Page 15 of Play of Love
Chapter 5
Amy
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“Hi, my name’s Riley,” the boy said with a bright smile that made his brown eyes sparkle. He looked like a sweet kid with his adorable full cheeks and long lashes.
“Hey Riley. I’m Amy.” I smiled down at him. The wind picked up my hair and blew it up behind me. I tucked the strands that had come forward behind my ear.
“Did you just come from inside Joshua Mancini’s house?” Excitement beamed from his eyes.
“Yeah. I did.” I was trying to think of the right words to say.
How was I supposed to tell this sweet boy to move away from the property and don’t come back?
What kind of person would talk to a kid like that?
People spoke to me like that a lot when I was a child, including my father. Especially him, actually. People like him shouldn’t be allowed to have children. Just like Josh.
“Do you think he’d sign my ball? I come here every chance I get hoping to catch him. I’m his biggest fan.”
This was so heartbreaking.
I pulled in a breath. “I don’t think he’ll be able to sign the ball for you, Riley.” His face fell and the disappointment in his eyes made me feel guilty. “Not today. But perhaps some other time.” I couldn’t help myself. I felt bad to disappoint him. I’d been through it so many times that I couldn’t bring myself to do it to another person—a child for that matter.
He smiled. “Do you work for him?”
Did I?Right now I didn’t. And I wouldn’t be stepping foot back in that house unless I had to. My hopes were hanging on my mother’s consultant. I knew what was discussed before and the urgency in the matter, but here was hoping. I was just hoping he’d say I had some time. That would give room for flexibility.
“Kind of,” I decided to tell him. “What about you, did school just finish?”
“Yes, I come here sometimes after school, then make my way to Cyranose to meet my mom.”
“Cyranose?” Sounded interesting.
“It’s a cool restaurant, and there’s a basketball court and a mini football pitch where I play with my friends.”
“Do you want some company for the walk over?” The area was nice. It was Malibu Beach, of course it would be beautiful, and while I was here it would be cool to explore. The part of the beach I’d found this morning was lush and peaceful. I could imagine relaxing there with a dog and that hot cocoa with cinnamon I’d dreamed up. This morning seemed like it was years ago.
“Sure. I can introduce you to my mom and her friend. They love the Mancini Machine.”
The Mancini Machine. I remembered seeing that in my research. It was what Josh’s fans called him. I wondered if anyone had any remote clue as to what Josh was like. Zelda said they kept his life out of the media, but someone somewhere must have seen something. Maybe if they had, Zelda’s company had paid them off before the story got published. Perhaps that was how it all worked out.
“That’s nice.” It was best to be neutral.
“I want to be him when I grow up. I’m going to do everything he’s done too. That’s my goal.”
I hoped not. His words pulled on my heart, and it almost felt like telling a child that Santa Claus wasn’t real, so I listened and kept my mouth shut.
Riley’s eyes sparkled. “He’s the best player ever. Did you see his last game?”
“No. I didn’t. Do you want to tell me about it?” That was my attempt to be neutral and not crush his little vision. I didn’t doubt that Josh was a great player. It was his personality that was the problem.
Riley couldn’t have looked happier, and as we walked along the beach all I heard was how wonderful Josh was. Riley was able to tell me everything about Josh’s games and all the special moves he used to help his team win. I was impressed at the details Riley gave and agreed that he had to be Josh’s biggest fan. The kid had not only watched him play, but it was like he knew his thought process too. It was quite remarkable to listen to.
“There’s my mom.” Riley waved at a Latina looking lady who had long black hair that flowed out against the wind. She sat at a table outside the restaurant with another lady who looked similar. Both were stunning with their shiny hair and golden skin. I wondered if they were models. Everyone I’d come in contact with since being here looked like that.
I felt slightly out of place because my clothes were dirty and my hair was a mess. I was also certain I smelled as bad as the house, too, and possibly essence of rat. I’d washed my foot as best as I could but I couldn’t get over that an actual rat had touched my skin. I shuddered at the memory.
