“Yeah.”
“We’ve got this, Ian.” His brother was a good cop, which meant he paid attention to his instincts, had a healthy dose of paranoia, and didn’t let down his guard. This was Ian’s op. All Jamie had to do was follow orders, and try not to think about should-have, could-have, would-have. Or Charlie in that deep pink dress, her hair loose around her shoulders, in those killer heels.
Ian’s phone buzzed. He looked down at the screen, then said, “I’ve got to take this. I’ll meet you at the car. We’ve got more boxes to go through.”
“Catch you later,” Jamie said.
Charlie blew her whistle and the kids all dropped down to sit on their basketballs. “Sharks and minnows!” she called out. “Who wants to be my sharks?”
Eight hands shot into the air. Charlie picked out a smaller boy and a tall, talented girl while her assistants herded the other kids into a line against the far wall. The goal of the game was for the minnows, lined up against the wall, to dribble to the other wall while the sharks, also dribbling, tried to tag them. Kids were ducking and weaving away from each other, with varying levels of ball control, some bouncing the balls off their feet while others had an instinctive awareness of the ball’s relationship to their bodies, but all with big grins on their faces.
“Dribble low, bend your knees, get your backsides out,” Charlie called out, her tone firm but encouraging. “You’re reaching. Don’t reach!”
They played a short game, the coaches guiding kids into a basic zone defense to protect the four corners of their “house” while the opposing team tried to get open. Only a couple of kids scored, but they seemed to be getting the idea. When the practice ended, Charlie called them all in and held out her hand for all the kids and assistant coaches to pile on. “On three, basketball. One, two, three!”
“Basketball!” the kids chorused.
“Have fun out there!” Charlie said, then caught Jamie’s eye. He smiled at her, waiting until the parents collected their offspring.
“You want us to raise the hoops, Coach?” Grace called to Charlie.
“Yes, please,” Charlie said. “They’ve got open gym all afternoon.”
Flashing covert glances at them, the girls got the poles used to raise and lower the hoops.
“Hey,” Jamie said.
“Hi,” Charlie responded. “What are you doing here?”
He gave her a look, just a look, enough to make her blush. “Okay,” she said. “Dumb question.”
“Lunch?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said lightly, and held out her hand. He automatically looked down at her fingers, strong and tough from a lifetime on the court. Three fingers had hangnails. “I’m getting a mani-pedi, remember?”
He smiled. “It’s not a root canal.”
“Have you ever gotten one? They push back your cuticles and snip them with tiny sharp scissors.”
“Oooh,” he said, mock-serious. “Sounds painful.”
“I just don’t like people messing with me. My hair, my makeup, my fingers and toes. Then I’m getting a trim. Grace said I’ve got split ends,” she said, giving the end of her ponytail a sidelong glare.
He thought about how she used her body as a shield and battering ram to protect the ball, how she’d throw it to the floor, into the wall or other players. He thought about all the ways he’d touched her, how maybe the way she went boneless under his hands from the massage was the most intimate thing she’d done. He let desire simmer in his eyes, watched her stop breathing for a long moment.
“Present company excluded,” she added. “And don’t look at me like that in front of my players.”
“Everyone’s going to be looking at you tonight,” he said.
She shrugged dismissively. “You walk into a room in fuchsia, people are going to look.”
“At you, Charlie. NCAA championship winner. European championship winner. You going to wear your rings?”
“I am,” she said, looking right into his eyes. “So the girls know what they can do and be if they work hard and stay smart. Champions. I have to go,” she said, and zipped up her hoodie.
“See you later,” he called to her retreating back, making it a promise.
*
Ian drove them to yet another hole in the wall BBQ joint, then home, where they ate ribs and fries and fritters while sorting through more childhood toys and mementos. Ian left to go back to his apartment to shave and shower. Jamie did the same, then inspected his uniform for any hint of a stain or a dulled crease, then laid it all out, the undershirt, the rows of medals and commendations, and put on each piece. He paused to examine his reflection in the mirror with a critical eye.