When we were done eating, after giving me the most tentative glare, he pulled out his gold antique pocket watch from his jacket to check the time. He then asked if I was tired. I told him no and he asked if I wanted to go to see a basketball game. I said yes without reservation and we road over to the Staples Center. When we arrived, we parked damn near inside the place. I could tell he was a frequent visitor.
We entered through a private entrance and virtually walked right into the arena. He led me to the third row. The game was at the top of the third quarter. I was so amazed by the amount of people in one place. I’d never been to a professional basketball game. I could tell Azmir loved the game; he was so into it. I was familiar with the sport and kept my eyes glued to the ball. I liked watching how the players skillfully handled it; I wanted to see their techniques. But what was more intriguing was the lofty caliber of celebrities that were all around us. I was familiar with quite a few and mused at how they all appeared slimmer in person. Michelle would have lost her mind in there. She’s going to be so pissed that I didn’t take any pictures. Oh, well. There was no way in hell I was going to embarrass myself on this date by gushing over people who deserved the same privacy that I did. By the end of the quarter Azmir asked, “Do you follow the game?”
“Yeah. I know a little something about basketball. Do you come often?”
“Yes,” Distracted, he answered as he looked on the floor. He noticed someone trying to get his attention. It was Kobe Bryant! He pointed to the floor seats and then raised both his hands gesturing, I deduced he was asking why wasn’t Azmir down there. Azmir smiled, pointed toward me, and shrugged his shoulders. Kobe gestured for him to come down to talk. Azmir asked if I would mind. I said, “Oh, not at all. Go.”
He excused himself and went down. They greeted each other with a masculine hug and chatted. The way that they laughed and joked around I could tell they were well acquainted. Who is this man, Azmir Jacobs?! I asked myself. I grew even more intimidated. I tried to calm my anxieties by reminding myself there’s no man too good for me. Boy, was he making it hard to believe.
Azmir climbed back up the steps, I watched his long strides trying not to ogle too closely. “You got me looking like a sucker.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Everybody knows where I sit when my Lakers are playing. Trying to be considerate and not sit you on floor is now getting me clowned.”
“Why didn’t we just sit in your designated seats? I’m a big girl.”
“Wellllll…” he sighed “I didn’t know if you’d really like the game so much that you wanted to be on the floor. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Well, next time you’ll know not to underestimate me.” I nudged him.
“Oh, so there will be a next time?” he asked with a Kool-Aid smile. His gorgeous teeth couldn’t be ignored. I felt my sex clench instinctively.
“Hmmmm…maybe if you ask and secondly if you stop being so chauvinistic.”
“Oh, it’s like that? Okay,” he chuckled.
My phone rang and I took the call. I could see him in my peripheral gaping at me while I spoke. When I hung up I asked, “How’s the view?”
“What view?” he asked confused with furrowed brows.
“The one of me. You were staring.”
He chuckled, embarrassed by my calling him out, warming my heart. “Actually, I was zoomed into the phone. I’m surprised a woman who runs a physical therapist office doesn’t have a more sophisticated and technologically advance device like an iPhone, Blackberry...a smart phone of any kind.”
I scoffed. “I’m only a PT not a surgeon. I get what I can afford.”
“You just seem like a classier type of woman, that’s all.” He took my cell from my hand and started examining it like it was worthless trash.
We continued to watch the game until the end and left. The tasteful conversation continued all the way to the office where my car was waiting. We pulled next to it, which looked like a hooptie compared to his grand Bentley. Well, it actually was a hooptie. His driver, Ray, stepped out of the car, I later realized to give us privacy.