The Franchise

"Dave... what you said yesterday... you were right, in a way. I do like you, but... I just can't trust you. And... I don't know that I ever can. So in a way, you're also wrong. Because if I can't trust you, then we aren't right for each other--even if neither you or I can point to any specific reason why we're not. Am I making any sense?"

"Yes," I said gently, "the fact that you don't feel you can trust me becomes an incompatibility, even if we seem compatible in other ways. But I also know that trust takes time. I don't expect you to drop everything and believe me after what I said yesterday any more than before. Actions speak louder than words, and up until I met you, my actions were not deserving of trust. But now I HAVE met you, and because of that I act differently. I'm not even asking that you believe me--it's just what I'm doing, because I believe that the truth comes out in the end. I don't know if it will matter--maybe someday you can trust me, maybe not. But I'm doing it either way."

"I don't want you to do this," she complained. "I feel like you're waiting for me--and so I feel like there's pressure on me to change my mind or something. I can't do that."

"No," I disagreed, "you don't have to change your mind. What I think we all should do is follow our heart, whichever way it goes. That's what I'm doing--I'm following my heart, and it's telling me I'd rather wait around and see if maybe someday things will change than waste my time with someone else when I really don't care about them. I hope someday your heart will lead you back to me, but if it doesn't, I will understand. I will be sad, but I will understand. And I wouldn't want it any other way, because unless your heart is in it, it won't really be you anyway, and I don't want that." She half-smiled sadly, squeezing my hand. We said little the rest of the evening. I took her home, and she hugged me tight when I dropped her off. I looked in her eyes, and for a moment I thought she might kiss me--but she quickly diverted the kiss to my cheek and bounded up the stairs.

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For the rest of her semester, Kelly and I and went on dates again--kind of. We would do things together and we both seemed to have a good time, but there was always this awkwardness when I would drop her off at her apartment. I realized that she was afraid to really kiss me deeply, like that would somehow leave her too vulnerable. I was happy just to be seeing her again--as much as anything because I knew that meant she wasn't seeing someone else. I figured she wouldn't be seeing me at all unless part of herwanted to trust me--but that didn't mean she ever would. In no time it was Christmas break. Kelly went back home; in her text messages she started saying things like I miss you--but nothing that gave me any reason to believe things would be any different when I did see her again come January.

The Jammers were home for Christmas, but had a brutal schedule for New Year's. We played in Phoenix on the 29th, then LA on New Year's Eve and, get this, we had to travel for a game in Golden State the next day. We were going to toast the new year from the inside of a frigging airplane. But we had an off day in LA on the 30th, and because of our schedule a bunch of the guys decided that that would be our New Years Eve. There was big talk about hitting a strip club on the Sunset Strip, but in the end the sports bar across the street from the hotel served the purpose well enough. A lot the guys were hitting it hard, doing shots and crap. I paced myself as I usually do. Even Leroy Jackson came out with us, although he drank only soda. As I was drinking and shooting darts, I got a text from Kelly. Leroy had warned me that the texts might be a test--if I didn't answer them right away and I wasn't playing, what was I doing? So I texted her and told her the guys were having our own New Years party early because we wouldn't get one tomorrow. Her reply saidOh, what are you doing?. Innocently I texted back that we were hanging out at this sports bar across from the hotel, and for some reason I included the name of the place.Hope you have fun she replied. I answered that I expected she'd have more fun tomorrow than I was tonight, and went back to my game.

Sometime later, I was coming back from the bathroom when a sharp-taloned hand caught my arm. I heard a sultry voice say "hey, aren't you Dave Rutherford?" This wouldn't have surprised me back home, but I didn't expect it in LA. Any irritation quickly melted, however, when I saw who was grabbing me. You know how there's all these songs that claim there's no girls like California girls? Well this girl was Exhibit A. She had long, straight hair, blonde and bleached almost white by the sun. Her skin was a deep, even tan, I could see a LOT of it. She had on this black halter mini-dress with a plunging neckline, basically no back, and these giant hoots that seemed ready to spill out any moment. Skinny girl, big rack—those things can't be real, I thought. Sure would be interesting to find out, though.

"Uh, yeah," I stammered. She tells me her names is Heather, and then proceeds to start rattling off all these things about me in college, and how she expects "big things" from me in the pros, with a funny sort of emphasis on the big things part. Then she asks me if anyone has shown me around the city yet.Danger, Will Robinson I thought. "No, but that's OK, we need to be at the stadium early tomorrow," I lied.

"Oh, it won't take a lot of time," she purred suggestively. "There's just some part of LA you simple MUST see. You can't find things like this anywhere else in the world." And as she said the last part, she subtly thrust her chest out towards me. It was clear that the Hollywood sign wasn't one of the things she wanted to show me.

"Maybe another time," I said politely, then went back with the guys. Yeah, she was hotter than lava, but honestly I never even considered taking her up on her apparent invitation—not while there was any chance that Kelly might come around, and she was pretty smokin' too.

Turns out Heather didn't give up so easy. I was dimly aware that she was frequently looking our direction, but I didn't expect that she would "accidentally" bump into me from behind—chest first. Suddenly I felt the soft, unmistakable press of breasts in my back, followed by a disengenous "Oh, I'm sorry." I turned around and it was Heather again. I'll admit I had a momentary vision of her kneeling in front of me while I manhandled those jugs, but it wasn't worth the problems on so many levels.

"Yeah, OK. Look, Heather, I'm sure you're a wonderful girl... in a lot of ways... but I'm really not looking for any hookups right now. Sorry to disappoint you. Maybe some of the other guys can help you out." I don't know what kind of reaction I expected, but the look on her face was not it—and I had no idea what it meant. But it seemed to do the trick--she melted into the crowd, and I didn't see her again. As for the party, a couple of the guys were getting a little out of hand. When I saw one of the guys sneak a girl into the bathroom, I'd seen enough. I finished my drink and went back to the hotel.

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I couldn't reach Kelly at all the next day, but with the game I didn't have a lot of chances to try either. What seemed strange is that she didn't respond to my texts either, but then again I didn't know what her New Years plans were. But she didn't respond to any of my communications the next day either. Maybe she was hung over? January 2 we flew back, but when I still couldn't reach her before or after the flight I started to worry. I left her a voicemail just making sure she was OK. All I got back was a quick text:I'm OK just busy sry. That didn't sound just busy to me.

As I left the arena to walk home after practice on January 3, I was pleasantly surprised to find Kelly waiting for me. She was bundled up for warmth, but the rosiness of her cheeks told she had probably been waiting for some time. "Kelly!" I exclaimed, "what a surprise! I wasn't expecting you back in town for another week or so!" I held out my arms to greet her with a hug.

She came over stiffly, her hands jammed in her pockets. She let me hug her and snuggled up to me, but kept her hands in her pockets. "Sorry," she said into her scarf, "my hands are freezing."

"What are you doing out here anyway? C'mon... let's grab a coffee and warm you up!"

She nodded agreement and we hustled across the street. When I brought the coffee over, Kelly was still bundled up but had taken off her gloves and was rubbing her hands together for warmth. Her fingers looked white. She clutched the coffee cup grateful for its warmth for some time before actually taking a sip of its contents. "I'm so glad to see you! Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year to you too."

"So what's up? Why were you waiting for me out there, freezing? You should have called me, I could have hurried up, or had security let you in or something."

"It's OK," she shrugged. "I just... really needed to talk to you. I couldn't do it on the phone."

"OK..." I said noncommittally, not liking the way this seemed to be going.

She stared down into her coffee, avoiding eye contact. I saw her gulp. "I... I have a confession to make."What? Has she been seeing someone else on the side? I wondered. "And I feel VERY guilty about it," she continued. "I... I hope you can forgive me..."

"What?" I asked. I had no idea what was going on.

She looked down at the table as she spoke. "You met a girl... in LA... named Heather," she said solemnly.

How the hell did she know that? I wondered. "Yes, I believe I did."

She kept staring downwards. "Heather wasn't really her name... her name is Siobhan... my cousin."

Being struck by lightning couldn't have been more shocking. Slowly, the implications of her admission started to click. "So you... sent her... to spy on me?"

Suddenly she locked eyes on me, pleading, a tear in her eye. "I'm sorry! I... you said you wouldn't go out with anyone else because you wanted me, and I wanted to believe you. But after all the stories from last year... and what happened to Megan... people don't just go turning over a new leaf like that! When you replied and happened to mention the name of the bar you were in... New Year's is a time where some people get kind of nuts. I had just been chatting with Siobhan on Facebook, and I figured she didn't live too far from there. But I just wanted her to stop in the bar and watch, get a feel for what you guys were up to. I didn't tell her to try to pick you up, honestly I didn't. Siobhan did that on her own. You saw her-- the joke in my family is the Siobhan could lead the Lord himself astray. I guess she figured it wouldn't be too hard to figure out if you were serious about swearing off other girls. When it was over she called me to tell me what happened... I was mortified. I've been afraid to even speak to you since." She dipped her head, looking away again, afraid perhaps to face me.

I was a swirl of emotions. Yeah, it hurt a little to be tested like that. But based on what I'd done in the past, could I really blame her for wanting some reassurance? And if she wanted to see if I was serious—maybe that meant that she was considering taking the risk. Leroy had warned me she was going to want to test me—only I doubt he imagined it would be so literal. I held out my hand, gently cupped her chin and turned her face toward me gently. "Hey," I said, "it's OK. I admit I'm a little stunned to find out the whole thing was a setup, but it really doesn't matter. I've told you before—things that happened with other girls don't apply when it comes to you. And based on my past behavior, I can understand why maybe my word alone wasn't good enough. But I'm telling you, one-night stands... I've been there and done that. I want something more now. I want you."

Kelly squinched up her eyes with tears, but held my hand in hers and lay her face upon it, giving my open palm a little kiss. "Can you ever forgive me?" she sobbed?

"I already have," I said gently.

She sniffed, wiping her face with her sleeve. Then she slowly regained her composure. She straightened up, fixed her hair for a second, wiped her eyes again. Then she said "I hear that you might be in the market for a girlfriend. Are you still accepting applications?"

I squeezed her hand. "You're hired." And then we both leaned across the table and kissed, a kiss of longing, a kiss of "oh how I have longed to kiss you again." The kind of kiss that makes everyone else in the joint acutely uncomfortable, and you couldn't care less. By the time we paused, my coffee was cold. Rather than drink it, we went to my condo and ordered pizza. It was the first time Kelly had been in my new place—she seemed to like it. After nibbling on the pizza, we lay on my couch, snuggling. I felt her legs brush up against mine, her torso press into mine, our arms around each other, our lips exploring each other. It just felt so good, so right... like something had been missing without her, and only now did it seem right again. Oh man, did I miss making out like this!

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And so, in January, we picked up where we had left off in August, and for the first time in months I was really happy. Kelly and I were doing much better than the Jammers, unfortunately. The turning point came on Valentine's Day. We came into the game five games under .500. We were playing a home game against a conference opponent, three games ahead of us in the standings--and we were 0-3 against them on the season. They were basically a one-dimensional team, carried by their All-Star shooting guard—and our two couldn't handle him. He drove on us at will and had 24 points in the first half; we trailed by 11 in the locker room. Starting the 3rd we tried to play a zone defense, but we still couldn't stop him. Coach called time out, and in desperation he put me in at the two. I was a better defensive player; all he was trying to do was slow the guy down. It was the first time that Leroy Jackson and I played on the court at the same time. A happy accident—coach had no idea that he had created what would become known as the two-headed monster.

Out on the court, I could tell right away that Leroy and I were on the same page. Going on offense, I took up a position outside the arc while Leroy brought the ball up the court. My defender cheated a little his way, looking for a possible double-team. Instinctively I took off the other way, cut behind the forward and was open for an easy alley-oop. Next time down the floor they tried to trap again, this time with the help coming off of one of the forwards. I cut in behind Leroy to give him an outlet pass. As the defenders shifted to me, I just knew that Leroy would take two steps over and spot up for the three. Two dribbles, quick pass back, bango. We just clicked on the floor—I could sense where he would be going, and he where I would be, and suddenly we were always one step ahead of the defense. The two of uswent off. In the last quarter-plus of the game, Leroy had 16 points and 4 assists, while I had 11 points and 9 assists. And the shoe suddenly fell to the other foot—all of a sudden their guard was having to focus on defense, and started missing shots. Down 14 when I re-entered the game, we won by 5—and the crowd went insane. I threw ball as high into the air as I could to eat up the last few seconds of clock. The bench erupted out onto the floor, hugging Leroy and I. Our team's new identity was born.

In the pandemonium, I looked up towards the owner's box. There were mom and dad, standing and clapping with the rest of the audience and looking very proud. Then I really smiled—standing next to mom in her cheerleader uniform was Kelly. They had played a game in the arena during the afternoon--she'd simply stayed and watched the game, I guess. That would never have been a problem with my parents--they really seemed to like her too.

I raced out of the locker room to meet Kelly afterwards, to the dismay of the guys who wanted to out to celebrate out big win. It was going to be Kelly and my first Valentine's Day. She was sitting on

my couch when I brought over the box, wrapped in red (no, it wasn't a ring). "What is this?" she asked with surprise.

"Happy Valentine's Day," I smiled.

"We've only been dating for six weeks. You didn't need to buy me anything."

"I wanted to," I said truthfully, "besides... doesn't the summer count for something?"

"Thank you," she said warmly, and kissed me.

"Open it up," I said impatiently when the chance arose some minutes later.

She slipped her long red fingernails under the paper and tore it away easily. It was obviously a box for a necklace. She glanced at me as if to say "what did you do?" and then pried the box open. I smiled as I saw her eyebrows shoot up and her eyes widen. "Oh my God, Dave..." she sputtered. The necklace consisted of twenty-some diamonds arranged to form the outline of a heart. "Those can't be real," she added in astonishment.

"Of course they're real. I'm a PRO now, baby," I teased.

"Dave, I can't accep..." I kissed her before she could finish. For a second she resisted, wanting to finish her sentence, but then she gave in to the moment and kissed me intensely. I let the kiss linger before addressing her thought.

"I want you to have it. Not only that, I want you to WEAR it. I got an extra-heavy chain, so you should even be able to wear it while you're cheerleading and not have to worry about it breaking."

Her eyes sparkled. She threw her arms around my neck and purred "wear it while I'm cheerleading,huh? Are you just trying to mark your territory?"

I hadn't thought about it that way, but I couldn't disagree. "I prefer to think of it like this: if you're going to put up with dating a ballplayer, you should have something to show for it."

She smiled and blinked her eyes dreamily. "It's beautiful," she sighed and kissed me. I was aware that my hands, falling naturally around her waist, were touching the warm soft skin between her uniform top and skirt, and it felt wonderful. She just seemed to fit in my arms like a hand in a glove. After kissing a long time, we gazed at each other with eyes of wonderment, that special mysteriousness that only lovers understand, that feeling like this special person was put here on this earth just for me, and me for them.

"Let me put it on you," I volunteered finally. I'd almost forgotten she was still holding the box until I felt it in her hand, touching the back of my neck. So with some excitement she dropped her arms, handed me the box, turned her back toward me and gathered up her hair in her hand, lifting it away from her neck. As I removed the necklace from its box, I couldn't stop marveling at that beautiful crown of silky red. I got the chain out, strung it gently around her neck, and made myself pay close attention to closing the clasp properly so that it would stay securely fastened. As I let the chain fall, I noticed a particularly large freckle on the back of her neck, right where the clasp of the necklace fell. Impulsively I bent forward and lightly kissed the freckle.

Kelly giggled. "That tickles." She dropped her hair, letting it fall naturally about her shoulders. She looked down at the necklace, picked up the heart with her fingers and slipped it back and forth on the chain as if to verify its existence. I reached around from behind and put my arms around her again. Wow... because her back was to me, my hands now rested right over the flat of her belly. I knew it looked amazing, having stared at it jumping up and down on the sidelines too many times to count, but now that I felt it, it was more muscular than I expected. And then when she reciprocated by reaching over her head to wrap her hands around my neck again, it stretched that flat belly, making the muscles even more pronounced. All at once I realized that I'd been mesmerized by her belly, that for several minutes I'd been running my fingers along her tummy, exploring how it felt. I locked my hands together so that I wouldn't keep groping her.