And Playing the Role of Herself... (20 page)

"Yeah," I agreed with an absent smile, thinking more of Robyn's words about missing me than about Josh being sweet.
Robyn. Damn, I loved that woman.
"Robyn's a lucky woman," Liz continued, turning her attention from Josh when he finally moved out of sight.
My smile grew wider. "Uh-huh."
She frowned, picking up her spoon to stir her coffee absently. "Caid…you and Robyn are friends, right?"
She sounded so serious, and my smile faded. "Yes," I said cautiously. "We're friends."
She tapped the spoon against the side of her cup, and then started stirring again. Liz was fidgeting, and Liz rarely fidgeted.
I watched her stir for a few more moments, and then rapped my fingers against the table. "Looks like you've got something on your mind, Liz. Spit it out."
She looked up and met my gaze for the first time since she'd returned to the table. "You and Josh seem kind of…close. How does Robyn feel about that?"
It finally dawned on me what she was probably thinking, and what she was getting at. "Oh." I stifled the urge to laugh. Laughing would be bad. "Um…no, Liz. I think I know what you're thinking, and it's not Josh."
She gave me a skeptical look.
"Honestly, Liz. Josh is just a friend, I swear."
We were quiet while the waiter set down the dessert we were splitting, and then Liz sighed and pushed her well-stirred coffee away. "Promise?"
"Promise."
I almost told her then. I wanted so badly to grip her hand and tell her how I'd fallen in love with this amazing woman who thrilled me, pleased me, made me feel alive, and made me happier than I'd ever been. Christ, I wanted to tell
someone
.
Instead I just smiled.
"I…" She paused, and picked up a fork to try the lime thing we'd ordered. She looked at it in surprise, and took another bite. "Damn. This whatchamacallit thing is great."
I picked up my fork and tried some, and had to agree with her. It was damn good.
We spent a few minutes decimating the dessert, and after Liz had taken a final swipe of the plate with her finger and licked it clean, managing somehow to make the action look polite, she looked at me again. "Sorry, it just seemed like an impossible situation, and I didn't want to see you hurt."
She really could be very sweet.
"Thanks, Liz. But no need to worry about Josh."
Let's hope you're as supportive when you find out what's really going on
.

"Yes, yes…good. Cross to the corner now…" Eladio Sabatis called to Josh in heavily accented English as he hit ball after ball in a steady rhythm over the net.
Josh returned each ball with a powerful, spinning backhand, each shot varying only inches in placement along the baseline. His short, blond hair was dark with sweat and moisture glistened on his skin; I watched his fluid movements in appreciation from my spot on the courtside bleachers, my elbows propped against the bleacher bench behind me and my legs stretched out on the bench below. Seeing the game from this distance was completely different than watching on television; everything seemed faster and more intense, increasing my already healthy admiration for Josh's talent.
"Good. Now. Show your beautiful friend how fast you can run." Eladio grinned at me, his teeth very white against dark skin, and sent a ball deep into the opposite corner of the court, forcing a swearing Josh to scramble after it.
"Damnit, Eladio…" Josh chased the ball down in a few long strides and sent a sizzling forehand down the line, turning immediately to sprint the other way when the dark-haired coach hit the next ball into the other corner. That ball was crushed by a backhand down the line, and Josh was off and running again to chase Eladio's next offering.
"Cross, Josh, not line," Eladio chided, sending another ball into a corner. "We work the cross today."
Josh grunted and continued to chase down balls for another five minutes, hitting deep cross-court returns on each ball Eladio sent him. After a final forehand return that had enough velocity on it to raise even Eladio's eyebrows, the coach called an end to practice.
"Good, Josh. You move your feet and your form is very good today. " He glanced over at me and flashed another brilliant smile. "I think you are showing off for your lady friend, yes?" He laughed at Josh's scowl and waved him forward. The two men talked quietly at the net for several minutes then Eladio slapped Josh on the arm and turned away to begin collecting balls in a green wire ball basket.
Josh put his racquets in a large bag and grabbed a bottle of water and a towel before walking over and sitting down on the bleacher next to my outstretched legs.
"Very impressive." I smiled down at him, shading my eyes against the late afternoon sun. "A lot different than watching on TV."
"Thanks." He wiped his face with the towel and took several deep gulps of water. "I was surprised when you said you wanted to come by early and watch - not many people like to watch practice."
I raised an eyebrow and nodded at the small crowd of about fifteen people slowly vacating the bleachers on the other side of the court behind a barrier, most of them watching us with open curiosity. "Looks to me like you've got a nice little cheering section."
He drained his water bottle and wiped his face with the back of his arm, glancing across the court. "Yeah, we usually have some watchers for my afternoon court time. Mornings are always closed, but we have afternoon time at least once a week and people come and watch, and I sign some autographs…and here they come now." He smiled wryly.
I looked up to see several people being escorted past the barriers and across the court by a young, painfully cheerful looking woman dressed in club whites. Josh swiped his hair one last time with the towel, pushed himself off the bench and stepped away from the bleachers to meet the oncoming group with a wide smile.
The group gathered around him, some pushing forward eagerly while others hung back shyly, but Josh greeted them all with a friendly smile, chatted briefly, signed whatever item they gave him and posed for pictures. A middle aged couple - two of the first to push forward and get Josh's attention - turned to me when he had signed a few tennis balls and a hat for them and looked at me speculatively.
"Are you someone?" the woman asked after taking a few hesitant steps in my direction, eyeing my reclining form doubtfully.
I'd stopped for a run along Manhattan Beach on my way to Josh's club in Torrance and I was dirty, sweaty, and not a little rough looking in loose t-shirt, running shorts and shoes, a baseball cap, and wrap-around sunglasses. I smiled slightly and crossed one leg over the other. "No, no one important."
The husband frowned, looking at me intently, but the woman just nodded, her original opinion confirmed. I watched in amusement as she latched onto his arm and dragged him back across the court, chattering about who they might see in the dinning room. A few more of the group around Josh who had been eyeing me lost interest after watching the couple talk to me and leave without an autograph; no one else approached me until the group was gone and Josh himself came over.
"No wonder the public loves you so much." I sat up and handed him my half-full water bottle. "You have the patience of a saint."
He took the bottle with a nod of thanks and drained it quickly, picking up his towel and wiping the back of his neck. "I honestly love the attention. Robyn will tell you, I'm a complete and total attention whore."
Just the mention of her name caused a flutter in my stomach and a slight hitch in my breathing. I scowled at my body's reaction and my inability to control it.
"Caid? You okay?" Josh's voice was questioning, and pulled my attention back to him.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I just…listen, Josh. About Robyn…" I trailed off as he held out a hand to help me off the bleachers.
"How about we both get cleaned up and I take you to that dinner I promised? Chelsea can show you where you can shower and change, and I'll meet you out in the front lobby when you're ready." He gestured behind him and I realized that the staff member who had led the group of autograph seekers across the court was waiting respectfully several yards away.
I gripped his hand automatically and let him pull me up. When I was standing, he leaned in and said softly, "We can talk there, okay?" I nodded and he turned, not dropping my hand. "Chelsea, can you show Miss Harris to the locker rooms and make sure the bag she dropped at the front desk gets to her?"
"Of course, Mr. Riley." She stepped forward, glancing quickly at our linked hands before favoring me with a professional smile. "If you'll just follow me, Miss Harris?"
I resisted the urge to drop Josh's hand like a hot potato, annoyed at the vague feeling of guilt her furtive look produced. "Thank you, Chelsea. See you in a bit, Josh." I squeezed his hand and let it drop slowly before following the young woman across the court and into the main club building. We stopped at the main desk and picked up my bag and a locker key, then Chelsea directed me to the locker rooms and gave me a polite, "Have a nice day" before hurrying off to another duty.
I showered and changed quickly, hoping that Josh's idea of 'casual' jived with mine and the well-worn sandals, demins and black silk halter neck would be appropriate wherever we were going for dinner. After drying my hair for a few minutes and gathering up my things, I returned the key to the front desk.
"Thank you, Miss Harris." The desk attendant was a fit, twenty-something blonde with a deep tan and a near blinding smile. "Mr. Riley is waiting just outside for you. Through the doors to your right."
"Thank you…" I glanced quickly at her nametag, "Bridget."
Her smile, if possible, got brighter. I returned her smile with a smaller one of my own, and turned towards the doors she had indicated.
"Miss Harris?"
The tentative voice stopped me and I turned back to Bridget and found her looking around cautiously. "Yes?"
She licked her lips nervously, not meeting my eyes. "Um…I really like your show…do you…do-you-think-I-could-get-an-autograph?" she finished with a rush, looking up at me with a hopeful expression.
"Sure." I smiled at her encouragingly, and her nervousness disappeared.
"Oh, thank you!" She produced a pen and piece of paper from behind the desk, handing them to me. "I
knew
you'd be nice in person. I mean, I could just
tell
. Those stories in the paper about how you're mean - I just
knew
they weren't true. I watch
9th Precinct
every week, and…"
I blinked. Mean? The papers said I was mean? Belligerent, possibly. Surly, maybe. I'd never been particularly friendly with the press, but I always tried to be at least polite…and they thought I was mean? It bothered me how much that thought…bothered me.
Bridget was still chattering on when I focused my attention back onto her. "…I had no idea you were dating Mr. Riley. Did he and Miss Ward break up? She's come in several times, you know. She's very…intimidating in person. Not like you. You're not intimidating at all. I feel like we could be great friends…"
I started to correct her about me and Josh when I recalled something Liz had told me once.
Nothing gets people's curiosity up quicker than a good denial, and curiosity draws the press like ants to a picnic
. I closed my mouth and hastily scrawled my signature across the paper before shoving it back at her, my smile turning slightly brittle. "There you go. You have a nice evening, okay Bridget?"
Not waiting for a response, I strode to the side doors and pushed my way outside, looking around for Josh and spotting him climbing out of a white, low-slung Jaguar coupe parked at the curb. I waved in acknowledgement and walked over as he rounded the car and held the door open for me.
"Thanks." I ducked into the car, tossed my bag in the tiny back seat, and settled into the plush leather seat as Josh walked around to the driver's side and slid in beside me. He pulled away from the curb and maneuvered the car out onto the main road at a speed that had me glad I'd put on my seatbelt.
A few more quick turns and we were on the entrance ramp to 405, and I gripped my seat as casually as I could as we merged onto the freeway. "So, where are we heading?"
Josh sped up even more, sending the car zipping in and out of traffic. He crossed three lanes of traffic with a casual flick of the wrist and glanced over at me. "Santa Monica."
I waited, watching him, using the opportunity to keep my eyes off the scenery flying by at an alarming rate. When nothing further was forthcoming, I quirked an eyebrow at him. "That's a little vague - want to narrow it down a little?"
"It's a surprise." He grinned like a little boy, and I was reminded of another reason he was so popular with the press.
I shook my head, unable to keep from smiling back. "As long as I'm not underdressed, that works for me. You did say casual, right?"
He took perused my outfit and nodded in approval. "You'll do."
"Gee, thanks." I tossed him a crooked grin. He was wearing khakis and an un-tucked light blue and white striped bowling shirt, so I guessed casual was indeed ok. "You know, the desk attendant at the club thinks we're dating," I told him idly as I turned my attention back to the road, bracing my feet against the floor and settling as far as I could into the seat.
"Does she?" He looked over at me with raised eyebrows and laughed. "Damn, I'm good. I'm dating two beautiful women." He passed a slow-moving truck, muttering to himself as he glanced behind him and changed lanes. "…and don't have a chance with either of them."
There was no bitterness in the words, only an underlying sadness. I said nothing for a moment and then decided to go ahead and ask what I'd wanted to ask since I found out that he and Robyn weren't a couple. "Why do you do it then?"
He changed lanes again and sped around a bus. "Why do I do what?"
"This…thing that you and Robyn do. I can understand why she does it, to keep the press off her back about her sexuality, but you…" I waved a hand, gesturing at his body. "Jesus, Josh, you're gorgeous, famous, wealthy, charming…you must have women falling over themselves to be with you. Beautiful women who would do just as much for your image as being seen with Robyn does. So…"
"So you want to know what's in it for me," he stated, not taking his eyes off the road.
I winced slightly at how callous that sounded. "Well…yeah. You could have any woman you want. Or two. Or six…" I quirked a grin to take the sting out of my next words. "I think you're a nice guy, Josh - really, I do - but I have a hard time believing a guy would give up the possibility of all those fawning women because their lesbian best friend needed a date. Once or twice, maybe, but for two years?"
He actually smiled at that. "No," he said with a soft laugh, "I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. Believe it or not, the reason is actually because of those fawning women." He glanced in his rear view mirror, and then at me quickly before focusing his attention back on the road. "I'm twenty-nine years old, Caid. In tennis, I'm practically an old man. There's a very small window of opportunity when you've put enough years into the game to have the benefit of experience, and you're still young enough for your body to do what you want it to." He gestured with one hand to himself. "I'm in that window now. I don't make it into the top five in the next year or two, it's not going to happen. Doing the 'thing me and Robyn do', as you call it, allows me to keep my focus. I do what is expected of me to keep the sponsors and advertisers happy, but I don't have to worry about getting involved with someone, and getting distracted, which I know from past experience messes with my head. We keep each other out of trouble, with the benefit of spending time with someone we enjoy being with."
I pondered that for a moment, and then hesitantly asked, "Do you still love her?"
He glanced at me in confusion. "Of course I love her. She's my best friend…" His eyes widened in sudden understanding. He turned his attention back to the road. "Ohhh…you mean, am I
in
love with her? That whole straight-boy-pining-away-after-his-lesbian-best-friend thing?"
Well, when you put it that way, it did sound kind of cliché…
At my slow nod, he smiled wryly. "No, I'm not in love with her. I used to be, a long, long time ago. And I like to think she was in love with me, too." He slowed a little and looked over at me. "Lord knows it would certainly be simpler if we were both still in love with each other, but we're not." He glanced in his rear view mirror, and then at me. "I'm not competition, Caid. As long as you make Robyn happy, I'm on your side."
I shook my head, starting to protest, "That's not what I meant…" I stopped myself and sighed. "Oh hell, maybe it was. You two are just so close - you know each other so completely, and all I have are these little…pieces of her. It's frustrating."
We were quiet for a minute before he reached over and patted my knee. "If it makes a difference, Caid, she doesn't give those pieces up easily and she's given more to you than anyone else has gotten in a long time."