Dream Runner (25 page)

Seeking a familiar face, Bianca looked down and there he was, like the answer to a prayer. The
Times
photo was in color, and it was a good one. Tight, toned, brown eyes gleaming with intelligence and health, he looked perfect, and it was almost more than she could take. Eyes flying over the story, her keen toed heel-less pump spanked the tile at her feet. Giving the paper a snap to straighten it, she reread the article.

“Unbelievable. All this money for a man who is out of the game.” Bianca folded the paper so that her finger could trace the line of zeros following the one-two-five. “Retired, with all this money, and they still call him ‘the nicest man in football’.”

She read further, finding the other line she wanted. “He’s in New York to finalize contracts on his book and an upcoming movie. Impressive. All that money is just the down payment.” She reread the paragraph and thought of those dollars again. One hundred twenty-five thousand dollars would pay for a lot of shoes.

“No mention of an accompanying woman,” she smiled. “AJ Yarborough is all alone in the big city.”

Closing the paper, Bianca tucked it away for future reference. She lifted her cup and sipped. “All alone—but not for long.”

* * *

“So how did it go?”

“It was amazing, AJ. I never knew I had so much to say, and it felt good to say it. Man, I had a chance to clear the air on some highly misunderstood conceptions of female athletes. Oh, AJ, not only that, but I talked about my accident. I had a chance to talk about what it’s like to be an amputee.”

“Marlea…”

“Wait, AJ, let me tell you. I know that it could have been worse, that I could have lost my whole foot or a leg, but I talked about everything.”

“Everything?”

“AJ…okay, I didn’t talk about that, but I talked about everything else. Oh, and I didn’t talk about how much I care for you. I’m saving that for when you get back to Atlanta. We can have a private conversation, just the two of us.”

He heard a smile in her voice and felt his chest tighten. “That’s great, Marlea. How are you going to celebrate?”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” she said slowly. “He’s going to fax an advanced copy of the story, and I could share it here at the house with Rissa and Mrs. Baldwin.”

“No, baby. You need to really celebrate.”

“I could wait for you,” Marlea offered.

“That’s generous, but until I get back, you should be with friends.”

“Not a bad idea.” Marlea gave his suggestion a little thought. She had never really had girlfriends the way other women did. So who did that leave? She let her mind ramble. “Libby’s back in town for a few days, and I can get Rissa and Jeanette and Connie—we could do something fun. Maybe go out for dinner and drinks…And then I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Yes, ma’am. Friday it is; oh, and I’m going to bring you something special.”

“Oh, a gift. I like that, but I love you, AJ.” Her gasp was swift over the phone line as she realized what she had said. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that, but I do, AJ—love you.”

He cupped the phone in both hands. “Me, you, too.”

“I’m glad,” she whispered. “Bye.” The single word was soft but final, almost as though she had run out of things to say. AJ set the phone aside reluctantly.

Sitting on the sofa and watching AJ as he talked to Marlea, Bianca plucked at the pearl buttons on her shirt. Wondering if it would have made a difference if she had entered the room naked, she waited for AJ to end his call.

“You didn’t tell her about me. Should I guess why?”

His back stiffened. “No need to guess. There’s nothing to tell.”

“Really. I guess I’ll have to see what I can do to change that.” The pearl buttons moved easily as the blouse fell away. She let her skirt slide over sleek skin and smiled. She had always liked the look of a man perched on the edge of Purgatory.

Chapter 25

Sounds of the televised game bounced off the walls, and the rocking music floating on the air was almost as loud as the conversation from the next booth. The waitress in the green Jocks ‘N Jill’s tee shirt leaned close, swiping at the table with a cloth before setting the tray of drinks down.

“So what are you ladies celebrating?” she asked, rubbing hard at a slick-looking spot.

Jeanette and Libby licked sauce from their fingers, trying to speak. Connie forked cole slaw into her mouth, content to let them try.

“Her,” Rissa volunteered, pointing at Marlea and pulling copied sheets from under Connie’s elbow. “She was just interviewed for this marvelous article. Take a look.” Then she went back to her fries.

“Cool. What did she do?”

“I ran a race,” Marlea used her fork to push food around on her plate, “and that’s only a draft of the article.”

Rissa put the tender rib aside and came up for air. “But read the article—the draft of the article.”

“Sure.” The waitress, whose nametag read ‘Cassie’, set the tray down and wiped her damp hands against her short apron. Taking the stapled sheets from Rissa’s hand, she ignored Connie who passed out the drinks from her tray. “Aw, man,” Cassie breathed, surveying the pages. “They had to cut off your toes? Damn!” She drew the final word out in amazement when Marlea nodded.

Cassie’s smoky gray eyes met Marlea’s and fell back to the pages. “Dang, you almost made it to the Olympics. And now?” She turned the page, read the last few words, and looked up with a smile. “He says you’re still running? That you did a race a week ago?”

“Something like that,” Marlea nodded.

“The article says you use a special shoe. Are you going to keep running?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if I’ll ever do the 400 again. Besides, I’m over thirty, that’s kind of long in the tooth for a runner.”

“Will you listen to grandma, over there?” Libby plucked a lime wedge from the white china saucer in the center of the table and pinched it into the mouth of her Corona, watching the pale juice run into the golden beer before taking a long drink from the long-necked bottle.

Cassie shyly turned the pages back to the beginning. “It says you’re a teacher, too. Bet your kids are proud of you.”

“Are they ever. You should have seen the cards and letters, the videos and stuff that she received in the hospital. Those kids love her.” Jeanette reached for a handful of napkins and shared them with Rissa and Connie. “Now ask her when she’s going back.”

Marlea wished she had the nerve to stuff Jeanette’s mouth with the damned napkins, but with her luck, the woman would eat them. “I’ll be back in the classroom at the beginning of the year. I’ve already talked to the administrators at Runyon.”

“I didn’t know, you didn’t tell us.” Jeanette plucked paper tissue from her sticky fingers, frowning at a particularly stubborn clump when it fell into the lap of her denim skirt. When Cassie handed her a premoistened towelette, she smiled her thanks.

“I’ll bet AJ knows,” Connie mumbled.

“AJ is your man, huh?” Cassie read the look on Marlea’s face and knew that she was right. “Ohh, that’s so sweet, so noble. He stood by you through all of this. You mind if I take this with me? I want to share it with some friends.”

“No, feel free. That’s a draft,” Marlea said. “We have other copies, take it if you want it.”

“Thanks.” Cassie hurried away with her tray and her copies. Ten minutes later, she was back with a tray of fresh drinks. “Hope y’all are thirsty. You have an admirer over there and he sent these over to you.”

“Who?”

Unloading the drinks, Cassie tossed her head toward the bar. “Him. Over there.”

“Jeanette, please,” Rissa’s lips rippled with suppressed laughter. “Sitting over here trying to act like you don’t take drinks from strange men. However, as cute as I am,” she straightened her cotton sweater, “ I’m not surprised.”

“Not you, hon.” Cassie tapped Marlea’s denim jacket. “Her.”

“Me?” Marlea almost slid out of her seat when Jeanette snickered. “You have got to be mistaken.” She chanced a glance around Cassie, catching the eye of a long-legged, chocolate-skinned man. “Oh, no. He did not wink at me.”

“He probably did,” Cassie grinned, taking her tray. “I left your article on the counter while I was filling orders and he read it, then he told me to bring you whatever you all were drinking and to pick up your dinner tab, too.”

“I like him already,” Libby offered brightly, waggling the Corona.

“You’re married, remember? You can’t go around liking strange men just because they buy you drinks.”

“I can if I want to; you’re not the boss of me.” Pretending to sulk, Libby sucked at her beer.

“Then you can talk to him when he gets here,” Marlea whispered, sprouting a sudden and passionate interest in her quesadilla. “He’s on his way over here now.” Using her fork and her fingers, Marlea took a bite. She was still chewing when the man reached the table.

“Ladies.” He planted a hand on his chest and parted his lips in a full smile—as if he had practiced. “I’m Vincent Welles, and I would truly enjoy the chance to sit and get to know you all better.” He said
all
, but his eyes locked on Marlea.

Vincent Welles stood there looking as though he was used to women drooling over him—and in spite of herself, Marlea—and every other woman in the restaurant—could see why. He was tall and solid, packed with muscle, and had a butt you could bounce quarters off, if you had a mind to. Broad-shouldered, with a narrow waist, he flexed and stood poised for the inevitable invitation—it came from Connie.

Accepting, he slid into the booth, seating himself next to Marlea. Looking down at her as if she had just stepped off the menu, he leaned his elbows on the table and folded his hands.

He nodded toward the bar. “I was sitting over there, all by my lonesome, and I couldn’t help noticing this table full of good-looking women. Then I saw the article Cassie left laying on the bar.” He smiled and Marlea knew what Little Red Riding Hood must have felt like when she met the Big Bad Wolf. “So you’re the one who had the surgery.”

“Yes, that was me.” Suddenly cold and greasy, the quesadilla didn’t taste quite so good anymore. Marlea set her fork aside and tossed her napkin onto the tabletop.

“So what was it like? They took about half your foot, right?” Eyes eager, he leaned forward.

Rissa, Libby, and Connie were teasing Jeanette about whatever old song was playing over the stereo system. None of them heard Vincent Welles when he said, “Wonder what that’s like? To feel that nub? Rubbin’ up on it an’ stuff.” He licked his lips. “I heard where sometimes, after you lose a body part, the nerves get confused and all it takes is just a little touch…”

This can’t be happening.
Marlea’s breath came in short little gasps and she couldn’t stop it.
If I let this vulgar clown go on bullying and trying to intimidate me, how do I get through the rest of my life?

“Look, Mr. Welles, you’re out of order. I’m out tonight with friends and I…”

“I heard you could get your freak on like that,” he continued. “Ever happen to you? Touch your foot and turn you on?”

How do I tell my children that they have to accept boundaries, but not limits, when I can’t make this man understand that he’s abusing mine?
Refusing to look at him, Marlea couldn’t find the difference between anger and embarrassment—and she didn’t care. Drawing her own line, she realized the truth:
I do it by admitting that I’m mad as hell at Dr. Reynolds, and then I make a lie out of disability. I take myself back. Nobody can make a fool out of you if you don’t let him.
She looked at Vincent Welles and reached another decision. “Mr. Welles, you need to leave. Now.”

“Why?” He licked his lips and leaned far enough back in the booth to bring his mouth close enough to whisper, “You let me, and I’ll suck that nub and make you scream my name like I was the second comin’.”

“If you don’t get the hell away from me, and I mean right now, I’m gonna make you scream
MY
name,” Marlea promised, reaching for her fork.

“All I want to do is make you feel good,” he whispered.

“Then you won’t mind this.”

“Damn, bitch,” Welles yelped, simultaneously leaping from the booth and trying to pull the fork from his leg, a slow and obviously painful process. Wincing, he worked at his wound. “You trying to give me tetanus or somethin’? All I was trying to do was…”

“Crawl up on me, you nasty…”

“Watch who you’re callin’ a bitch!” Jeanette hissed.

“Oh, hell, no!” Rissa pushed to her feet behind the table. She pointed a finger at Welles and shook it like a weapon. “You know, there’s a name for people like you, and I happen to know what it is—got a 1600 on the SAT back in the day, and sat at the head of my class at Emory Law, yes I did. You’re an acrotomophile, mister. That means you’ve got an amputee fetish.”

“And I would see a doctor for it, if I were you, ’cause man, you are one sick puppy,” Connie added, getting loud.

Jeanette was on her knees in the booth and pointing. “She already told you, you need to leave. She’s got a man.”

“And a lawyer. Frankly, I think my brother would be real happy to kick your sorry butt, but I think the cops could get you out of here a bit faster.” Rissa pulled out her cellphone and started pressing buttons.

“You ain’t got to call the cops,” Welles frowned, tossing the fork back to the table. “No need to go making threats or anything.” He turned wounded eyes on Marlea. “I just thought you might be looking for someone to make you feel whole.”

Reaching for the fork, Marlea held his eyes. “I’m not prey or in need of pity, and I certainly don’t need that kind of ‘help’ from you.”

Libby’s bright eyes flashed fury. “She’s about as whole as one person can get, and if you don’t go far away from her, I might have to show you how whole I am.”

Phone to her ear, Rissa’s eyes slid sideways, taking in Libby’s ire. “Humph.” Her voice went low. “Must be the Black Irish in her.”

“I heard that,” Libby sniped.

“I’m just sayin’.”

Vincent Welles moved his head from side to side, his neck creaking in the process, then eased away from the table, limping and muttering something about “crazy women” under his breath.

Watching him stop at the bar to pay his tab, Rissa closed her phone and laid it on the table. “Men like that make you glad that there are decent men in the world like AJ.”

“Tell the truth and shame the devil, chile.” Jeanette’s shoulders rocked as she sipped her drink. Then she got seriously tickled and laughed until she was gasping for air. She had to slap her breast to clear her throat. “Remember when you first met AJ?”

“How could I ever forget?” Marlea dropped her head and laughed. “No one will ever say I went looking for love. He just earned it.”

Marlea’s obvious comfort in being so close to the man was not lost on the trainer.
Aw, shucks now! No wonder she’s still living at his house and wants him in on her training. She figures h
e knows her body—even better than me, and under the circumstances, I guess he does. Wonder how long they’ve been sleeping together? And why didn’t she tell me?

Probing a tooth with her tongue and watching the woman across from her, Libby recalled how very fine AJ Yarborough was the last time she had seen him, and had to raise her beer. “Well, I ain’t mad at you.”

“That makes two of us,” Connie giggled, clinking her glass against Libby’s bottle.

“Oh, my goodness.” Jeanette worked a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. “And how about how he got you up and walking?”

Marlea’s mouth dropped open. “You know about that?”

“Honey, Grady’s a big hospital, but we were all talking about you and AJ.”

“And how he got you to walk,” Connie chimed in, dodging Jeanette’s elbow. “Of course I can only repeat what I’ve heard, but I heard he was a pretty good kisser.”

“Now where did you hear that?”

“Hospital.” Connie giggled again. “He looks like a good kisser, and you’ve got to respect that in a man. I know I do.”

“Okay.” Marlea raised her hands in defense. “I respect him. He earned that, too.”

“Ooh, you’re blushing,” Rissa happily pointed out.

“Y’all are embarrassing me.” Burying her face in her hands, Marlea shook her head. “Just stop it.” Raising her head, tucking her hair behind her ears, she took a deep breath and tried to keep a straight face. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Okay, okay.” Libby signaled for another round of drinks. “But back to you, girl. Congratulations on completing your first race since the surgery.”

“Hear, hear!” Rissa drummed her palms against the tabletop. “She ran a great race, and I ought to know. I was behind her every step of the way.”

Cassie materialized at the table, sweeping empty glasses and bottles onto her tray and setting down fresh drinks. “On the house,” she said. “I just want you to know that I didn’t send him over here, and I had no idea he was gonna act that way. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

“For what?” Marlea fanned her hand. “You didn’t raise him, and I’m not about to let his issues mess up my night out.”

“I’m glad.” Cassie squeezed her arm and smiled. “Y’all let me know if I can do anything else for you.”

“That girl’s gonna get a real nice tip from me.” Libby grabbed the fresh Corona and squeezed the lime wedge into the beer. Tipping the bottle to her lips, she sighed and swallowed. “You took that real well.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Marlea swirled a straw through her drink and sipped.

“AJ would have been proud of you,” Rissa said.

“I’m proud of myself. First, I run a race and now I move on past a dog—and I didn’t even limp in the process.” Marlea high-fived Connie and Jeanette.

“Anyway,” Libby said, resting the bottle on the cocktail napkin in front of her. “I was just gonna say that I knew I could count on you to run again, and it sounds like you went and found a man in the process.”

“You’re real funny, Libby, and I can see that you think it’s a joke, but you know how they say that the only things you can count on in life are death and taxes? Well, I can add two more things that I can count on.” Marlea raised her glass for a toast and urged the others to do the same. “For better or for worse, I’ll never run the 400 again, but I’ll never have to doubt AJ Yarborough. Never.”