Play Dead

Timmy Daniels was a few years younger. He was a shooting guard from Brigham Young University, a super all-around athlete who had a fiery intensity that matched David’s. He liked to win, had to win, would do anything to win. His appearance might have reminded one of a little kid on the playground, but he was as tough as Clip had seen in his fifty years plus of basketball. And he could shoot. Now that David was gone, Timmy was probably the best outside shooter in the league.

Clip took out another cigar and bit off the end. “I thought it was about time the three of us met in private.”

“What’s up, Clip?” Timmy asked.

“I have the results of the team vote. You two are now the captains of the team.”

Timmy glanced over at Earl before speaking. “I think I speak for both of us when I say that that’s an honor we wish had never been bestowed on us.”

“I know,” Clip replied. “But we all know the team is not going to be the same without David. Hell, our lives aren’t going to be the same. But we have to go on. The season starts in a couple of months and we have to get prepared. Rookie tryouts are next week.”

“What do you want us to do?” Timmy asked.

Clip tossed a file to both of his star players. “Here’s some info on our draft picks and free agents who are supposed to try out for the team.”

They both scanned the reports. When he was finished, Timmy closed the file. “It’s shit.”

Clip nodded his agreement. “There wasn’t a hell of a lot of talent in this year’s draft—plus when you win a championship, you pick last. We’ve got a problem here, guys. We lost one of the league’s best players. We don’t even have a decent scorer from the forward spot now. We’ll get crushed on the break without him. So my question is this: How are we going to find someone new on that list of players?”

“I don’t know,” Tim responded. “But you’ve been in tougher spots than this, Clip. You’re famous for the last-minute deals you’ve made over the years. You’re not called the Miracle Worker for nothing.”

Clip chuckled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Earl, you haven’t said anything. What do you think?”

“No one can replace David,” Earl said quietly.

“I know that,” the Miracle Worker replied. “I’m not looking for a replacement. The team as a whole is going to have to shift perspective. Without David, you’re not going to get those passes, Earl. We’ll have to play a slower game, a more controlled game. You have to post up down low like you did at Notre Dame. And, Timmy, your outside shot is without question the best around. But we’re going to need you to penetrate the middle and open it up. You’re going to have to be more creative. But even with all that, we are still going to need more parts to make this machine run smoothly. I may have to make some trades.”

“Trades?” Timmy repeated. “You can’t break up this group.”

“It’s a business, Tim. I traded three popular veterans to draft David and Earl, and I’ll deal players if I have to.”

“Isn’t there another alternative?”

Clip nodded. “Sure.”

“What?”

The Miracle Worker stood. “Hope for a miracle.”

STAN woke with a start. He wondered if he had had another bad dream. Impossible. No way. For the first time, everything was going his way.

He swung his legs over the bed and grabbed the clock. Three thirty a.m. What a day he had had yesterday! As if duping Laura yesterday morning was not enough luck, the night had crowned him with yet another spectacular achievement. Maybe he should have held back. Maybe he should not have tempted the gods by stretching his luck, but oh, man, he could not resist.

The woman lying next to him stirred and twisted her naked body toward him. Stan gasped at what he saw. His groin was reacting to just looking at her.

“How do you feel?” he asked her.

Gloria looked up at him with the eyes of a small animal. “Very happy.”

“Me, too,” he said. “Do you know that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?”

Her body quivered. “Thank you.”

“I mean it. And it’s been so long, Gloria. It’s been so long that I can’t remember ever feeling this close to someone.”

“Do you mean it, Stan?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Please don’t tease me.”

He lay back down and put his arm around her warm body. “I would never do that, Gloria. I . . . I don’t know if I should say this.”

“Please,” she urged.

“Well, this may sound corny, but I feel like last night was the start of something wonderful.”

“Really?”

“I hope I’m not being too forward,” he continued. “Usually, I’m pretty shy and laid-back. I don’t open to a person very easily. But it’s just that I feel so right when I’m with you. Like I can say anything.”

She smiled hopefully. “I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

Gloria nodded. “I haven’t been with a man in over a year.” She adjusted herself in the bed. Stan watched her. She had the nicest breasts he had ever seen. Large, round, firm. Mr. Happy felt like a block of lead between his legs. “I want to tell you something before we go on with this.”

“What is it?” Stan asked.

“It’s about my past.”

“You already told me about that. It doesn’t matter to me, Gloria.”

“Did I tell you about the last time I was with a man—or should I say men?”

Stan tried to hide the look of surprise on his face. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

“Unfortunately, I do. Then you can leave if you want.”

About a year earlier, Gloria had been living on the West Coast with a dope dealer. For about the millionth time in her life, Gloria was sure she had found the right man. Tony might have been a dope dealer and a small-time pornographer, but he was not like the others. He was gentle. He genuinely cared for her. True, he had her hooked on drugs but she had been an addict even before they met. And Tony said she had it under control, that to go through withdrawal would be painful at this stage. So he kept giving her the needles with heroin and the cocaine for her nose because he cared, because he did not want to see her suffer.

But there were still fits of depression for Gloria. She had no self-esteem, no self-respect. But that wasn’t so bad. Not as long as she could drug herself to a point where it did not matter. Sometimes, days would go by and she would not leave her bed. Sometimes, weeks would go by and she would not remember anything that had happened.