The Odd Ballerz

The Odd Ballerz

Ruthie Robinson

More Than Skin Series

An imprint of ARTWO Publishers, LLC
Publishing Company

ARTWO Publishers
P.O. Box 171143
Austin, TX 78717

Copyright © 2015

All rights reserved. Except for the use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, ARTWO Publishers. For information write ARTWO Publishers, LLC., P.O. Box 171143, Austin, TX 78717.

ISBN 978-0-9856971-9-8 (Kindle)
ISBN 978-0-9964389-0-2 (ePub)

Cover design by Rebecca Swift

FoglihtenNo4 Font by gluk

Print layout and eBook editions by
eBooks By Barb for booknook.biz

Other Books by Ruthie Robinson

Acknowledgements

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

About the Author

Reye’s Gold

Steady

Light’s Out

So Different

When You Fall…

Will Work for Food

Games We Play

My Chicken Story

Coach Luther C. Robinson, aka Frandaddy.
An excellent football Coach, and
an even better father-in-law.

Monday, June

M
emphis Jones passed through the doors of the women’s restroom and combination shower that was this building, the one she’d entered less than ten minutes ago in search of a place to change. It was out of her work attire and into gear befitting the physicality associated with the game of football. It was her new goal and mission in life, or at least the reason she’d shown up here today, and out in the godforsaken boonies, too. She made a bet with her baby sister, Alex, and she’d lost.

A bet to not only try-out for the Austin Ballerz, the women’s football team that made Austin, Texas its home, but to play for them next season, were she selected. The Ballerz were a young football team, the latest team to join the Women’s Football Alliance, a league for women that loved to play tackle football. They were two years old, still considered infants in the football world, according to her sister, who was the team’s current starting quarterback.

She made her way down the hall to the glass door that was the building’s entry and exit point. Today it was all about getting through the training Alex had signed her up for; training to help her improve, which was so not possible, but she was here anyway. ’Cause that was just how she rolled. She was a woman who kept her word. A quick in-and-out today, followed by a quick in-and-out at the tryouts and she was done. No more bet and no more of this football-playing nonsense.

She stopped short of the door, having caught sight of a man walking towards the building, and not just any man. He was
the man,
as her sister said often enough; the one in charge of tonight’s training session. He was the current head coach for the Austin Ballerz and former NFL quarterback, Zachary Sloan, a.k.a. Coach Z.

“Look for the dude wearing reflective shades and a baseball cap with a badger on it,” Alex had said by way of description. That was it, the only two features her sister thought important enough to share with her, which were woefully inadequate in Memphis’s estimation, now that she’d laid eyes on him for the first time. Her sister totally left off the part about him being handsome… he was, or that he was built nicely, thick, not weightlifter thick, but with enough heft to make a woman feel safe. He was that too. Nope, none of that info had Alex thought to pass on.

It was him however, complete with his baseball cap, the brown badger affixed upon the crown and underneath it, dark curly hair, cut mid-length, peeked out. He was sans the shades, the second descriptor, the ones that rendered his thoughts indecipherable, also according to her sister. They hung instead on the front collar of his shirt, leaving a pair of lovely greenish brown eyes for her and the world to admire. He was tall; the top of her head came to about his mouth, she estimated, the same place as it had with her father, who had stood six-two, and had been her personal height measuring stick. And really, her father was her anything-male measuring stick.

Wow and then wow again, Memphis thought admiringly, a nice hunk of man in loose fitting shorts and a snug fitting gold shirt. The words
Elite Football Camp
were scrawled in black cursive across the front of a chest chiseled in the image of Michelangelo’s David, and dang he was fine.

He swung the door open wide and settled his right shoulder into it. He crossed his arms in front of his delicious chest and smiled, or maybe it wasn’t quite a smile. She wasn’t sure what he was doing with his lips. Too much attitude to be considered a smile; it was more a smirk. And what a waste of two supple and succulent lips, she thought.

“You’re late, Jones,” he said.

“Excuse me?” she said, surprised. And what a way to greet a person, she thought.

“I
said
you’re late.”

“Yes, I am. Sorry about that,” she said, smiling back at him.

“Don’t be sorry. Be on time,” he said, with his pretty eyes staring straight into hers.

Okay, so he was going to be that dude, she thought, and loads and loads of her insurance training for meeting and greeting people, some not so pleasant, kicked in and her smile widened. “It’s Memphis Jones. My friends call me Memphis,” she said, extending her hand to him.

“Good to know, my-friends-call-me-Memphis. Your sister told me to expect you. She didn’t tell me you’d be late,” he said, taking her hand in his for a quick squeeze and release.

“You know, I heard you the first two times you said it. I’m late and I’m usually never late so again, you have my
apologies
. I had an appointment that ran over. Those things
do
happen you know,
plus
I had trouble finding you, which is crazy because I’m really familiar with Bastrop. I spent hours driving around here three years ago. Record heat in 2011, I don’t have to tell you, 100 degree days with no rain in sight will turn anything into a bonfire,” she said and smiled again.

“Wow, all that and without taking a breath, too. That’s pretty impressive Jones. Now if we could just get you to be on time…” he said.

Her smiled widened again. Okay, she was not going there with him and he couldn’t make her. “I’m an insurance agent, in case my sister forgot to tell you. Sometimes my schedule is not my own.”

“That’s just another way to say ‘I’m late’.”

She smiled again, holding on tightly to it as it was past ready to flee. She took in a deep breath of fresh air instead and turned her gaze to the area surrounding them. “This is a really nice place you have here, not many people would think to put a football field in the middle of their property. But it works for you I guess, with the training that you do and all, and with you being the head coach of a football team, huh. You’re Z, right?” she asked, her eyes meeting up with his again.

“It’s Coach Z to you and I’m not the head coach, just one of the assistants. The one in charge of offense,” he said.

“There is a difference? Ha, who knew? Thanks for clearing that up for me, and thanks for agreeing to train me. Alex says you are one busy man,” she said, continuing with her smile, one that was growing harder and harder to hang on to.

“Your sister’s paying me to train you, but you’re welcome anyway.”

“Say what now?”

“I
said,
your sister is paying me to train you,” he said, slowly, enunciating every word this time.

“Oh,” she said.

“Yes, oh,” he said, smiling back at her, all full of cocky confidence. He’d re-crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“I’m not at all interested in playing football
or
making your team. That’s the first thing you should know then. I’m here
only
to fulfill a bet I made with my sister. Did she tell you about our bet?”

“Yes, she did.”

“I have to try out for the team, right, those were the terms, which I’m going to do. However, everything else, including this training, is a complete waste of time, yours and mine. I’m sorry to say. There’s no way I’m making anybody’s team. I suck too much for that.”

“I hope not. I don’t like having my time wasted, but as I understand it, the bet is for you to try out for the team
and
if you are selected, you actually
do
have to play. Isn’t that more the bet’s terms?” he asked.

“Ah… yes, it is,” she said, although she hadn’t expected him to know that. “But you did hear the part about me sucking?”

“Yes, I heard it. But fortunately for you, it doesn’t matter. We lost half of our players due to injuries last year. This is a rebuilding year and we don’t have the luxury of being picky. We are in need of women. So, if you try out, you
will
make the team and you
will
be playing come fall,” he said.

“Oh, but you haven’t seen me play. Really, I’m that terrible.”

“You can’t suck badly enough for me not to take you. Outside of your trouble with time, I’ve looked forward to your arrival,” he said, removing his shades from the front of his shirt. “Alex is one hell of an athlete and if you’re anything like her it will be worth it for the team. Hell, even if you’re only one fourth as good, or one eighth as good as she, I’d be happy to have that.” He was holding his shades by their stems out in front of his face, staring into the lenses of them now, inspecting them, or so it looked like to her. “And since we’re short on time ’cause you were, what is the word I’m looking for here?” he asked. He blew into the right lens at some speck of imaginary dust, before pulling them onto his eyes.

“Late.” She pushed the word through her teeth.

He smiled. It was a thing of beauty, and full-out cocky. “Exactly, so here’s the shortened version of my pre-camp spiel. You’ll have to ask one of the boys to fill in the rest of what you missed being…”

“Late,” she said again, her smile a thin line now.

“Right,” he said, chuckling. “Every day we start camp promptly at six o’clock, which means that you’ll need to arrive early if you have to change. We start with laps, two to be exact. The boys are taking the track now, so unless you don’t want to fall behind, you should probably head over,” he said, pointing to the area behind him.

“I’m sorry. What’s this about boys and camp?” she asked, shooting her gaze to his glasses before she leaned around him, as he was blocking her view. And yes, there were boys making their way over to the football field.

“You would know the answer to your questions had you not been…” he said.

“Late,” she said loudly, before she took a breath, a calming one, and said, more quietly, “I know. Late. You’ve said it enough. Believe me, I get it. I was late and you don’t like people who are late. The whole world knows it by now. Late. I was freaking late, and if you say it one more time, I swear I won’t be responsible for my actions,” straightening up, meeting his gaze again, her smile all but gone. “And Alex didn’t tell me anything about a camp. I thought it would be one on one, you and me, personal training,” she said.

He laughed. “Nope, there’s no one on one, you and me personal training. I don’t have that kind of time. It’s you and them,” he said, pointing over his shoulder to the field behind him and smiling now, clearly enjoying her predicament.

“You expect me to train with them?”

“Yep,” he said, and it was the full-blown smile on display once again.

“Oh. That’s a lot of little boys,” she said.

“Fifty-five, if we are being exact,” he said, still smiling.

“Fifty-five!” she whispered. More to herself, he thought, watching her. Entertaining, she was. “And how old are they?” she asked.

“Not so little. Some are in high school, but mostly they are middle school age,” he said, still smiling fully, clearing enjoying himself.

“Oh,” she said, quiet for a second, her gaze still on him, and why did he have to be so pretty, she thought. She took in another breath of air. “You wouldn’t by chance have any other camps… say, like, for adults. A camp for only women would be perfect. I don’t have a problem driving to another location if I need to.”

“There’s no need, Jones. You have something against training with kids and or boys?” he asked.

“No, it’s not that, it just that I think I would feel more comfortable training with people closer to my age. Are you sure you don’t have time for individual training? I’d be willing to pay you more if that helps.”

He was shaking his head from left to right, his answer “no” before she had finished her request. “Have you played football before?” he asked.