The Striker's Chance (10 page)

The interviewer moved on to a question about how Kepler was scouted and what his hopes were for his career in Spain, but Holly was barely listening.

She hadn’t needed an explanation of what townships were. She’d once seen a TV program about the young boys drafted into gangs in one of the townships near Johannesburg and the violence and criminality that defined their lives from an early age.

She tried to imagine Kepler as a child chasing a dirty, partially deflated soccer ball through a narrow alleyway between the tin walls of two shacks. His blond hair and pale skin standing out in stark contrast to his African teammates, and peals of innocent, carefree childhood laughter ringing out from the motley crew.

Holly stared into the darkness beyond the windows, not seeing anything as the wheels in her mind began turning, faster and faster and faster.

She knew exactly what to do.

Chapter Nine

Kepler winced as he eased himself into the square-shaped leather chair. His leg had been fine during the morning’s team training session, but his hamstring had seized up while walking off the pitch. Now it emitted a dull throb every few seconds. He stretched his legs in front of him, the heels of his sneakers scraping the thin carpet.

Holly had asked him to meet her in the Gold Mine, the exclusive luxury restaurant and viewing suite accessible only to holders of gold-level season tickets. She’d cryptically told him to wear something he could move around in, and he’d settled on a Discovery polo, khaki cargo shorts and his running shoes.

She’d been so vague about the day’s plan that Kepler half expected to walk into some surprise PR stunt she knew he would’ve refused if given the option, but the Mine was as inoperative and deserted as it always was on a Tuesday afternoon.

As much as he didn’t like what her job involved, he had to admit she was damn good at it. A blurry photo of him grabbing Evan’s shirt had appeared front and center in the Recorder’s Sunday edition, but the total absence of the incident from any of the other papers had given the article a surreal, almost embarrassing quality.

That hadn’t stopped the chiding phone call from his parents, or the creepy congratulatory one from Alan Brady, but all things considered he’d gotten off lightly.

The door swished open and Holly was there, even more stunning in person than in the increasingly erotic fantasies that kept him up at night. He’d never been more wholly consumed by his longing for a woman, and he knew she had to feel at least some of the same desire. But he wanted much more from her than a passing sexual affair. That meant he had to respect her stipulation that they keep things professional.

For now.

She greeted him with a warm smile, the folds of her pale blue dress whispering as she crossed the room. He realized too late that there was no way to make a smooth exit from the low, trendy chair, and he hauled himself up with more effort than he would’ve liked.

If Holly noticed, she mercifully gave no sign. “I’ve got a surprise for you today. Are you ready to go? Let’s take my car.”

His curiosity was piqued, yet he was still wary of what a public relations surprise might entail. He nodded toward the door. “Lead the way.”

Twenty minutes later she parked in front of the last place Kepler expected: a school.

“Okay, I’m definitely surprised,” he informed her as they walked up the path to the door. Laurel, the photographer from the
Women’s Wellness
shoot, was waiting for them at the entrance.

“I know this probably doesn’t compare to the townships in South Africa, but we’re in one of the most deprived neighborhoods in Charlotte. Most of the students at this school come from families where the household income puts them below the poverty line,” Holly explained.

“These things are relative. The kids here may have a better situation than the ones growing up in townships, but that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve help or attention. But I still have no idea what we’re doing here.”

Laurel shook his hand when they reached her. “Thanks so much for letting me be involved in this,” she enthused, clearly unaware that he had no part in setting up whatever
this
was. “I’ve never shot for anything as big as the
Chicago Chronicle.
”

As Laurel headed toward the front office, Kepler turned to Holly. “I think it’s time you told me what I’m about to do.”

“The
Chronicle
is doing a series of articles on investment in school sports programs. I suggested they include a short piece on how sometimes lopsided investment means certain sports are overlooked, and the kids who might be great at those games miss out on all the potential benefits, particularly scholarships. Today we’re doing the photos, but later this week we’ll have a phone interview with the reporter, and you can talk about how your career was almost over before it began because your school only offered rugby and cricket.”

He gaped at her in astonishment. “How did you know that?”

“I have my ways,” she said coyly. “In the meantime, the teachers here have nominated five boys and five girls for you to meet today. They’re all aged ten and eleven, and they’re in a special program for kids who have nowhere else to go during the summer and whose parents can’t afford childcare. I thought you could take them through some drills, answer some of their questions. Then we’ve got a bunch of Discovery merchandise for you to hand out to them. There’s no soccer team at this school, but it’s worth at least trying to get them interested.”

A small group of what he assumed were teachers and administrators were coming down the hall toward them, and Kepler turned his back so they wouldn’t see the panic on his face.

“I don’t know anything about coaching kids,” he whispered. “I don’t know anything about kids at all.”

“You’ll be fine,” she assured him, and stepped out to greet the school personnel.

He followed along as they exchanged pleasantries and proceeded through the summer-empty corridors lined with bulletin boards, but his mind was a tumult of panic and terror. Both his parents were teachers, and he’d grown up listening to so many stories of unruliness, disrespect and borderline criminality that he’d long decided the teaching profession was far too hard for him to ever consider. Now he had to keep ten kids entertained and under control, in full view of the woman he was still hoping to win over, with a photographer present to boot.

He’d played championship matches and been less nervous.

“And we even looked South Africa up on the map, so they all know where you’re from,” the principal was saying jovially as she swung open a door and led them to a small fenced playing field covered in dry, patchy grass. Ten African-American kids in various versions of gym clothes stood in a fidgety line, and all of them looked up expectantly as he stepped onto the field.

The principal introduced him to the kids, running through their names so quickly Kepler only caught one or two. She reminded the kids to behave then joined the rest of the adults on an unbalanced metal bench on the sidelines, leaving him to stare dumbly at his charges.

Laurel started snapping away, and he cleared his throat anxiously. “So, hi, everyone. I’m Kepler—”

“Hello Mr. de Klerk,” they chimed in unison, evidently trained to greet their teachers in a similar vein. Taken aback by how dutiful and perfectly in sync their voices were, he found himself cracking an affectionate smile.

“It’s okay if you call me Kepler for this afternoon,” he told them, and he thought he saw one or two of them relax. “I moved here a few weeks ago from South Africa and play forward for Charlotte Discovery. Have any of you been to see Discovery play?”

The blank expressions he received were just reward for forgetting how the other half lived. “Does anyone know what the forward does on a soccer team?” he asked, changing tactic.

This garnered him a few shaken heads, and he gave a brief explanation of the positions in a soccer team, plus a couple of other basic rules of the game. Then, when he was sure they were as bored of standing around as he was, he asked, “Who’s ready to run?”

Ten eager hands shot into the air, and he motioned for them to help him open the mesh bag of soccer balls that had been left near the gate to the field.

For the next half hour he took them through some basic passing, dribbling and shooting drills. At first he felt awkward telling the kids what to do and was so fixated on what to do next that he wasn’t really paying attention to how they were doing with what he’d already given them. But they responded with such enthusiasm and interest that he quickly shook off his initial nerves and started to enjoy reaching back into his memory for the practice drills he’d enjoyed at their age.

“Okay, this one’s called the traffic jam,” he announced, oblivious to Laurel darting around the perimeter of the field with her camera clicking away. “The ball is your car, and you have to steer it safely around the road without losing control. When I say green, you dribble, in any direction you like. When I say red, you stop and put your foot on the ball. If anyone crashes into someone else, you have to come to me, the mechanic, and wait thirty seconds while I fix your car. Everyone ready?”

Ten heads bobbed excitedly. Kepler grinned. “Green!”

As he shouted instructions, the kids worked to control the ball. They were generally of average athletic ability or slightly below, but they put their all into it and that went a long way.

The one exception was a girl taller than the rest, whose lanky but powerful gait reminded him of his own teenage years. Her face was deeply focused as she ran, her movements were clean and efficient, and she controlled the ball with instinctive grace and agility.

Kepler wondered what he could do for her. He didn’t know anything about the women’s game, let alone the recruiting systems for someone as young as eleven. He made a mental note to ask the guy in charge of Discovery’s youth academy and to get this girl’s contact details to pass on. Hers was a raw talent too exciting to waste.

Exactly what the scout had said to his parents fifteen years ago, he realized with a smile.

All too soon Holly gestured for him to wrap up. The kids stowed the balls in the bag, and the principal suggested they sit in a circle on the grass to ask their questions. Kepler lowered himself down carefully. His hamstring would complain about him sitting cross-legged on an uneven field, but he didn’t want to be the prima donna athlete who needed a chair brought out for him while the kids sat on the dirt.

“What kinds of questions do you have for me?” Several hands shot into the air. He pointed at the scrawniest of the boys.

“How much money do you make playing soccer?”

Over the kids’ heads Kepler could see the principal cringe, but he just smiled. “That’s a fair question. Let’s just say that I earn more than I probably deserve for playing a game.”

He caught Laurel’s approving smile behind her camera as she moved behind the kids’ backs. Another hand went up.

“What’s it like living in South Africa?” asked a wide-eyed girl.

“It’s the best place in the world,” he said honestly. “It’s almost always sunny. On the coast you can go to the beach, and in the interior you can go on safari and see all sorts of animals.”

“Like lions?” a boy piped up.

“We have so many lions, we put them on the money.” Kepler grinned, pulling out his wallet. He flicked through the dollars to the wad of rands still at the back, found the fifty-rand note and passed it around to show them the lion printed on the front.

“South Africa has a lot of problems,” he said as the note circled back to him and he returned it to his wallet. “And sometimes it’s hard to be proud of your home, especially when people like to remind you of everything that’s wrong with it. But I still love it. At the end of the day, if we don’t take pride in where we’re from and try to make it better, who will?”

He studied their young faces, wondering if what he was trying to say was making an impact, or if he was being too cryptic, or if he was boring them.

But slowly their serious, attentive faces warmed into smiles of comprehension and a few knowing nods. Kepler released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Maybe he hadn’t totally screwed this up.

“All right children, let’s all say thank you to Mr. de Klerk, and then I think we have a couple of things for you each to take home.” The principal clapped her hands briskly, and after another dutiful chorus of “thank you” the kids leaped up to collect the goody bags of Discovery merchandise Holly had brought.

Kepler’s hamstring had stiffened as he’d sat on the ground, and he carefully stretched his leg in front of him as he prepared to stand. A shadow interrupted the late afternoon sun, and he glanced up.

Holly stood over him, her hand extended.

He accepted her grip and heaved himself to his feet, trying to ignore the frisson of heady desire that the touch of her petal-soft skin on his always produced. He was brushing the grass from his cargo shorts when he noticed Holly watching him intently.

“What?” he asked. “I thought that went well.”

“Kepler, if you’re in pain you need to tell someone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, embarrassed that he must have let on how sore he was.

“I think you should sit out the game on Saturday,” she said decisively. “Discovery were able to beat St. Louis before you joined—they should have no problem now. Plus, it’s away, which means extra wear and tear in traveling and no hometown publicity. Then you’ll be fresh for the Dallas match next week.”

“I’ll make the call on when I do and don’t play, thanks,” Kepler snapped. Then he caught sight of the kids excitedly pulling hats and shirts out of their goody bags, and he sighed. “I really enjoyed this afternoon. It was a great idea on your part. You keep doing your end, and I’ll do mine. Okay?”

She nodded, and her concern-darkened face brightened. “You were amazing with those kids today. This wasn’t just a PR event. You really got through to some of them.”

“Do you think so?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and toed some dirt with his sneakered foot. “I wasn’t quite sure what to say.”

Her responding smile filled him with warm reassurance. “You were terrific.”

He grinned. “I want to speak to the principal about one of the kids, and then we can go. Is it worth asking if I can buy you a drink to celebrate my new career in inspirational speaking?”

Holly’s smile was affectionate and bemused, but she shook her head. “No, it’s not.”

“Coffee?”

“Still a no.”

He shrugged. “Worth a try. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Even though he’d been rebuffed, Kepler couldn’t stop grinning as he walked over to the school staff. He’d get a yes out of her one of these days, he was sure of it.

* * *

Holly watched as he shook hands with the teachers. The principal was gesturing to one of the kids and speaking animatedly, and Kepler crossed his arms as he listened.

He really had been amazing with the kids. Patient, engaged, enthusiastic. Without a hint of the ego he so readily showed to the Discovery staff.