Page 24 of Running
I nod. “I’m excited to work on bringing in more items. Will we talk to Johnson during the co-chairs meeting about the player donations?”
Suzie shakes her head. “No, Johnson doesn’t come to our co-chair meetings. He’s a busy guy, so he has a pass. Just message him to get the ball rolling. Mrs. Blunt and the other two co-chairs willbe there.” Mrs. Blunt is the owner’s wife, and the other co-chairs include Coach Houston’s wife, Margaret, and a wealthy retiree from the community.
“Oh, okay.”
Despite the progress in moving past our history, texting Johnson feels like it’ll open up an unknown personal dynamic between us. Especially with these random bursts of attraction to him. Maybe I should send an old-school email instead?
Susie closes the folder in front of her and looks at me. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do with the auction. We were all impressed with your ideas during your interview.”
The compliment causes a glow to rise up within my chest.
“I’ll do my best to make it a success, Susie, thank you.”
CHAPTER 8
Grace
After I leave the Waves facility for the day around lunchtime, my next stop is Landon’s house. With training camp starting, I’ve gone back to crashing at his place to help take care of Grover. Part of my “personal assistant” duties for him.
The afternoon goes quickly. His house is a little too stark for my tastes—he still hasn’t decorated it properly after two years, vowing he wants to wait for his next contract to invest in such things. It has plenty of natural Florida sunlight flooding through the rooms though, so it’s got an upbeat aesthetic in that respect.
I catch up on some of my homework and then decide to go for my run, which didn’t happen this morning so I could get to the Waves facility on time. Grover looks at me expectantly as I lace up my running shoes.
“Sorry, Grovie, but you know you hate going for as long as me.” In the past when I’ve tried to bring him, he riots about halfway through. So I leave him behind.
The run accomplishes its primary purpose of elevating my mood, but I can’t help also looking at my watch when I’m done, curious about my time.
Whoa. Eight miles in under forty-six minutes? On a real roadwith neighborhood traffic? I mean, I’ve been feeling good, and running without all the pressure has benefits, I guess.
After my shower, I throw on cozy clothes and settle back down on the couch, ready to relax for the rest of the evening.
Checking my email, I see one from Susie, addressed to all the co-chairs and me.
“Hi everyone, please help me welcome Grace Battle to our team! I’m attaching a contact sheet with everyone’s updated information too. Expect to hear from Grace soon, and we’re looking forward to our meeting next week.”
When I click on the attachment, there it is. Johnson’s cell phone number.
My next step is supposedly to follow up with him about the player donations. Instead, I procrastinate and text my friend Sarah, a player on the Orlando Surge pro basketball team.
Our paths crossed at a couple of parties that Landon brought me to during my first month in Orlando, and we immediately clicked. She exudes positive energy, but she also has a no-nonsense side that I find most relatable.
GRACE: Hey!! How’s it going? Got some cool news to share.
I give it a couple of minutes, and there’s no answer. Because it’s the WNBA season, she’s really busy this summer, and I’m not sure whether she’s online. She’s also juggling the move of her boyfriend, Malcolm, a pro tennis player, from California to Florida in the middle of both of their seasons.
I may need another distraction.
Owing my mom a call back, I decide to suck it up and do that now. Not that I wouldn’t call her back eventually, it’s just not the most relaxing activity.
She picks up on the second ring.
“Hi, Gracie. I was hoping you’d return my call soon.” Her Alabama accent is a little deeper than ours, her voice a rich mezzo-soprano. The combination makes her sound distinct and powerful.
“Sorry, Mom. I had my first day at the Waves today, and now I’m back at Landon’s taking care of everything.”
She clucks in the receiver. “My busy girl. But I know you can handle it all. You’re a Battle woman after all.”
Not that I expect any accolades from her when I do. I’d gotten compliments and encouragement from teachers and coaches for various accomplishments all my life. But my parents and, yes, often my brothers, they justexpectme to do well. It isn’t praise-worthy because it’s the norm for me.
