Chapter Eighteen

I sat at my desk at the TV station in Denver, lost in thought. A week had gone by since I’d told Zave goodbye. Several pictures had appeared in the news. Photos of Zave with Rhonda either clinging to his arm staring up at him with an adoring puppy-dog-look or standing nearby in the background of one of his after-game interviews. He had called and texted me numerous times. I finally blocked his number and erased the voice messages without listening to them. My heart couldn’t take any more of this. I didn’t want to be played any more, and it was over. I didn’t trust men, and I certainly didn’t trust him.

Tatum asked about him, but I always told her he had basketball games to play and was a very busy man. I assured her each time that she and I were a team of our own and then distracted her with other things.

One night at bedtime, she asked how come he didn’t call her anymore. A lump rose in my throat, and I snuggled her close as I scrambled for something to say that was true but wouldn’t break her heart…like mine. Finally, I said, “You know, Tatum, Tree is a very famous man and has many people all around him and has so many things to do. I think he got too busy.” The voice in my head added, “He’s too busy with somebody else, not us.”

“Noelle? Mel wants to see you.” I shook my head to clear it from my sad thoughts and looked up at Freddy as he stumbled by my desk carrying a load of camera equipment.

“Thanks, Freddy.” Good. I needed a new assignment to take my mind off Zave.

****

“You want me to what?” I asked incredulously. My heart pounded and I fisted my hands. “Mel—um, I don’t—uh, cover the big sports stories in Denver.” I stopped talking. I knew I was rambling.

Mel looked at me in surprise. I had never hesitated accepting a story assignment before.

“Look, I know it’s a Friday night, so yes, it would be overtime, but Mandy has pneumonia and won’t be able to be part of the ‘Andy and Mandy Sports Team.’ You’re my best reporter, so I’m giving you the opportunity.” Mel gave me his sweet, grandfatherly smile of encouragement.

“But I haven’t ever covered sports. I mean, I’m not really a sports reporter.” The thought of having to cover the Denver Nuggets game…which meant being in the reporting spotlight around Triple X’s huge spotlight, made my stomach quake.

“Look, Noelle. You’re a reporter. Reporters report. You know how to do that, and you do it well. Just enjoy the game and then report.” Mel’s voice had changed to his “I’m the boss” voice that booked no argument.

“You and Andy have seats in the second row, center court. Relax and look at it as the plum assignment it is. I know you’ll do great. Thank you, and…you’re welcome.” Mel turned and walked back into his office.

He must have thought it was nerves. He was only partly right. It was nerves, stomach, head, and heart.

All week long I dreaded Friday, which of course, made it come faster. I had reserved the corporate condo in case I was too exhausted to drive home. I dropped Tatum off at Joy’s for the night.

Joy gave me a long hug, almost bringing me to tears again, and told me to hang in there. We Frost ladies were tough, and I would get through this night.

As I drove to Denver, my stomach knotted up every time I thought of seeing Zave. I figured watching him play was going to be rough. I knew that more often than not he was interviewed after the game. I planned to maneuver it so that Andy did that interview. It was too soon to come face to face with that man. I always felt better in tough situations when I had a plan, so now I had my plan and decided I could make it work.

Mel had given me Saturday off, since I was covering the game Friday night. I forced myself to change gears and focused on the fun things Tatum and I had scheduled for tomorrow after her gymnastics.

Images of Zave kept popping into my mind in spite of my efforts to block them out.

“Go away.” I ordered him out of my head. Another happy Zave memory showed itself, and I gave up. It was going to be a rough night.

I met Andy at the station, and we took a CBS 4 vehicle. I sat quietly as we drove and wasn’t good company, but Andy didn’t seem to mind.

He loved sports, especially basketball, so he talked about who was favored to win and which player would match up best with players on the opposing team. The stats this man knew were mind-boggling.

I was grateful for his chatter.

We made our way to our seats, greeting a few other reporters on the way. There was Verlayne Sample, the blue-haired Denver Nuggets’ most fanatical fan.

She squealed when she saw me and gave me a big squeeze. She asked me something, probably about how Zave and I were doing, but I couldn’t hear her over the music blasting from the sound system in the jumbotron up in the highest reaches of the Pepsi Center.

I slumped in my seat and pretended to read the program as my stomach throbbed in rhythm to music. A picture caught my eye; there was Zave, grinning into the camera, his green eyes even more brilliant because of his flushed face. He looked so good. My heart pounded in my chest.

I couldn’t keep beating myself up for falling for this guy. Any woman would. Next time I thought I was starting to like a guy, I’d hire an investigator first thing, to see if he is a no-good cheater. Yes, that’s what I’d do. Good, I had a plan. I was now going to sit up and enjoy the game, like my boss told me to.

The lights dimmed. My heel bounced up and down on the floor, and I clutched my hands tight.

The crowd roared and stomped their feet. It was time for the team to make their Hollywood-like entrance. The disco-mirrored ball reflected streaks of light around the cavernous arena as the players jogged out of their tunnel.

As much as I tried to avoid it, my eyes searched until they found number thirteen. The memory of him telling me, “I wanted to kiss you from the first moment I saw you on August thirteenth,” brought a new dagger slash to my heart.

“Stop it, Elle. No more thinking about stuff like that,” I scolded myself. No one around seemed to notice.

Zave, in the flesh, stood about twenty feet away. It was dark in the stands so I was sure he couldn’t see me. I was torn between sadness and sweet memories. Sitting there was so much like that night I’d gone to his game, followed by dinner, dancing, and…kissing. It had been amazing to spend time with him. I’d really felt that he was different.

“Put it aside, Elle.” I said out loud. “Enjoy the game,” I repeated over and over again as I wrung my hands.

“What are you saying, Noelle?” Andy hollered over the noise.

“Oh, nothing.” I smiled at him.

A local high school band played “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

Zave stood at attention with his hand over his heart. He’d told me how much he loved our country and one of his favorite things about the games was the chance to honor our flag at the beginning. That had added to all the things I admired about him.

A lump grew in my throat, and an unwanted tear escaped down my cheek. I had wanted him to be the one.

After the cheers, the full arena lights went up. I watched him run onto the floor when the announcer boomed the starters’ names. The crowd went wild chanting, “X, X, X, X…”

“Keep it together, Elle. He can’t see you. He’ll be focused on the game,” I assured myself out loud. Just in case, I leaned back in my seat and placed my large, purple floppy purse on my lap in an attempt to protect my heart. I opened my program and peeked over the top.

“Snow cones,” a vender hollered from the aisle.

“Want one?” Andy turned to me.

“Sure. Half cherry, half blue raspberry, please.” My comfort food, and I sure needed comfort right now. Plus eating one would help hide my face.

“You want two?” Andy looked confused.

“No, one—half cherry, half blue raspberry.” I grinned at him like it was normal.

“Okey-dokey.” Andy called out my order and then a grape one for himself.

“Here you go, Noelle. Isn’t this the greatest job in the world, sitting here eating snow cones and watching the Nuggets play?” Andy was like a little kid on Christmas Day.

“Uhh…yup,” was all I could think of as a reply—always the articulate reporter. No way was I going to tell Andy that I was uncomfortable being here and scared that Zave might see me.

The tip-off went to the Nuggets, so the cheering stopped any more discussion, thank goodness. I lowered the program and kept nibbling on my snow cone, keeping it in front of my face. The teams ran up and down the court, trading baskets back and forth, and Zave had a great game, as usual.

At halftime, Andy turned to me, looking animated. “Can you believe Triple X? Man, the way he’s playing tonight. It looks like he’s in the ballpark for another triple-double.” Andy slapped me on the shoulder like I was one of the guys.

“He is amazing.” My heart sank. I didn’t want to spend halftime talking about Zave, so I excused myself for a restroom visit.

I took my time and returned about a minute into the third quarter to see Zave swish another three, putting the Nuggets ahead by ten. The crowd went wild. I had to admit, even though my heart ached, it was amazing to see such a gifted athlete perform. Zave moved so smoothly out on the floor and made those three-pointers look like he could sink them in his sleep.

The crowd roared again.

“Did you see that steal? Can you believe it? Triple X hits a three and then steals the ball. Here he comes. He’s gonna dunk it!” Andy jumped to his feet, as did everyone around us.

I couldn’t see, so I stood up and leaned to the right of the guy in the front row.

Zave was dribbling down the court. He glanced around to see where the opposing team members were, and our eyes met. A zing zapped through me as Zave’s gaze penetrated deep into my soul. I froze.

He must have lost focus on the ball because it bounced to the side and out of bounds. He slowed to a jog as he continued the dribbling motion, bouncing the empty air. The ref blew his whistle. The crowd went silent for the first time all night.

Zave stopped moving but continued to stare at me as his teammates walked toward him. Most of them had their arms stretched out as if to ask, Where’s your head, bro?

Zave snapped out of it, releasing my eyes. My knees gave out and I dropped back into my seat, stunned, my heart pounding a million beats a minute. Whatever we had between us was still powerful, regardless of the break-up.

The coach sent in a sub, and Zave walked back to his seat without looking at me. I couldn’t blame him. I mean, I’d broken up with him without telling him the reason or giving him the chance to confirm or deny it. I’d shut him out by avoiding his calls and texts—very grown up of me.

My protective side reared its head again, and I thought, what was there to tell? He was a player and he played me and…I wouldn’t be played anymore.

An usher reached between the two fans in front of me and handed me a note. Andy leaned over my shoulder to read it with me.

My fingers trembled as I opened it up.

Noelle,

We need to talk after the game.

Things are not always as they seem.

Zave

Things were not always as they seemed. Sure, but that didn’t make any sense here. I’d heard his voice on the phone with Rhonda in that horrible call, loud and clear.

“Is that from Triple X?” Andy interrupted me, sounding excited.

I folded the note and dropped it into my bag, stalling for an answer. “Umm, well, I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Good, Elle, real clever answer—I guess we’ll find out. I certainly didn’t want Andy around if—and that was a big if—I decided to talk to Zave.

I fidgeted throughout the rest of the game as it went by in a blur.

Zave seemed out of focus. His timing off. He threw up bricks, turned the ball over, and his passing was almost comical.

The other players fed off Zave’s poor performance on the court. The Nuggets looked more like a college team in the final quarter instead of the number one pro team in the world. For the first time in weeks, the Nuggets lost. The crowd seemed stunned. Many of them left before the final buzzer.

As a fan, I felt bad, too, but it was time to go to work. I wanted to do the interviews and get out of there fast.

“Hey, Noelle, since Triple X wants to talk to you anyway, why don’t you do the interview with him?”

I panicked. Sweat trickled down my back. “Why don’t I do an interview with the sixth man, Carmichael? I made a few notes when he came off the bench. He was one of the few bright spots of the game.”

“Mandy and I usually fight over who gets to interview Triple X, and here I am being a gentleman, offering you the prime interview. Come on, Noelle, take it. You may never get a chance to talk to a superstar again.” Andy winked at me and climbed over the front row seat.

“Wait,” I called after him, my heart racing. Apparently, Andy couldn’t hear me above the noise of the crowd moving out of the building.

“You go talk to that boy,” said an exasperated-sounding voice to my right.

I turned to see a head of blue hair attached to Verlayne Sample, the little elderly uber fan.

She took my arm and scolded, “Young lady. You lost us a game tonight. Whatever you let get between you and your man, you go work it out with him and set the Nuggets’ world right. I don’t want any more games lost. You hear?”

My mouth hung open in surprise.

Verlayne reached up and actually pushed my jaw closed before I could reply, and added, “Go on now. Go talk to him. He’s over there.” She shoved me onto the basketball court.

For a little old lady, she had a lot of spunk and some strong arms.

Freddy, the cameraman, appeared at my side. “Come on, Noelle, we need to catch Triple X before he heads into the locker room.”

I sighed. “Well, I guess I’m talking to Zave after all,” I said to nobody in particular.

We wound our way through the crowd on the court to the one man I wasn’t ready to face.

My heart dropped to the floor. My voice shook as I stood before him. “Xavier, a tough game. What happened here tonight?” I purposely didn’t use his nickname, Zave, or even Triple X. That was for friends and fans, and I was no longer either one of them. I managed to hide my emotions and set my face to neutral for the camera as I raised the microphone up close to his lips—those soft, sexy lips. “Stop it right now, Elle.” I murmured to myself, rattled.

“Stop it? Don’t you want me to answer your question?” Zave looked at me with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes, of course.” This time I glared at him.

His face broke into a huge smile as he said, “It wasn’t our night. I think, overall, our concentration was off.”

“You seem pretty happy for having your first loss of the season.” I looked at his chin—I couldn’t handle seeing that wonderful smile up close.

“You win some, you lose some. That’s all part of basketball. You have to be able to let things roll off and continue to believe. Things aren’t always as bad as they seem. We’ll be ready for our game tomorrow night. Next time I hope to have my lucky charm on my side,” he said in a cheerful voice, matching his big smile.

“A lucky charm? What is that?”

I held the mic close to him again. “It’s my favorite person in the whole world, Noelle Frost.” His grin continued.

I looked at him with eyes narrowed, but a good reporter follows a lead.

“And who is your favorite person in the whole world?” I challenged him, then took a deep breath and braced myself for the moment of complete truth with this man. My self-talk kicked in. Pull it together, Elle. Be professional. If he says “Rhonda,” then ask about the rumor of them being engaged. Maybe I could get something positive out of this, like a scoop on the wedding date…if I didn’t lose it and start crying on camera.

“Noelle.”

“Yes, Xavier?”

“Who’s on first…” Zave chuckled, then lowered his voice and spoke quietly, “I just told you. My lucky charm is you, Noelle.” His smile went soft. He looked at me as if the camera didn’t exist anymore.

I stared at him.

“Look, Noelle, you have to listen to me now. I’m not engaged to anyone. There isn’t anyone else. I know someone told you different, but that’s the truth. Okay…there is another little lady, named Tatum, who I’m crazy about, but I think you’ll agree that she’s too charming for her own good.”

As usual, I was full of words of wisdom and stared at him with my mouth open, ready to catch passing flies.

Zave leaned closer and said, “Noelle, I need you both in my life.” His look was so intent, I almost took a step backward.

“Uh, we’re broadcasting live. You do know that, don’t you?” I managed to ask as my knees wobbled and those dog-gone butterflies made their way around my stomach as if they were racing in Monte Carlo.

“Yes. And if this is what it takes for you to hear me and believe me, then so be it. You’re a reporter, and now you got your scoop. I’m hoping this is a win/win situation.”

And then that handsome, charming giant of a man leaned down and planted an earth-shattering kiss on my lips for the whole world to see. I forgot everything else and dropped the mic.