Chapter 8 Grace
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 road with 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 just expect me to do well. It isn’t praise-worthy because it’s the norm for me.
Even Landon—an amazing big brother, for certain—misses the mark sometimes. It wasn’t unusual in high school and beyond, as we juggled the duties for our younger brothers, that something like, “Grace doesn’t need my help, she can handle everything on her own,” would escape his lips.
Never realizing that I wanted him to come to my track meets, to help me be stronger, to lift me up too.
The penalty for being highly competent, I suppose.
I start to sigh, but I stop myself so she doesn’t hear. “Yeah, it’ll be fine, Mom. I’m just a glorified house sitter for Landon, really.”
“Okay, I trust you know what’s best.” She doesn’t really, but I keep that thought to myself.
“How’s everything with you? Is Connor doing okay?” My attempt to deflect her attention.
“Oh, Connor’s still a little sad, but I think talking to Landon is helping.” Connor had heard last week he wasn’t going to be on the national soccer team for now. “He’s excited for Princeton, and the chance to play there.”
“Okay good, I talked to him a couple of days ago too, and he definitely sounded better than when he first got the news.”
“As for me, I have a new guy I’m seeing.” My mom is an open book about her dating life with me. “A banker. And work is tremendous, I am thrilled with the cases that have landed on my desk lately.”
I encourage her to expand on that front, which occupies another seven minutes of the conversation.
When we get off, I realize she never asked me how my first day at the Waves went. Typical.
Checking my texts, I see that Sarah hasn’t responded yet. I could reach out to some of my Princeton friends, but they’re all probably still at work right now.
Having run out of procrastination tactics, I fiddle with my phone. It’s five-thirty, so the guys must be headed to the player hotel they stay at for training camp.
Let me just email him. Texting feels too personal. Like ripping off my own armor.
I type up the email quickly, addressing it to Johnson and cc’ing Susie.
Hi Johnson,
It was good to see you today. Susie and I are hoping that you could encourage the players to start firming up their donations this week? I know Landon is giving us a signed jersey, and anything else like that would be great.
Please don’t hesitate to let me know if I can help in any way.
Thank you,
Grace
There. Nice and professional. Now I can relax for the night, curled up on the couch with my book. I grab the paperback I’m reading and begin where I last left off.
Only, after just one chapter, a text comes through.
LANDON: Grace, don’t kill me, but I left my toiletry bag in the bathroom at home. Can you drive it here? SORRY.
I sigh. A peaceful night delayed. Now I’ll spend an hour round trip delivering the bag to Landon.
But duty calls.
GRACE: Sure, I’ll leave in a sec.
As I head back into the living room to grab my bag, my phone dings again.
LANDON: Johnson is here with me. He says he got your email about the auction and you should stop by his room to chat more when you come. He’s in room 640.
Welp, guess that “too personal” barrier is about to be broken.
A little flutter of butterflies passes through me. I’m going to be alone with Johnson in his room?
Without letting myself think too hard about why, I delay leaving for another fifteen minutes to change back into a cuter outfit and put on makeup.
I’m not thinking about the why at all. Really.
As I drive to the team hotel, Sarah finally texts me back: “I’m free, can you talk?”
I honestly could use some friend time, so as soon as I’m parked in the Waves parking lot, I call her. Landon—and Johnson—can wait.
“Grace, I’m so sorry for being the worst friend,” Sarah says as soon as we greet each other. “It’s ridiculously hectic until the season is over. I want to hear though. What’s your big news?”
“No worries at all, you have good excuses right now.”
I explain how I’m going to coordinate the Waves auction this year, and that it gets me one step closer to my MBA degree too.
“Awesome, congrats!” She sounds legitimately happy for me, which feels good after talking to my mom. “I know our team donates something every year, but I’ll dig in and make sure it’s extra special this time.”
“You’re the best.”
“This is exactly the kind of project that could be a launchpad for your career,” Sarah observes. “The people you’ll meet, the recommendations you can get. I’m really proud of you.”
Sarah’s been one of the friends I’ve talked to the most about my plans for the future. She understands the sports world better than my Princeton friends, and has no personal agenda for my future, unlike certain others in my life.
We spend another ten minutes chatting about Malcolm’s move to Tampa, her season, and my classes, before she needs to jump off to prep for her game tonight.
“Seriously, Grace, I know you’re going to do amazing with the auction. Congrats again.”
When we hang up, I realize one thing from my call with her. This auction is a big deal, and I need to stay focused.
Yes, I’m about to go meet with Johnson alone in his hotel room, but it’s about a major professional event for the team, and he clearly has something he needs to run by me.
It’s a business meeting, so stay on track.
After I drop off Landon’s toiletry bag, I head to Johnson’s room.
Emptying my mind of anything but auction planning.