2. The Lion Takes Notice
THE LION TAKES NOTICE
LEO
Icouldn’t focus on my writing after she left.
Estrella. The beautiful star. Even her name was captivating. I found myself rolling it around in my mind, like a perfect phrase that I couldn’t quite fit into a sentence.
I hadn’t planned to speak to anyone at the library today. This was supposed to be a day of focused writing, trying to make progress on the memoir my publisher was increasingly impatient for. “Football is Life” was already six months overdue, and I still couldn’t find the right voice for it.
But then she had walked in, a vision in a flowing sundress, looking like a Latina movie star from the golden days of film, and somehow managing to carry two children and look elegant doing it.
I had noticed her immediately, not just because of her beauty, though she was undeniably beautiful, with curves that reminded me of the rolling hills of my hometown in Mexico. One I hadn’t been back to since being recruited from Dorado almost twelve years ago.
The determined set of her shoulders, the way she moved with purpose despite her obvious exhaustion. This was a woman. A woman worth knowing.
She seemed like a woman everyone would know, but I hadn’t recognized her.
After fifteen years playing football, or soccer as the Americans called it, professionally, I had an instinctive ability to spot fellow celebrities.
The football world and the entertainment industry often overlapped, and I dated my fair share of starlets, but exclusively in Europe.
Estrella was new to me.
I glanced at my watch. My agent had suggested I get away from the glitz and paparazzi of Europe to finish this book on his home turf of the City of Angels, and we were meeting for dinner to discuss my plans for the coming season. But there was more to my trip than a writing retreat.
At thirty-two, I was approaching what many considered the twilight of a football career. After so many successful and very profitable years at Real León FC, the Los Angeles Aztecs wanted to woo me to the US.
But they wanted me more for my name than my abilities, a fact that both wounded my pride and relieved the pressure I had felt for most of my career.
With a sigh, I gathered my books and notes, tucking them into my leather messenger bag. I stood to leave and noticed a stuffed lion, with glasses strikingly similar to my own, on the floor near where Estrella had been sitting.
I picked it up, turning it over in my hand, chuckling. It must belong to her daughter. I slipped it into my bag. This gave me the perfect excuse to figure out how to see them again. I checked the schedule posted at the library entrance for their English conversation club. That was my best bet.
I would definitely be there.
The evening air was warm as I stepped outside, the Los Angeles sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.
I had chosen to walk to the library today, enjoying the anonymity that Los Angeles sometimes afforded me.
Here football wasn’t the religion it was in Europe.
Here, I could sometimes be just a man, not Leo “The Lion” Ramírez, the Mexican midfielder known for his precision passes and unexpected goals.
As I walked toward the restaurant where I was meeting my agent, I found myself hoping that Estrella truly didn’t recognize me.
The thought was both unsettling and exhilarating.
Most of my relationships began with an awareness of who I was, what I did, what I was worth.
The possibility of connecting with someone who saw me first as a struggling writer rather than a football star was... refreshing.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. My agent, wondering where I was. I picked up my pace, but my mind remained in the library, with a woman whose eyes held both fire and vulnerability, and whose accent wrapped around English words like a caress.
Hunter De la Reine was already at our usual table when I arrived, a glass of wine half-empty before him.
“There he is,” he said, standing to greet me with a hearty slap on the back. “The Lion himself. Got another couple of winning seasons in you, my man?”
I smiled, the expected response, though we both knew that my best seasons were behind me. “If my knees cooperate,” I joked.
“Your knees, my blood pressure,” Hunter countered, gesturing for me to sit. “How’s the book coming along?”
I shrugged, accepting the menu from the waiter. “Slowly. It’s harder than I expected, finding the right words for everything.”
“You overthink, Leo. Always have. That’s what makes you a great strategist on the field, but it’s hell on deadlines, I’d imagine.”
I chuckled, unable to argue with his assessment.
“I met someone interesting today,” I found myself saying, surprising both of us with the change of subject.
Hunter’s eyebrows shot up. “A woman?”
“An actress. She’s from Mexico, recently moved here with her children.”
“Children,” Hunter repeated, his expression cautious. “Leo...”
I knew what he was thinking. The tabloids had always painted me as a bachelor, a playboy. The truth was more complicated. I had never found someone who saw beyond the persona, who understood the loneliness that came with a life lived in the spotlight.
“It’s not like that,” I assured him, though I wasn’t entirely sure what ‘it’ was. “We just talked briefly. She didn’t seem to recognize me.”
“A rare creature indeed,” Hunter mused, lifting his glass. “To new beginnings, then.” I raised my water glass in return, thoughts of Estrella still swirling in my mind. “To new beginnings.”