Synithia Williams - Overtime For Love

She closed the door and directed Cory toward the main desk. “Come on. Let’s get you signed up. This will be fun!” She managed legit excitement with the last statement.

The grin on Cory’s face melted away. Another thing she was learning about thirteen-year-old boys—they went from happy to sullen in a split second. “This is charity.”

“A favor isn’t charity. One of the boys originally registered for camp dropped out and my boss was nice enough to let me sign you up. There are plenty of other kids we work with who would love to be in your place. Do you want me to tell my boss to give the registration to another kid?”

Her office got five registrations to the activity center’s coveted camp with the Jacksonville Gators professional basketball team. Angela hadn’t asked for Cory to get the newly opened spot, but couldn’t turn it down when her boss approached her at the last minute. Cory deserved some joy. Her brother, Darryl, was serving time for embezzling funds at his job—the idiot—and his mom had up and left for New York. Angela refused to be another person who let him down. She would do whatever she could to make Cory feel wanted. Even though she had no idea what she was doing. Kids hadn’t been in her short-or long-term plans.

Cory stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “No.”

“Then zip it and let’s get you registered.” Angela rubbed his back and smiled.

She understood his aversion to accepting things. Help from others usually came with a price. Something she’d learned after her parents died and her aunt considered the money Angela’s parents left for Angela and her brother’s college educations to be her “reward” for taking in the kids. After that lesson, Angela chose to rely on herself to get what she wanted out of life. She’d taken a job as a bartender at a gentlemen’s club to pay for her undergraduate degree and continued serving drinks part-time after landing the position as an advocate to help cover the costs of graduate school. She paid her own way and was proud of that, but a coveted spot in a basketball camp with professionals was an exception to her don’t-accept-help rule.

She looked around the inside of the activity center. The large one-story building was filled with light from the multitude of windows along the front. It housed a gymnasium, rooms for various exercise and art classes, and a large meeting space. A table next to one of the classrooms had a sign that identified it as the spot to register for the Gators’ basketball camp.

They signed in at the desk and were directed inside, where twenty other kids and their parents and guardians sat waiting. She and Cory found a seat toward the front. Angela spotted and waved at the program director, Keri Little. Keri was a petite firecracker of a woman with mocha skin and natural red hair cut into a short tapered style. Angela often spoke with Keri when recommending kids from their office to the program.

Keri moved to the front of the room and tapped on the desk to get everyone’s attention. The hum of conversation disappeared and Keri gave the room a hundred-watt smile.

“Good afternoon! First, I want to thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to come to the orientation for the Jacksonville Gators’ basketball camp. This is going to be a great year, not only because I know we’ve got a great group of kids, but also because our Gators are league champions!”

Keri cheered and many of the parents and kids joined in. Cory sat up straighter. Excitement crept into his light brown eyes. Angela felt a rush of satisfaction. Finally, a show of interest.

“I know an orientation for a basketball camp may seem odd,” Keri continued, “but believe me, after partnering with the Gators for seven years to bring this program together, there are a lot of things we want to make sure we let parents and kids know. Plus, this year we have a few changes. Each year, Coach Gray lets me know which players will be participating in the camp. If you look in your packet, you’ll see a list of the players attending and when they’ll be here. Coach Gray just informed me that this year’s host player will be none other than star forward Isaiah Reynolds!”

Another murmur went through the crowd as a quick flash of excitement surged through Angela. She couldn’t serve drinks in a popular gentlemen’s club and not have come across a few members of the Gators team. As the team’s “good guy,” Isaiah was typically an exception to the rule, but he’d come in after the team won the championship and they all came in to celebrate at the club.

To her surprise, he’d hung out at the bar instead of making it rain hundred-dollar bills in the VIP section. She’d served him drinks. He’d asked about her tribal tattoo, an African symbol of strength, on her wrist. Not in the creepy, I’m-trying-to-fake-interest-to-hook-up-with-you way she often got. He’d seemed genuinely interested. Before long, they’d struck up a conversation that never lapsed or grew stale, even when she walked away to serve other customers. She’d felt a connection, so much so that she’d debated whether to give him her number if he wanted it, but he’d left without asking.

She’d been a little disappointed, but things happened for a reason. Isaiah not asking for her number had probably been for the best. Most guys who hit on her at the club only wanted a quick hookup. Not her style. That didn’t stop the flutter of her heart at the thought of seeing him again.

“I know we’re all very excited to be interacting with such talented players, but please remember, they’re here for the camp—not for socializing. We’re very protective of their privacy,” Keri said, as if she could sense the anticipation jolting through Angela.

Angela’s face heated even though Keri wasn’t looking at her. She was here for Cory. One cool conversation with Isaiah wasn’t important.

Keri’s smile shifted to a look of determination. “One of the reasons this program works so well is because of the rules. So here they are. There will be plenty of opportunities for you and your kids to take pictures with the players. So please, no selfies, unsolicited shots, or requests for pictures. Do not ask for autographs. The players will give each kid an autographed jersey at the end of camp. No asking for money.” Keri held up a hand when a few parents, including Angela, chuckled in surprise. “I know that sounds obvious, but we’ve had people try. And again, please respect boundaries—parents, that also means no fraternizing with the players, if you know what I mean. Violation of any of these rules will result in your child’s immediate withdrawal from the program.”

The lady next to Angela tapped her with her elbow. “Too bad, huh?”

Angela gave her a weak smile. When she looked at Cory he snickered with a hand over his mouth. “Why are you laughing?”

“Fraternizing with a player?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Angela rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Keri went through more of the rules. Angela pulled the papers out of the packet and skimmed through them. Despite the brief moment of excitement when she’d learned Isaiah would be at the camp, she really didn’t want to interact with the players. That would limit the possibility of them connecting Angel the bartender to Angela Bouler the advocate. She wasn’t ashamed of her bartending job, but her supervisor in the advocacy office thought the fact that she also worked at a strip club was best kept under the radar. Their director was ultraconservative, and he wouldn’t want any hint of a scandal.

A player recognizing her didn’t necessarily mean word of her part-time job would get back to their director, but to be sure, she’d limit her interactions. Drop off Cory in the morning, pick him up after work, and that was it. She could admire Isaiah Reynolds from afar and come up with silly fantasies of what might’ve happened if he’d asked for her number. She wouldn’t risk her job or Cory’s shot at some happiness just to talk to Isaiah Reynolds again.