Deadlock

“I must apologize,” she said.

Holden said, “No need. If I had a dime for every time I was misunderstood, this building would be made of crystal.”

In spite of herself, Millie smiled. “I’ll just run along.”

“Wait.”

Millie looked at him, wondering what he could possibly want.

“You feel up to shooting some hoop?”

4

A

“It is.”

“Ricks?”

“It ain’t Yasser Arafat.”

“Detail me.” A

“Our girl went to church with Mom this morning,” Ricks said.

“Big deal.”

“That’s not all.”

“Give it to me.”

“She went back later to meet the guy.”

“The minister?”

“Same one she was talking to before. She went back to the church and met the guy at the front door. Then they go inside.”

“Where is she now?”

“That’s where I left them.”

A

Click.

A

Except one.

That relationship was not with one of the so-called power guys in D.C. They were really cupcakes when it came right down to it. They would go all soft and crumbly in the face of a woman like A

The older power brokers held no allure for her. Guys like Levering. She respected them, of course, but was not interested in trophy status.

She was twenty-eight and begi

When she met Ambrosi Gallo, though, things changed.

A

A

She’d always had great instincts. Had to. To survive. When her parents died helicoptering over the Grand Canyon, her step-dad at the stick – that might have messed up any other sixteen-year-old. But A

She took another deep, wonderful drag on her cigarette, and checked out the street again. Same activity. Same going and coming. Same -

Then she saw him. On the corner just below her balcony. The way he was dressed cried out homeless person. But even from five floors up she could read him. He had a scraggly beard, a dark face. His eyes were wide. And he was looking directly at her.

She went cold. Had to be a coincidence. He had to be looking at something else. From down there, he couldn’t zero in on her. She paused a moment, waiting for him to turn away. He didn’t.

So she did. She looked at her laptop again. Took another puff on her cigarette. Told herself to relax.

But she couldn’t relax. She felt the guy’s eyes on her. Angrily, she looked back down at the corner. She was going to give the guy a glare that would melt rock.

But the man was gone.

5

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Millie said. The sun was hot on the half-court asphalt behind the church. Her ribs and legs were still tender, but here she was. About to shoot a basketball with a Christian minister. If Helen could see her now…

“You sure you want to try this?” Jack Holden said.

“Yes,” Millie said. “But no quick moves.”

“I won’t even play defense on you.” He was in his shirtsleeves, the little bead necklace exposed. “A Supreme Court justice lofting them in Santa Lucia? This is historic.”

“How did you know I played?”

“I read a story about you once. Said you liked to play ball after court. I think that is so cool.”

Holden flipped the ball to Millie. The ball felt good in her hands. It had a thin veneer of dirt on it, giving her a good grip. She approached the free-throw line, set herself, and shot. The ball hit the back of the rim and bounced out. But no pain in her ribs.

“Good thing we’ve got all day,” Jack Holden said.

Cheeky fellow, she thought. “I do have other things to attend to, Mr. Holden.”

Holden recovered the ball and passed it to Millie. “More important than b-ball?”

“Amazing, but true,” she said, even as she spun the ball in her hands, readying herself to shoot.

“Tell you how we can make it more interesting,” Holden said. “How about we play a game of Horse? I win, you decide to let the Bible back in public schools.”

It was a joke, obviously, but still cut a little close. “You want to tear down the wall of separation right here?”

“I’ll give you two out of three, how’s that?”

Millie held the ball. “You are not what I expected,” she said.

“Is that a compliment?”

A warm breeze from the desert caressed Millie’s face. “I don’t know yet.”

“Shoot,” he said.

She did. And missed.

Holden ran for the ball, limping slightly, and returned it to her. “Before you make up your mind, I actually have a confession to make.”

Millie waited for him to explain. She was growing more curious about this man by the second.

“I did in fact give my sermon a little extra today when I saw you.”

“Extra?” Millie said.

“Extra oomph,” Holden said. “You know, energy. Like when an actor is out there doing Hamlet and discovers Spielberg is in the audience.”

“It was for my benefit, this oomph?”

“Yep. Before I tell you why, though, I need to tell you the second part of my confession.”

“There’s more?”

“Yeah, the worst part, too. I’m a lawyer.”

Millie tried to keep her face from showing stark surprise. “Well, I won’t hold that against you.” This was getting really interesting. “Where did you go to law school?”

Holden bounced the ball a couple of times. “Yale.”

Another stu

“Larry Graebner.”

“Graebner! You’re kidding.”

“Life’s fu

More than fu

Holden, if he was at all offended, didn’t show it. Instead, a faraway look came to his eyes, with a tinge of sadness. “It’s kind of a long story.”

She found, suddenly, that she wanted to know what it was. “Go ahead,” she said.

“Not now. We’re about to play Horse.”

“Please,” she said. “I really want to hear it.”

Holden took a deep breath and said, “Okay, but only in the interest of full disclosure. I guess if I’m going to change the course of legal history through basketball, it’s only fair you know where I’m coming from. Let’s grab some shade.”