“Nor will I. Moving on.” She strides down the hall.
The décor consists of polished antiques, wood, brass, and glass. It’s like a museum with displays and paintings that the patrons aren’t allowed to touch. Cateline included. Except there aren’t any signs or velvet ropes to keep people from the valuables. I suppose, since this is a school of etiquette, everyone should know better.
I’m not sure I do.
She climbs a set of stairs, putting her perfectly firm calf muscles on display. The desire to touch the goods grows in me. At the top, she stops in front of a window and gazes at a panorama of the city, sea, and mountains.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur.
She turns to me as if grateful I’m not a lost cause and appreciates the vista.
My thoughts skip from the scenery to Cateline as the natural light highlights her features. A charge vibrates under my skin—and it isn’t from my phone. I turned it off as instructed. It’s caused by my new teacher.
Ordinarily, I hardly bother to ask a woman her name. I prefer to call thembabe, sweetheart, whatever—less of a chance to make a mistake or mix them up. But I want to hear her say it again so I can get it right.
However, a different question comes out of my mouth. “Why will I need all of these lessons?”
“Etiquette aims to make people feel comfortable in one’s presence, to demonstrate the ability to be relied upon, and toknow how to conduct oneself in any given situation. It’s about respect. Having integrity in all affairs, private and public, and in turn, demonstrating dignity.”
“I’m not the kind of guy who goes to high tea very often.” In fact, I’m a long way from my humble beginnings in the backwoods of North Carolina.
Had she been any other woman I’ve ever met, that would’ve earned me a giggle. Instead, she looks me up and down. Never have I felt so exposed—like she knows the truth of who I am.
I shift from foot to foot, wondering what would happen if I weren’t the guy who earned the nickname, Wolf, at least when it comes to women.
“That is clear, Mr. Wolfe. But when a person knows how to handle themselves with comportment at high tea, at professional engagements, in front of peers and everyone else along the spectrum, it translates to all areas of their lives. They become stronger, they become a positive influence, a leader. You said you play safety, yes?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You do it all, covering passes and opponents. You are a line of defense, so the other players can do their job. When I do my job, you will be better able to do your job.”
“You mean you can teach me to prevent an opposing player from scoring a touchdown?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. But not necessarily on the field. Also, in life. Ego aside and humility in its place, you will have greater clarity and knowledge of who you are by the time we are done. That’s sure to improve your game.”
“I’m a star player for the greatest team in the football league’s history. Learning how to drink tea properly isn’t going to change that.”
“What about endorsements, Mr. Wolfe?”
“I have a few.”
“How long is the average career of a football player?” she asks.
“Three years if they get injured. Eight if they stay in good shape. Though Grey is defying all the odds. He’s in his forties.”
“You?” Her question is as sharp as a knife.
“For as long as I can keep myself on the field.”
“What’s your plan after that?”
It’s like she tossed a rock in a lake with my name on it and it starts sinking. I never took the long view. It’s always been about surviving another day.
“Hadn’t really thought through my plan for the future.”
“You’re birthday isn’t far off.” And if I’m not mistaken, she winks as she strides down the hall.
I practically stumble as I follow her like a puppy dog.
