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    A Sporting Life
    A Sporting Life
    A Sporting Life
    Ebook140 pages1 hour

    A Sporting Life

    By KT Bishop

    ()

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    About this ebook

    The road to a championship can be difficult. A Sporting Life shares the details of four athletes chasing medals and love.

    -Sparks fly between unlikely medalist candidates Robin Friesz and Inga Johan in Curling Up.

    -Damian Stone's dream of a medal is paved with uncertainty after the breakup of his girlfriend, Candi Lee Stanton in A Perfect Combination.

    -Adam Roussel is torn between playing on the France basketball team, his girlfriend Aimee Charpentier and pursuing a NBA dream in Gold Hoops.

    LanguageEnglish
    Publisherkt bishop
    Release dateSep 8, 2017
    ISBN9781386698432
    A Sporting Life

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      Book preview

      A Sporting Life - KT Bishop

      CHAPTER ONE

      Tears fell down the face of Robin Friesz at the ground level of the Toronto International Airport. He turned down a football scholarship at Stillman College for an entry level Dee-jay job at WTOR 1240-AM in Toronto, breaking the heart of his mother, Patricia Friesz.

      Rather than wait for his suitcase to come around off the revolving rack, he impatiently tried to retrieve it himself. He hopped onto the fast-running machine, slipped off, stumbled, and unexpectedly landed right on top of a strange woman.

      Robin heard a scream in an accented female voice, and felt a hard bite on his left arm. "I’ve been attacked,’’ the woman said.

      His body sprang up and noticed a beautiful blonde wearing a huge frown stretched out on the red-carpeted floor. Her red blouse was covered in dark chocolate from a broken box of squashed candy. His heart skipped a beat and stared deep into her angry green eyes after recognizing her. Oh my God, you're Inga Johan from that Swedish TV show Crossover. His arm stung from the fall, he offered his hand.

      Inga slapped his right hand and refused his assistance. Are you allowed to walk in public? They should lock you up and throw away the key! She slowly rose and wobbled backwards.

      Her insults produced a wave of desire in his stomach. He handed her a white towel from his bag he retrieved. She snatched it to remove the chocolate, but left a huge brown stain.

      Robin handed her a few American bills to pay for the candy. It’s the least I can do. Is this enough money?

      That candy cost more than your whole wardrobe, and it’s from another country, Inga fumed. She threw the towel in his face.

      Saliva fell from his lips as he watched her firm ass wiggled in tight, light-colored blue jeans. He screamed, You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You’ll be mine.

      Inga was too angry to notice she captured his heart. She turned at him and wagged her middle finger, but it had no effect.

      ROBIN STEPPED OUT OF a cab at WCAN to greet his new bosses. He glanced at his watch and it was five-fifteen. The double glass doors were open, and he walked down the hall. The loud music blared through the speakers and rang through his eardrums. His eyes squinted over the sound.

      He heard loud voices in the conference room, but the door was locked. His right hand formed into a fist and he banged on the door. Hello, is anybody in there?

      The door slowly crept open and two slender men answered. Robin recognized them from a job fair in Atlanta: station owner, R.J. Spure and deejay Easy Rob Baseline. What's up guys, Robin said brightly.

      I forgot you were coming today, Spure said in a slurred tone.

      A strong scent and thick smoke filled Robin's nostrils as Spure opened the windows. Robin saw the rolling paper and powdered plastic bag on the table. Man, you guys got weed in here? His eyes watered and coughed heavily, Robin raced down the hall, but ran into three policemen in the hallway. His left index finger pointed down the hall. They’re all yours. Down there.

      One officer pushed a surprised Robin against the wall, and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. He grabbed the wallet out of Robin’s back pocket, reading his name. Robin Carlton Friesz, you’re under arrest for possession of marijuana. You have the right to counsel.

      Perspiration filled Robin's face and fear sunk inside him. I just got into town! I had no idea what was going on here! His pleas of innocence were ignored. He sat alongside a stoned Spure and Baseline in the back of the red and blue striped police car. Robin exhaled heavily as they darted down the street with the blinking lights.

      I should've gone to Stillman, momma was right, Robin mumbled to himself. He went from lovebird to jailbird in four hours. Either way, he was screwed.

      THE COP OPENED THE door and jerked Robin out of the police car into a red brick wall under the glare of a yellow sun. Anger fell from his dry lips. Watch it, quit treating me like I'm some goddamn criminal.

      All guilty people claim they didn't do anything, the officer said.

      With handcuffs tightly around his large wrists, he was escorted into the police station. He continued to scream at the top of his lungs and pleaded innocence. I did nothing wrong. The handcuffs were removed from his wet hands.

      The policewoman, with the name Shelly on her uniform, talked in a dry tone and sat at a desk. Tell me your name please.

      I'm innocent, I tell you, Robin said firmly.

      Your name, please, Shelly said.

      Robin lowered his gaze and didn't reveal his identity. Why should I tell my name, I did nothing wrong.

      Shelly hopped from her chair and gazed angrily in Robin's face, yelling at him. You'll have a chance to prove your case later with an attorney. For now, can you just please do as we ask?

      Robin Friesz, Robin said. His breath ragged and short, he resisted the urge to spit on her.

      His fingers were dipped into the black ink for fingerprints. His brown eyes drooped and mouth wide open at the profile shot. He cringed with a needle was stuck in his right arm for a drug test. His eyes gazed to the white floor when an officer escorted him to a holding cell with two three-hundred pound white men. His body trembled. Oh my God, what have I got myself into?

      Hands gripped firmly on the bars, Robin stared aimlessly into empty space. In a moment, he headed to his bunk, located next to a toilet. He lay down and his eyes gazed at the ceiling for most of the night.

      THE FOLLOWING MORNING, an officer arrived at the holding cell to get Robin, who was sound asleep. He slightly kicked the bars, which Robin's eyelids popped open. His face with imprint of the bars, Robin frowned. Is this when I get my bread and water?

      You’re free to go, the officer said.

      He rubbed his eyes and curled his lips into a tight smile. What took you so long to figure out I was innocent?

      Your story checked out, the officer said. You were never involved.

      I came here looking to work, and I get treated like shit? Robin said angrily. Something’s not right with this picture.

      He signed his release papers and belongings were returned to him. The woman at the desk handed Robin a small breakfast platter of orange juice, Canadian bacon, egg whites on toast and oatmeal, and pointed to a small cafeteria-like room down the hall.

      The sooner I get the hell out of here, the better off I'll be, Robin said angrily. He departed the room and headed down the hall.

      AS ROBIN SAT DOWN AT a table, his eyes were glued to the TV for breaking news. The place is being closed down until further notice. It’s an ongoing investigation.

      Relief washed over Robin. He stared endlessly into the screen. He called the Air Canada Palace, his new residence. They declined his application over the drug scandal. I'm sorry Mr. Friesz.

      His first thought was to lift the garbage can and hurl it at the TV. Instead, he rose from the table, slammed the plate into a trashcan and walked out. Fucking great. I have no job and no place to stay. He left the station and had to rethink his next option. Robin rolled his brown suitcase down the sidewalk among a thick crowd under heavy sunlight.

      Calling home was an option he never considered. His mother had left the door open for him to return, but would never live down the arrest. Patricia’s voice popped into his head. Your mother’s always right. I should have stayed in school. I knew you couldn’t make it.

      At the end of the street, he found a homeless shelter. He paused at the brick building surrounded by red rose bushes. Pride soared through him. I’m not a bum.

      Reality danced inside

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