I could hear Van Morrison's "Brown-Eyed Girl" being played in the ballroom as AJ went to the coat room to retrieve her purse. I momentarily felt a stab of guilt for leaving the reception, and Taylor, just because I felt uncomfortable. But everyone in there was so happy, so... together. It could very easily be a cheesey made-for-TV movie starring Jonathan Lipnicki as me, the single brother. And as we all know, singledom just doesn't make for an interesting story, or high ratings for that matter. Just ask Jonathan Silverman.
As I continued to cast my TV-melodrama-excuse-for-a-life that, had this been the 1990s, would've undoubtly been produced by Aaron Spelling, AJ led me to the elevator. She pressed "L" for lobby, and we rode down in silence. I probably should've asked her where we were going or what she had in mind, but I was too busy. I was in the process of casting Jonathan Taylor Thomas as Taylor. Hey! Why not? They have the same middle names.
When we reached the lobby, I mechanically followed AJ out of the elevator. She held a door for me and we began a semi-long walk down a narrow corridor. Then we came to a fork in the hallway. There was a sign in front of us with two arrows. One pointed to the right and said "pool" above it. The other pointed to the left and read "rec center" above it. We beared left.
"You up for a little one-on-one?"
"Excuse me?" I said, taken aback.
"A little one-on-one. You know, basketball."
I shrugged my shoulders. "Sure." AJ was certainly one-in-a-million. This was the first, and most certainly the last time, I would ever meet a girl who'd rather play basketball than dance at a wedding reception.
AJ showed the guy working the counter her room key, and he gave her a basketball. I glanced at the name tag. It read Bob. Well, Bob looked at us like we had three heads a piece. I guess most of the guests don't play basketball in tuxs and evening dresses.
When we got on the court, AJ put down her purse and kicked her shoes off in a corner. I tossed my jacket to the floor, which was soon followed by that damn bow tie, and unbuttoned the top collar button of my shirt. Aaah! It felt so good to be able to breath again!
"You're gonna have to take off your shoes."
"What?"
"Lose the shoes. Mine look like a pump and feel like a pump. There's NO WAY I can play in them. And if I'm barefoot, so are you. You're not gonna step on my feet wearing shoes. Besides, it's not good for the court."
At this point, I noticed two things about AJ. One, she was tall, even without her heels. She had to be, at the most, two inches shorter than Tay. Tay wound up being the shortest. I snuck up from nowhere, and ended up towering in a 6'2". Ike was about an inch or two shorter than me. The other thing I noticed about AJ was that she wasn't wearing stockings, pantyhose, or whatever the hell you want to call 'em. So I lost my socks and shoes, and rolled up my sleeves.
AJ dribbled the ball to the half-court line. "I'll spot you eight points," she said, smiling sweetly.
"Um... thanks, but no thanks. I don't need your charity."
"Just thought I'd offer. We'll play to ten. You can have the ball first, since I'm such a good sport." She shrugged her shoulders, as if she thought I was a fool for not taking her up on her offer.
Well, as it turned out, she was right on both counts. She was a good sport, and I was a fool for not taking her up on her offer. Then again, unless she spotted me ten points, I probably wouldn't have won anyway. We played four games, and AJ kicked my ass each time. Now we were taking a break. She was sitting in the middle of the court, indian-style. I was next to her, lying on my back. "You're awesome."
"Huh?"
"You're awesome," I repeated. "Where'd you learn to play like that?"
"My older brother. When we lived in Jersey we'd play in our driveway. That ended once we moved to Manhattan," she said shrugging.
"Your brother older than Nikki?"
"Yup," AJ said, nodding her head for emphasis. "I'm the baby."
"When did ya move to New York?"
"Just before I entered high school. I played varsity basketball all four years."
I rolled onto my side. I had a sneaking suspicion, and I wanted it confirmed. "What does AJ stand for?"
"Amanda Jean," she replied, looking down.
"Ah... Amanda Jean." I smiled.
The expression on AJ's face became defensive. She snatched the basketball and stood up abrubtly. "What is THAT supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. It's just that not long before the wedding I was baby-sitting Maddy. I read her a story from a book given to her by an 'Amanda Jean.' I just assumed that was you." Why the hell was she getting so defensive? Sure, Ike and Tay go by their middle names, but they don't fly off the handle when you ask them about their first ones.
"Yeah. Yeah, it was me," she said, relaxing a bit. Swish AJ sunk her fadeaway.
"Nice shot. How come when I asked Maddy who Amanda Jean was, she said she didn't know? She obviously knows you."
"I don't really go by Amanda Jean and all. Everyone calls me AJ. Maddy just doesn't know what the initials stand for. Guess Laura never told her."
"Doesn't that bother you?"
She shrugged. Swish Nothing but net from the three-point line. "Not really. I've been AJ for almost as long as I can remember. My mom tried calling me Mandie. I absolutely HATED it. I was always a tomboy. My brother started calling me AJ. I liked it, and it just stuck." Swish AJ delivered a perfect lay-up.
I stood up. "State champs?"
She nodded her head. "My sophomore and senior years. Maybe we should be getting back. We've been gone for quite a while."
"On one condition."
"Oh? What's that?" The Grecian beauty once again flashed that dazzling smile.
"You dance with me."
"Okay," she said a little reluctantly.
"Good," I said, taking the basketball from her. Swish I made my first shot of the night. Maybe it was an omen.