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A bunch of people sit in the booths and business was slow, so I chalk out some special promotion offers for the weekend and set up a Facebook page. I’m so deep into it, I almost don’t hear the man who walks up to the bar.
“Can I get a drink?” The low, husky voice says. I look up to see a familiar face staring back.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Willie Bryant, who is sat in front of me.
“I'm a superstitious man. Before every big match, I have a drink for good luck. Today, I thought I’ll try a different bar for a change.”
“How did you even find me?”
“When a man is on a mission, he finds what he is looking for.” He smiles.
What mission?
Willie’s infectious grin almost brings upon a matching smile on my face too but I suppress it. I don’t belong in their world and there’s no need to pretend with Willie or anybody else.
“Nice little place here. You own this?” He looks around.
“Yes. It belonged to my father and now it’s mine.”
“Damn, I’d like to open a bar someday. You looking for a partner?” He winks.
“No, but thanks for your offer. What can I get you?”
“Just a lime soda please.”
“You came all the way here for a lime soda?” I raise a brow.
“Well, I heard you get the best lime sodas in Santa Ana,” he smiles kindly.
He’s up to something but I can’t figure out what.
Did David send him? Highly unlikely.
At the same time, I’m too proud to ask Willie right away.
“You know we have a big game today. The Cup Final.” He pauses and then continues when I don’t respond. “To be frank with you, I'm a little nervous. I don’t like being captain. Too much responsibility.”
Perhaps he expects me to ask some questions, or maybe he’s trying to steer the conversation a certain way, but I don’t take the bait.
“Do you know that this is the first time that Anaheim Knights have ever reached any final?”
“That’s nice,” I say, as I wipe the bar counter clean.
“It means a lot to everyone here. All because of David, of course. If he hadn’t been scoring so many goals, we’d probably be at home, planning to watch the game on T.V,” he says, chuckling.
There we go. I was wondering how long Willie could go on before he brought up David.
“You planning to screen the game here?” Willie nods to the big screen TV behind her.
“We play whatever the customers want and not many of them care about soccer.” I shrug.
“As David would say, it’s football, not soccer.”
I almost smile. David has said that to me plenty of times. So much so that I’ve even started referring to the sport as football myself. I want to ask whether David will play but don’t.
You don’t belong in their world, Carrie, I remind myself.
“Back in Chicago, where I come from, everybody in the neighborhood would make fun of me for playing soccer. They thought it was strange for a tall black man like me to not dream of NFL or NBA. I wondered what they would think of me today. Captain of a soccer team, playing in the final.”
