6.
The Bakers lived in a modest, well-kept, three-bedroom split level in a clean, stable neighborhood two blocks behind State Highway 15, the route between downtown Gettysburg and the Mason-Dixon Line, the border between Maryland and Pennsylvania oft-crossed by freedom-seeking slaves before and during the Civil War. The site of the Baker’s home, less than a half-century old, might have been a focal point for skirmishes between Union and Confederate troops, or a resting spot before they resumed shooting.
Jay parallel-parked his Mini Cooper into the tight space between the Baker’s driveway and their neighbors. Dressed in Gettysburg sweatshirt and jeans, same as the last time, Stefani made hook shot after hook shot into the hoop over the garage door. As soon as she saw Jay exit his car, Stefani grabbed her basketball and held it tightly in her arms just as she did in the photo in her father’s office. “Don’t you have other places to be?” she asked.
“Your dad thought you might want a re-match. Game?”
“Nah. Not in the mood.” Stefani bounced her ball from one hand to the other.
“You remind me of some guys I knew in high school and college." Jay reached for her ball as she bounced it again. He tapped it away and passed it rapidly between his hands. "They thought they had game, but they always had excuses: the coach screwed me; I got hurt; I didn’t like school; stuff like that. Bragged about high school glory days. I hope that won’t be you. You’re too talented for that.”
“They were better than you,” Stefani answered, her tone still sarcastic.
“I figured them out the next time, or the time after that. Whole trick was to shut up, play, not let them intimidate me.”
“Yeah, like I was afraid of you.” She brushed stray locks of hair from her eyes. "You couldn’t beat me at H-O-R-S-E.”
“You can shoot, but your dad says that the rest of your game needs work.”
Stefani raised her middle finger. “Oh yeah? I'll make the team without your help.”
“Okay, but will you start?”
“I deserve to, and Bonita agrees.”
“All right, call Bonita. Can’t imagine she'd turn down a challenge."
Stefani laughed. “Are you nuts? She’ll mop you all over the court, and you know it.”
“If I beat her one-on-one, you do everything I say, no questions asked. I lose, its good-bye. I’ll tell your dad that I’m out of your life. You can try to get to D-1 ball on your own, but I get the feeling there’s a lot you can learn about the game.”
“Ok, deal. I’m gonna love this.” Stefani took her cell phone from her sweats pocket and called Bonita, who picked up after one ring. Stefani turned up the volume. “Doctor J.? Oh, I'll beat him today and twice tomorrow.” Bonita laughed through the tiny speaker.
“He thinks he’ll beat you,” Stefani said.
“Uh huh. Tell him to bring his game. I’ll send him home crying.”
“She’s in,” Stefani said, then hung up. “Can’t wait to see what she does to you.”
Jay opened the Mini’s passenger door and held it open for Stefani. She dropped her basketball in the back seat.
"Let’s go, ‘Coach’. Haven’t got all day,” she said, as she buckled up.
Looking out the windshield Jay rolled his eyes and started the ignition. He fiddled with the radio until he found the music station he wanted. The right music always psyched him out to play against a better player.
Stefani tapped her fingers against the passenger door and stared out the car window watching as the Gettysburg businesses best known to the tourists—ghost tour operators, t-shirt shops, souvenir vendors—some open, some closed for the off-season—rolled by.