Episode 3: Under Grey Skies
January 4th – 8th
(BLOG entry in Italics)
There is a place in New York called Grand Central Terminal, it was originally called Grand Central Station in an early formation. It is one of the two main railroad stations in New York City and became a common comment when things are busy. "Hello Grand Central." It makes you feel you are at the crossroads of the world which are only a few blocks down 42nd Street. Anyways, enough ranting here. From my bedroom, in my house, in my small town, I wonder if sometimes if we're not a crossroads to something or just a station on the line. Comment your thoughts below.
Raven Hussar
T3 Collective
Chapter 101: Grand Central Terminal
Wednesday, January 4th, Morning
As train rides into New York City go, this one sucks. It happened during rush hour so the Metro-North train car was overflowing. Normally, when she when into the city, she's us a car service, but not today. Things had to be down on the down-low.
So, instead of dressing nice for this meeting, she wore jeans, an old battered baggy stretched out blue t-shirt that had a faded logo of what they called in the Navy the Trident. She had an opened button-down shirt over the t-shirt. A simple black down coat, which she took off for the train ride, and a black knit cap covering her dirty blonde hair, finished her ensemble. When she got aboard the train, she was also wearing sunglasses, Chastity Davis Specials, but she removed them as they entered the final tunnel into the Terminal.
Leaning back, she let the dying brightness wash away and accepted the darkness coming from the outside. This wasn't her first trip into New York City by train, she reflected, and it probably won't be her last. She closed her eyes and let the feel of the ride relax her.
Once the train stopped, she heard the doors open and the crowd shuffle for their stuff and then the door. Once the noise died down, she opened her eyes and sat up. Collecting her coat, she slipped it back on. Next, she picked up her backpack, slipped it on, and walked off the train and into the industrial underbelly of Grand Central Terminal. With careful ease, she walked to the end of the platform and onto the ramp which leads to one of the concourses. The food stands were open, as were a few of the newsstands, but none of that was for her. Climbing up one of the main stairs cases she found herself on the Main Concourse.
Stepping aside, as to not block foot traffic, she reached into her pocket and retrieved her sunglasses. She donned her Chastity Davis Specials and took the Main Concourse in. Everything from the refined architecture to the brilliant ceiling, to the blight of the Apple Store on the balcony. After taking a deep breath she checked her watch, it was almost time.
Meetings like this weren't routine, but they were normal enough. Angela Scott took in another deep breath and contemplated the New York City smells. Each Boro smelled different, and playing in Brooklyn just added to that thought.
Taking one last deep breath she headed south and out to East 42nd Street. Looking around, she checked the traffic and crossed East 42nd Street into Pershing Square and the Pershing Square Café.
Once inside she removed her sunglasses and looked over the café. She finds Clay Evans, her agent, sitting at a table. Quickly explaining why she was there, they let her in and removing her backpack and jacket, she hung them on the back of her chair. Finally, she took a seat across from Clay. Finally, she removed her knit cap and quickly combed out her hair with her fingers.
"So, who knows you're here?" Clay asked.
Angela smiled, just a bit, "Just My Mom, my daughter, the maid, the UBER Driver, and whoever was on the train, Clay," she said.
"Not funny, Angela, this is serious business," Clay said.
"I know, but you've been acting like the CIA is spying on us," Angela said.
"It wouldn't be the CIA," Clay said.
"On yeah, then which part of the alphabet would it be?" Angela asked.
"It would be the NSA," Clay said.
Angela nodded, "Fine you got me there," she said, and took the menu and looked it over.
"I knew I would," Clay said.
"Fine," Angela said.
"So, are we going to order?" Clay asked.
Angela smiled, "But of course," she said, "I didn't eat in Greenwich."
The waiter came over. Clay looked up at him.
"I'll have farm fresh egg whites, wheat toast, home fries, and coffee black," Clay said.
"Very well, sir," The waiter said, and turned to Angela, "And you Ma'am?"
"I'll have the New Yorker, over easy, wheat toast, home fries, and Coffee," Angela said.
"Yes Ma'am," The Waiter said and left.
Clay looked at Angela, "Hungry?" he asked.
"Yes, and considering I'm paying for it, I might as well get my monies worth," Angela said.
Clay chuckled, "I see," he said.
"So, what brought about this clandestine meeting?" Angela said.
"How do you like playing at Barclay's Center?" Clay asked.
"It's okay, been there a few years, and it allows me to be around my daughter and get her into a good school," Angela said.
Clay nodded, "You're a free agent," he pointed out.
"Yes, and you're supposed to be negotiating my next contract," Angela replied.
"How would you react if I said ditch the Barclay's and go to where there are fond memories of you and playing there?" Clay asked.
"I'm not going back to Atlanta, Clay," Angela said.
"Not Atlanta," Clay said.
"Did Caprice come back with an opening at UCONN? If there's a coaching slot there I'd retired today for that job," Angela said.
Clay shook his head, "No, nothing from UCONN," he said.
"Then where, Tree Hill?" Angela asked.
"No," Clay said, "Uncasville."
"The Sun? They're interested in me?" Angela asked.
Clay nodded, "They contacted me about talking to you. It seems their new coach wants to bring you in as part of a shore up or rebuilding," he said.
"Really Clay, from one alright team to another?" Angela asked.
"Well, they want to know if you're interested. Also, it's the same state you live in and you won't have to change Jessi's school," Clay said.
"No, matter where I went Jessi wasn't changing schools," Angela said, "I'd hate myself, but she wasn't changing schools this year," Angela said.
"Understandable," Clay said.
"Where else have you heard from?" Angela asked.
"Vegas, Chicago, and of course Atlanta wants you back," Clay said.
Angela sighed, "I'm going on an eight-day trip tomorrow, then I'm heading to Washington, DC with Jessi," she said.
"When will you be back?" Clay asked.
"The seventeenth," Angela said.
Clay nodded, "I can arrange a meeting with them when you come back," he said.
"Are you so sure I should go play for The Sun?" Angela asked.
"Angela, you could always say no," Clay said.
Angela sighed, as the waiter brought their breakfast. After looking it over, she dug into her breakfast. She needed to think about this idea, and she knew if she ate, Clay wouldn't ask her.
Clay slowly ate his food, watching Angela carefully. He was patient if he was anything. Slowly, he would sip his coffee in-between bites.
Finally, Angela put her silverware down and looked at Clay. "You want my answer today, don't you?" she asked.
Clay nodded, "It would be nice," he said.
Angela sighed, "I'll meet with them, but before I also want to know what the New York offer is," she said.
"I can do that," Clay said.
Angela nodded and turned back to her breakfast. Clay did the same. Once they were done, Angela paid the bill and slipped her jacket back on, and pulled out her knit cap. Pulling on her cap she looked at Clay. Grabbing her backpack and coat.
"I'll see you when I get back," Angela said.
"What are you going to be doing for the rest of the day?" Clay asked.
"I have a few hours before I have to catch the train," Angela said.
"So, what are you doing with your time?" Clay asked.
Angela shrugged, "I think, I'm going to Time Square and see what's going on," she said, slipping on her coat.
"Nothing as usual," Clay said.
Angela shrugged, "We shall see," she said, slipped on her Chastity Davis Specials and walked out of the Pershing Square Café, slinging her backpack on.