Title: Just Wondering (19/?)
A/N: Welcome to funny mental image land, may I take your order please?
Disclaimer/Legalese: I own no one and nothing, except perhaps the drum set. I don’t know if Ms. Hammon owns the drum set or not. All players are property of themselves, their families, Cablevision and the Dolans, their friends, and any significant others they might have. If you’re connected to the WNBA, please don’t sue me; this has been done with tongue firmly planted in cheek and without any malicious, slanderous, or libelous intent whatsoever.
Summary: Singing for their rent and singing for their supper, they’re above the below and below the upper.

 

"You're a complete idiot."

"And you're not the first person to tell me that. You're not even the first to say it today. Did you have a point?"

Becky Hammon just shook her head. "Can anyone actually get past those defenses you put up, Tari?" she demanded as she set up the drum kit. "Never mind. We can try to get inside your so-called mind later. Are you ready?"

"Stupid question, Becky," Tari Phillips answered. "When have you known me not to be ready to sing?" Without further ado, and with one look back to make sure she had her backup ready, she launched into a rousing rendition of her favorite hymn. Becky leaned back on the drum set and listened.

When Tari was done, all Becky said was, "Tari, you really are a complete idiot. I wasn't sure before, but I am now. You are a *complete* idiot."

"That's now the third time you've said that in the last hour. You feel like explaining why you keep saying that, or am I going to have to play twenty questions with you?"

"Where are we, Tari?"

"Is this a trick question?" Becky just looked for patience. "All right, we're in the Herald Square station on the B, D, F, and V lines of New York City Transit. If you want me to get more specific-"

"We're in the New York City subway. How far do you really think singing church music is going to get you? Besides the fact that there's maybe three seconds in which I get to do anything, most folks really don't feel like listening to hymns. If you want the money, you do what the people want."

"So what's your suggestion?" Tari sniped. Becky told her. "And you think I'm the complete idiot? Becky, if you ever had your mind, you've lost it. You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"And you do? Trust me for once and see if I'm right. If I'm not then we do it your way. But I think my way is at least going to work better than your plan. Now, do you know the lyrics?"

"Every singer worth her salt knows the lyrics to that song."

"That wasn't the question."

"I resent that. Yes, I know the lyrics. Are you happy now?"

Without a word, Becky took out a piece of sheet music, set it somewhere in her drum set, and tapped her cymbal a couple of times as if to test it for proper ringing. Tari silently swore that she would be revenged on Becky just before she launched into the song.

"And I will always love you..."

 

Step right up!
Return to sports fiction
Return to main page