Chapter 6

Game Three

At first, it appeared that game three was going to go the way of the other two games: high scoring, back and forth, but with Phoenix seemingly controlling much of the action.

In fact, in the first quarter, Dallas only managed 22 points, which while not horrible, isn't typically enough versus a run-and-gun team like Phoenix, which averages 27 points per quarter over the entire year, and almost always has at least one quarter in the 30 point range, often two.

Because of the Suns and how proficient they are at scoring, I felt lucky to only be behind by three points at the start of the second quarter.

"That was too close," said Sandra, who still had the scent of the whipped cream on her, even if she had managed to clean it all of, or at least cover it up with the shirt she had worn to my apartment. "Nash needs to take over the game! He did it all year, why not in the playoffs?"

"There's time," I said, bemoaning that very fact. Steve Nash had been having an up-and-down series, not so much in how he moved the ball around (he was averaging almost 14 assists per game), but in his scoring. In the game one victory, Nash had 27 points, but in the game two loss, he had been held to 16 points, and only one made basket in the entire second half.

"Yeah, but Steve needs to get it in gear," stressed Sandra. She was chewing on a fingernail, a nervous habit I had noticed during the second half of game one, but hadn't commented on.

"I have clippers if you need them," I offered.

"Huh?" Sandra asked, never taking her eyes off the television. She gave a small "yes," as Boris Diaw dunked home a blocked shot then turned to me. "What?"

"I said, I have fingernail clippers if you want."

"What for?" asked Sandra, her words almost obscured by the finger stuck between her teeth.

"For this," I said. I reached over and grabbed the hand and held the finger in front of her face.

"Oh," said Sandra. She jerked the hand away and put it in her lap. "I'm fine. I always do this when I'm nervous."

"So you are worried about this," I said. "Or are you nervous about what I'm going to do to you before game four when the Mavericks win tonight?"

"The game. Who cares about your punishments. I'm not nervous about those at all."

"Hmm... maybe I'll have to invite a few friends over to watch the game," I mused out loud.

"Whatever," Sandra replied, not really paying attention to me. She pumped her fist a couple times as - midway through the quarter - Tim Thomas canned a three point shot followed half a minute later by a little jumper from Nash and then another three pointer from Thomas.

"Guard the guy!" I yelled. The lead was nine points with about six to go in the half. Avery called a time out to try and calm down the Mavericks, but I was still worried. The last few minutes of the first half had not been good for Dallas. In the first game, Phoenix ended with a huge run, then did the same in game two. I noticed Sandra wasn't chewing her nails any longer.

Things looked to be a little more under control after the time out, as Jason Terry came back and nailed a littler runner in the lane, but then Phoenix kept doing what it does best. Run and shoot. Diaw hit a jumper, then Shawn Marion drove the lane for a layup. Jason Terry and Devin Harris tried to keep pace, but was hitting his stride. After assisting on two of the recent baskets, Nash decided to start scoring and hit two quick buckets. Suddenly Dallas was behind by eleven.

Surprisingly, Phoenix called the next time out, when Marion picked up his second foul of the first half. I figured D'Antoni would take him out for the last two minutes, to keep him from picking up his third foul, but he came back when the timeout was over. And Dallas hung in there. Terry hit a jumper, then Jerry Stackhouse made one of two free throws, to shave the lead down to eight points.

I was thinking that perhaps Dallas would go on a little run when Josh Howard showed his immaturity and threw Tim Thomas down to the floor as he was driving the lane.

"Flagrant!" shouted Sandra. "He should be kicked out of the game for that."

I laughed. "Hardly. That was nothing like Raja Bell's foul. There... look at the replay. All he did was grab him on the arm as Thomas flew by. Heck, if Thomas hadn't fallen down like that, it might not even have been a flagrant."

Still, it was called a flagrant one foul, so Phoenix shot two free throws and kept the ball, which made me nervous. If Thomas made both free throws, which he did, and Phoenix got a three-pointer, the lead could suddenly be up to thirteen points, and the hometown Phoenix fans would go nuts. That could spell disaster for Dallas.

But then Dallas hunkered down on defense. Phoenix missed its last four shots of the half and coupled with a Jason Terry steal and a couple of nice baskets, Dallas managed to trim the halftime deficit to only five points.

"Well, that certainly wasn't the best half of basketball I've ever seen," I commented as the coverage went back to the studio. I turned down the volume, not really wanting to hear what the guys had to say.

"You guys played well, though," Sandra said - albeit a bit grudgingly. I nodded and smiled.

"Thanks. So did you. Nash really picked it up in the second quarter."

"He better," Sandra admitted. "Or we're sunk."

"Then you're all mine on Tuesday," I said, more than likely crowing a bit. Sandra shot me a dirty look, but didn't say anything. After a bit, however, she did ask a question I'd been sort of expecting, since it is one that comes up from time to time.

"How'd you get into the law?"

I sighed. "That's kind of a sad story," I said.

"Oh. I'm sorry, then forget..."

"No, no... it's fine. It's just sad. When I was eleven years old my uncle went to prison."

"Oh no!"

"Yeah. Only the thing is, he was innocent."

I think Sandra probably wanted to roll her eyes. "I hear that every day," was what she finally said. I nodded in agreement.

I know I usually hear the same thing. "I'm sure this is true for you prosecutors as well, but after meeting a client for the first time, the sentence I hear most often is "I didn't do it." And like with a drunk driver client I have, it doesn't really matter what the evidence shows."

"I'm not sure I should be hearing this," Sandra said. I waved her off.

"It's okay. We've already had a preliminary hearing. The case belongs to Jake Hubbard."

"Ugh. That creep?"

"And you've only been on the job a week," I laughed. "You don't like him already? I mean, not many of us do, but still... so soon?"

"First thing I did once I was moved into my office was go around and introduce myself. Pretty much everyone was nice. Jarvis, Lou, Mary..."

"Mary's a riot," I laughed. "Her husband is kind of quiet, but still... he's an okay guy as well."

"Caleb? Mary's talked about him a little..."

"More than I've ever gotten out of her. She's kind of tight-lipped about her home life."

"I don't think she's talking to her folks," Sandra said.

"She told you this? You've been here a week! I've known her for three years."

"I'm a woman, buster, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, I noticed. I definitely noticed. And don't act all coy about it... you noticed that I noticed." I glanced down at my lap, which was thankfully your typical, non-erection type at the moment.

Sandra just grinned. "But seriously, we went out for coffee on Thursday."

"You tell her about... us?" I asked.

"Us?" asked Sandra, her eyebrow arched. I flailed for a bit before Sandra let me off the hook. "Oh... our bet, you mean?"

"Yes." I rolled my eyes.

"I did."

"What?"

"I didn't name you by name," Sandra said.

"Thank goodness."

"But I might have let slip that you had a great... um..."

"Yes?" I asked, secretly hoping I knew where this was going.

"Cock. I told her you had a nice cock."

"Such a potty mouth," I chided. "Just hearing you talk like that makes me want to..."