by Tara Sue Me
“Elliott?” she asks.
There’s no way this woman is Kara. Not breezing in here like nothing’s wrong when she’s an hour and a half late.
“Yes,” I say, and then because there is no other viable explanation, ask, “Kara?”
She nods. “Are you leaving?”
I’m telling myself to hold it together and not jump to conclusions because she does look a bit confused. Maybe she has some sort of disorder or something.
“I was,” I admit. “I’ve been waiting an hour and a half.”
“Why have you been here that long?" She looks at her watch. "I'm early as it is.”
I'm trying to see how she thinks this. “What?”
“Oh no,” she says. “The game starts in twenty minutes, doesn't it?”
“Yes.”
She closes her eyes. “I am so sorry. I thought we were meeting then and that the game started later. That certainly explains why the attendant at the gas station looked at me funny." She shakes her head. “You should have called me.”
Is she serious? “I did,” I tell her. “Multiple times.”
She digs in her purse and pulls out her phone. “No missed calls.” She turns it to face me and sure enough the screen is blank.
I pull out my own phone to prove to myself I'm not making this up. There in my history are the calls I made to her. I hold the phone out. She gasps and covers her mouth with her hand.
“That's my landline, not my cell.” She looks horrified as she realizes everything. "I'm so sorry.”
It’s a mixup , I repeat to keep myself calm. They happen all the time and I bet in the distant future, Darcy and I will laugh ourselves silly over this one. But it’s not happening today.
“It’s okay,” I tell Kara. “Mistakes happen.”
“Though usually not so many at one time.”
“True.” But no need to dwell on it. I hold out my hand. “Elliott Taber. So good to finally meet you. Darcy speaks very highly of you.”
She returns the handshake and I’m pleasantly surprised to discover her grip is strong. “I could say the same for you.” She has a beautiful smile and I’m looking forward to seeing more of it tonight.
“What do you think, Kara?” I ask her. “Should we try to make it to the game? We’ll probably be able to see the second half.”
“I’d like that,” she says. “Can you believe I’ve lived here my entire life and haven’t made it to one professional game?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Of football?”
She shakes her head. “No, not of anything.”
I suppose it’s because I’m so heavily involved in sports that I find this hard to believe. “Baseball?” I ask, and she shakes her head. I try with several other sports, but she only laughs and repeats, “No.”
Darcy asked if she enjoyed sports and Kara admitted to both watching and playing several. Interesting that she’s never been to a pro game, especially with Atlanta having so many teams.
I smile because it’s going to fun watching her expression as she takes everything in for the first time. It’s a shame she messed the time up because I’d have enjoyed showing her around the stadium before kickoff. I calculate when our dinner reservations are to see if we could explore after the game, but unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll have time.
I open my car door for her and we head out in the nightmare on wheels known as Atlanta traffic. The drive to the stadium isn’t unpleasant. I ask Kara a few questions about her work, and she’s enthusiastic in her responses and also asks me several things about what I do.
We have a nice chat.
Kara is a nice woman.
It’s boring as hell.
It’s not that I want a bad girl. It’s not that I don’t like to talk about my job. It’s that I want so much more than to be in a nice relationship with a nice woman and to have a nice life. I want fire and passion and heated debates and being there for someone no matter what.
I don’t doubt that I could settle down with Kara. I would probably be mostly happy. I would do everything in my power to make her happy. But at the end of the day, it wouldn’t be the right thing to do because my heart wouldn’t be hers. It wouldn’t be fair to Kara. She can’t help that she isn’t Darcy.
We’re almost to the stadium and I tell myself I’m an idiot for thinking the way I am about a woman I just met. Seriously, what does it say that I’ve already mapped our entire future, other than I’m an idiot?
Beside me, Kara is talking animatedly about her older brother, who lives in North Carolina and recently took his son to a football game there.
“He’s going to be so jealous when I tell him about this,” she says, her smile growing bigger the closer we get.
Likewise, I start to feel calmer as we approach our destination. I’m allowed to have a fun date with a nice woman. It doesn’t mean I have to marry her. We’ll spend a pleasant afternoon together and have a delicious dinner and call it a night.
I park and help Kara out of the car. We make our way to the entrance closest to where our seats are. As we walk, I tell her a few little known facts about the stadium.
It feels as if the date that had started out so badly is redeeming itself when the man working the gate looks at me and says, “I can’t let you in with these tickets, sir.”
Chapter Nine: Darcy
“A man’s true wealth is the good he does in this world.” Muhammad
We are only about a quarter of the way through passing out the sandwiches when I get that crawly neck feeling that I’m being watched. I try to ignore it and when that doesn’t work, I tell myself that it’s because I’m with Tate and he’s so hot or that it’s because of the fact we’re the only ones passing out food.
We stop to drink some of the bottled water Tate has stashed in his car and that’s when a young woman who looks like she might be in college approaches us.
“I support what you’re doing,” she says. “But you should know, I got a ticket for doing the same thing last week. You might want to stay away from the police.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anything so stupid in my life. “Are you serious? You got a ticket for giving food to people who don’t have any?” I'm not sure what it says about our city that they would make such a law. It seems so cold and harsh. I look over to Tate, but he doesn't seem shocked at all.
He catches me looking. “It's an old law and it’s been on the books forever, they just never enforced it before. I didn't know they started.” He thanks the young woman and she walks away. He turns to me. “Want to leave?”
“Are you kidding? No way.” I throw my empty bottle away, ready to pass out more. “I only wish we had more to give out.”
“I knew I made the right decision,” he says, taking a step toward me and for some reason, I feel like taking one back. I don’t, but I’m shocked at my reaction to him moving in on my personal space. If I knew it wouldn’t make me look as if I had a few screws loose, I’d smack myself. Because honestly, what’s my problem?
Fortunately, Tate isn’t picking up on my inner turmoil, but he doesn’t move any closer either. “Shall we go break a few laws?”
I pat the sandwiches left in my bag. “Only the ones that need breaking and shouldn’t have been made in the first place.”
We’re down to out last dozen or so sandwiches when I notice the cop watching us.
“Trouble. Three o’clock.” My head is down so the cop doesn't see or hear me.
Tate sighs. “And to think we'd almost made it.”
“What are you going to do?” I don't mind getting a ticket. In fact, part of me would love to get one just so I could show up in court and make a statement or something about how stupid this law is.
However, I have no desire to do anything that might land me in jail. That is not how I want this date to end. “You aren't going to do anything to get arrested are you?” I ask him, keeping an eye on the uniformed man now headed our way.
“I certainly don't plan to.” He lifts his he
ad and faces the officer. “Good afternoon, sir. Would you like a sandwich? Just a little way for me to show my thanks for all you do to help keep Atlanta safe for all her citizens.”
“Thank you, but no,” he says. “I don’t want a sandwich and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you and your lady friend here to stop handing them out.”
The police officer is an older man, probably not far from retirement and I’m sure he has a partner somewhere, but at the moment, I only see him.
“Is there a problem with us handing out sandwiches?” Tate asks. “You’ll have to excuse me for not knowing. I’m only in town for the day, I’m from up near Tallulah Falls.”
“You have to have a permit to hand out food to the homeless.” The officer crosses his arms. “Handing out food is not a long term solution and all it does is create a mess the city has to deal with.”
Tate nods and looks quizzical as if he’s taking all this in. “I guess that makes sense if you look at it that way.”
The officer swells in victory. “I thought so, too. You two move along then.”
I get the feeling he’s not moving until we do. And Tate isn’t about to walk away.
Sure enough, Tate taps his chin. “There’s only one thing wrong with the city’s long term plan.”
“What’s that?”
“These people are hungry today.”
“That’s what the shelters are for.”
The police officer may think he’s won, but I can tell Tate isn’t about to give up.
“I tell you what,” Tate says and I can’t help but notice their discussion is starting to draw a crowd. At the moment it’s hard to know if this is a good thing or not. “If you can guarantee me that the people we haven’t given a sandwich to yet will eat something tonight, my lady friend and I will leave.”
The crowd around us mummers in what I hope is approval.
“But if you can’t.” Tate shakes his head. “Don’t ask me to turn my back and walk away. Not when I have in my hand something that could sustain them a little while longer.”
There’s the sound of gentle applause from behind me, and while Tate has the approval of our audience, the reddened face of the police officer tells us he doesn’t feel the same. I have a bad feeling about this, and though everyone appears calm at the moment, I’m afraid it wouldn’t take much for that to change.
Before the police officer can say anything, someone shouts, “You tell him, Tommy!” and the murmurs grow louder and people press closer. Tate doesn’t say anything, but it’s not too long until everyone realizes who he is. The officer knows who he is, eventually, but he’s too good at his job to show any sort of amazement.
I’m a bit stunned there is as much excitement over Tate. I mean, it wasn’t too long ago I could only find the vaguest of mentions of him online.
“Tommy Maddox?” the officer asks.
“Yes, sir,” Tate replies. “But I don’t expect any sort of preferential treatment. And I go by ‘Tate’ now.”
“Well, Tate Maddox,” he says, but before he can get anything else out, he’s interrupted by a middle aged woman wearing an apron.
“Officer Johnson?” she asks, pushing the crowd around us until she’s at my elbow. She’s a tiny thing. Based on her voice and how people move out of her way, I expect her to be taller than the barely five feet she appears.
“Yes, Maggie,” Officer Johnson replies, but the tiny woman is now facing Tate.
“My boy, Anderson, loved to watch you play. He always said you were the real deal.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Tate is smiling, but it’s an uneasy smile, and I can’t help but to wonder if he’s uncomfortable with all the attention.
“We lost him two years ago,” Maggie continues. “In the Middle East. He was a Marine.”
Tate’s expression softens. “I’m sorry for your loss and, if I might say so, Anderson was the real deal.”
Maggie nods, the slightest hint of tears in her eyes. “I’d hate for you and your date to get in any trouble when you’re only trying to help.” Maggie points to Officer Johnson. “Likewise, I’d hate for Officer Johnson to get into trouble when he’s only trying to do his job.” She leans forward and Tate and I do the same, expecting her to whisper. Instead, no one has trouble hearing her next words. “You know you don’t necessarily have to agree with a law to enforce it.”
“Maggie,” Officer Johnson warns.
Maggie waves at him. “Hush, you.”
I glance at Officer Johnson just long enough to see him roll his eyes, but when he looks at her again, I can see he doesn’t mind her at all. In fact, he looks a bit like a lovesick puppy. I catch Tate’s eyes and clearly, he has seen it as well because he’s grinning from ear to ear.
“As it turns out,” Maggie says, and it’s not my imagination that her cheeks are pinker than they were a few seconds ago. “I manage the soup kitchen right over there.”
Tate and I look to where she’s pointing and you can’t miss the large covered area with a line of people waiting to get in.
“If you’ll hand me what you have left,” Maggie says. “I’ll ensure the sandwiches are given to some boys who will be thrilled to hear you made them.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Tate gives her that show stopping grin. “I truly appreciate you doing that.”
“Of course,” she continues as if he hadn’t said anything. “It’d really make their day if you were to hand it to them yourself.”
I giggle and try to hide it with a cough, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work. I can’t help it, though. I really like this Maggie.
Tate looks at me and lifts an eyebrow. I’m guessing he’s asking if I mind stopping by the soup kitchen. If we do there’s a chance we could miss our dinner reservations. We both brought extra clothes to change into and time for that needs to be factored into our plans. The thing is, though, I’d rather watch Tate talk baseball with a group of young boys. I take his hand. “Let’s go do it.”
A few people in the crowd clap, but most of them start to leave. Maggie says for us to wait a minute and she’ll walk us over. She takes Officer Johnson by the elbow and walks him a few steps away and out of hearing range.
The remaining crowd disperses and a handful pass by us to exchange a few words with Tate.
“Thank you,” Tate says to me when the last of the crowd has left and Maggie’s walking our way. I don’t say anything, but I’m not sure why he’s thanking me. I should be the one thanking him. Today is turning out to be completely unlike any date I’ve ever been on, but I’m enjoying it whole lot more as well.
Chapter Ten: Elliott
“Failed relationships can be described as so much wasted make-up.” Marian Keyes
We end up at a sport’s bar nearby after three people at the stadium verify my tickets are fake. I’m fairly livid because I got them from a coworker who was unable to attend the game. I had assumed he was a season ticket holder, but he’s not answering his phone.
“Don’t worry about it.” Kara puts her hand on my arm when I disconnect the call after getting his voicemail again.
She looks miserable and it’s only a guess, but I’m pretty sure she won’t be telling her brother about this after all. I can’t help but think that if she had been on time, we might have been able to grab a few vacant seats. Of course, by the time we’d shown up, the game was in the second half and everything had been sold.
I put my phone down with a sigh. She’s right. There’s nothing to be done today, I’ll deal with it on Monday.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, because I feel responsible for the bad tickets.
“There’s no way you could have known,” she says, but her attempts to make me feel better don’t work. I should have known. Somehow.
Neither one of us have been watching the game, but the bar is packed and suddenly everyone is chanting, clapping, and yelling. We both look up to the screen closest to us, just in time to watch an Atlanta player make a seeming impossible touchdown to win the g
ame.
And for the man standing near Kara to forget he’s holding a beer, so when he throws his hands up in victory, she is doused in his choice of brew.
* * *
It’s not funny, but I have to bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh. Kara is in the passenger seat beside me and even though she ducked into the bathroom at the sports bar, the inside of my car smells like a brewery.
She’s asked for me to take her back to her car. I simply nodded because of course she doesn’t want to go out to dinner smelling like a drunk and looking as if she’s bathed in her favorite brew. I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever had a date go as badly as this one has, but I can’t think of one. This has been, without question, the worst date I’ve ever been on. I’ll make sure to thank Darcy tomorrow.
I exit off the interstate and wonder how Darcy’s date with Tate is going. Surely there’s no way it could possibly be as bad as this one. Granted, Kara’s nice enough, but the two of us together seem doomed. Even now, she’s sitting in the car, staring out the window and not saying anything. I should break the silence and say something, but I have no idea what to say.
I had a great time, obviously isn’t going to work and based on her expression, I have a feeling that if I tell her I’d like to see her again, she might strike me dead with her eyes alone. I’m getting ready say to At least no one ended up in the hospital or got arrested , when I make a turn and see a police barricade straight ahead. I would laugh, but I have a bad feeling one of us is going to end up in jail before the night’s over.
From all appearances, I think it’s only a routine license check, but with the way this date has gone, you never know. I pull the car’s registration and my driver’s license, so I’m all prepared by the time I pull up to the uniformed man and roll my window down.
“Good evening, sir,” I say, handing him the two documents.
He only looks at them briefly before turning his attention back to me. “Have you been drinking, Mr. Taber?”
