Love After Hours

by Radclyffe

  Gina leaned back against the metal siding, watching the trucks pull in at the end of their shifts, the heat of the sheet metal penetrating through her T-shirt. Soccer and a military career were part of those distant memories. Funny, it’d taken her a few years, but she’d gotten to like the work she’d been forced into by default. She liked running crews, she liked watching buildings rise out of pits in the ground. She had no medals to show for her labors, but she hoped she made her father a little bit proud all the same.

  She wasn’t about to make him happy today, though.

  He pulled through the chain-link fence in his battered black Ford pickup truck, the one he’d been driving for a decade at least. He parked beside the trailer, climbed out slowly, and rubbed his face with both hands. He looked much the same as he had all the years of her growing up, but she’d just begun to notice his hair was gray now instead of black, his step was a little slower, and the lines around his mouth a little deeper. The realization that time moved on tightened her stomach.

  Tom Antonelli narrowed his eyes and lasered in on her.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Gina,” he said briskly, straightening up and striding toward her. “Read me in on the details.”

  She smiled to herself. Once a Marine sergeant, always a Marine sergeant. Growing up, she and the other kids had heard all about his time in the military, before he’d mustered out to raise a family and start a business. He’d never been unfairly hard on them, but he’d demanded their best, and they’d all wanted to give it. They all still did. She straightened and only just resisted standing at attention.

  He stopped in front of her and planted his big hands on his hips, his gaze sharp and not the least tired looking now.

  “The short and sweet of it,” Gina said, “is we don’t have the permits to start the job at the Rivers. The fine print for the township requires we get documentation from the state about some of our labor coverage.”

  His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Our fault?”

  “No, sir,” she said, covering Angie’s butt, not because Angie had done anything wrong, but someone had to be responsible and it shouldn’t be her. “It’s not the norm, and the hospital signed off on all the paperwork. Nobody over there followed up on permits, and we had no reason to.”

  “Did you put a boot to someone’s butt over there?”

  Gina briefly thought of Ms. Longmire’s shapely butt and almost smiled. A boot was the last thing that image conjured in her mind. “Yes, sir. We’ve got someone working on it in administration—talking to their legal people—and I’ve already filled Angie in. We’ll be coming at it from both flanks.”

  He nodded. “What about the boys in your crew? You have them redeployed?”

  “I talked to Vince, and he can use all of them over at the NAPA site. Hopefully, it won’t be that long a wait.” Gina shrugged. “I’ll fill in for Vince when he’s off-site.”

  Her father shook his head. “You’re gonna be wasted over there.”

  “Maybe so, but I figure I can make myself useful—”

  “I’ve got an idea to keep you busy for a few days. Something your brother mentioned to me.”

  Gina froze. Her father didn’t have ideas, he had orders. “Sir?”

  “You know, there’s another big contract in the wind for the hospital.”

  “Yes, sir, I’m aware of that. A helipad.”

  “Yeah, and everyone wants in on that one.” Tom put a work boot up on the corrugated metal stair and leaned an arm on his knee, almost as if standing up straight was an effort. “Apparently one of the people over there who will be reviewing the bids is friends with Joe’s boss down in the ER.”

  “I’m not following,” Gina said carefully.

  “A little goodwill tour to buy us some positive PR when it comes bid time.”

  PR? Goodwill? What the hell? The hair on the back of Gina’s neck bristled. Whatever this was couldn’t be good.

  *****

  Margie stopped outside room 520 and tapped on the open door.

  “Hello?” Blake answered quietly.

  “It’s me,” Margie said without stepping inside. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable if he wasn’t ready to see her yet.

  “Hey, come on in.”

  Blake sat on the edge of his bed in navy sweatpants and a zip-up gray sweatshirt open partly down his chest. A swath of beige bandage showed just below his collarbones. He was pale, but he was smiling.

  Relief flooding her, Margie stopped a few feet away and, not knowing what to do with her hands, slid them into the back pockets of her jeans. “Your mom texted me and said you were ready to go. She said I could come up.”

  “I told her to find you,” Blake said. “You could’ve come up sooner, but I was kinda out of it for a while, and I didn’t really want you to see me while I was drooling.”

  Margie laughed. “Um, I’ve seen you drool before, you know. You always fall asleep when we watch movies, remember?”

  “Yeah, but I never drool.”

  “Maybe I just don’t tell you about it.”

  He laughed and stopped abruptly. “Ouch.”

  “What?” Margie’s heart raced. “Should I get your mom?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s just if I move too quickly or take a really deep breath, it hurts.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “Not really. My chest mostly feels numb, but a couple places burn, you know, like when you get road rash from falling off your bike.”

  Margie grimaced at the thought of road rash on her chest. Her leg was bad enough. “That sounds nasty.”

  Blake shrugged in slow motion. “Honestly, it’s about what I expected. I mean, it’s hard to define pain, you know? So I wasn’t really sure what it would be like, but it’s not so bad.”

  “I’m glad.” Margie swayed from side to side a little, hesitating over getting too personal. That was weird. They talked about everything, but everyone had their private places. She did too. They were best friends because they were careful with those places. “So, has Flann been in since surgery?”

  “She stopped by to see me and Mom just a little while ago.”

  “Ah. That’s good. I saw her too, right after surgery.” Margie paused, then settled for, “She said you did good.”

  Blake’s smile returned, brighter and wider. “She told us it went even better than she hoped. That my chest contour looks really good after surgery.”

  Margie let out a long breath. “That’s great. I’m glad it’s going to be what you want.”

  Blake searched her face. “You’re still cool with it, right?”

  “Totally,” Margie said instantly. He didn’t look quite convinced. “I know you, and you’ll be you no matter what kind of body you’re in, but I totally understand wanting to feel like everything matches the way it should. It’s about who you are when you’re alone with yourself, right?”

  Blake visibly relaxed and Margie sighed inwardly.

  “For the longest time,” Blake said quietly, “I didn’t want to be alone with myself. I felt like I was living with a stranger. Since I started transitioning, that’s been a lot better. And you know what’s really helped almost as much as all the physical stuff?”

  “What?”

  “You.”

  Margie tugged on her lip, waiting until she was sure her voice wouldn’t shake. “Well, I think you’re special. Even when you drool.”

  Blake laughed. “Yeah? Well, same goes.”

  Relieved the hard stuff was out of the way, Margie said, “So, are you going to have to stay in the house for a while?”

  “Flann says I can walk around tomorrow as much as I want, as long as I’m not lifting anything. No driving, either.”

  “Bummer on the no driving.”

  “Really,” Blake said.

  Abby said from the doorway, “You’ll just have to suck it up for a week, buddy. Flann will have your head if you undo all her great work.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Blake said.
“I’m going to be the model patient.”

  “Uh-huh,” Abby said. “I give you twenty-four hours before you start moaning about being bored.”

  “How can I be bored if Margie keeps me company every day?”

  Margie laughed. “I promise to be as entertaining as possible.”

  Blake carefully slid off the side of the bed and didn’t even resist when Abby pressed a hand to the small of his back.

  “You okay?” Abby murmured.

  “Yeah. Mostly super tired.”

  “The car’s down front,” Abby said. “I just have to sign some papers with the nurses. You two go ahead.”

  Blake walked slowly with Margie at his side. “I don’t really expect you to hang out with me. There’s no point in both of us being bored.”

  “Well, I’m going to be by every day,” Margie said. “If you can walk around tomorrow, we can at least go out for something to eat. I’ll drive.”

  Blake grinned. “Oh yeah, you’re on.”

  Margie hurried ahead and pushed the button for the elevator, making sure the door stayed open while Blake stepped inside. She stood protectively between him and the rest of the people in the car as they descended.

  When the doors opened, she whispered, “Okay? You want me to get a wheelchair or something?”

  “I’d really like it if you pushed me around the parking lot in a wheelchair.” Blake grinned. “But I don’t need one. I’m okay as long as we go slow.”

  Margie figured they’d already crossed all of the sensitive lines and asked the next big question. “So when are you going to let me see?”

  “You want to?”

  “Well, yeah.” Margie rolled her eyes at him.

  “How about after all the stitches and stuff are out?”

  “Sure, whenever you’re ready.” Margie held open the door.

  “I don’t think I’m going to be one of those guys who documents every day on YouTube. I’m really glad some of them did, but…I don’t know…I guess I’m just not the get-naked-in-front-of-people kinda guy.”

  Margie laughed. “No kidding. I won’t mind if you’re not broadcasting everything to the world at large, anyhow.”

  “Okay then.” Blake grinned. “I’m good with that.”

  “Yeah,” Margie said, “me too.”

  Abby came up behind them and unlocked the car. “Blake, you ride in front. Margie—you coming with us?”

  Margie shook her head. “I have to get home and help out with supper. There’s a game tonight, and Mama will want to go too.”

  “I don’t know how I forgot that,” Abby said. “Flann said to tell everyone she’s heading over to the field after she finishes rounds.”

  “You can go too, Mom,” Blake said, sliding gingerly into the front seat. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Abby ruffled his hair and did up his seat belt for him. “Good thing, since I’m no babysitter. But I think I’ll stay home anyhow.”

  Blake leaned his head back and smiled at Margie. “Tell Flann to kick a—butt.”

  “I’ll call later and tell you all about it.” Margie waved as Abby drove away and sprinted around to the visitors’ lot for the truck she’d inherited from Flann. Heading for home, she put the windows down and turned the radio on. The retro songs were staticky, but she sang along. Blake was fine and the big game was two hours away. The day was turning out to be perfect.

  Chapter Six

  “I want to talk to you. Where are you?” Gina sat in her truck in the narrow pathway between her house and the neighboring pasture fence with the engine idling, one leg out the open door on the running board, wondering if the steam coming out of her ears would fog up the windshield. Considering it was ninety outside, maybe not. Might set something on fire, though. “And if you’re getting ready for your hot date, you’ll just have to wait a little longer to get—”

  “Whoa, Firecracker.” Joe laughed. “My date is for after my game tonight. What’s got your fuse lit?”

  Gina wasn’t amused by the childhood nickname or her brother’s attempt to dampen her irritation with teasing. She’d been looking for a target for her frustration all day, and he’d painted a big old bull’s-eye right in the middle of his own forehead. “How about that half-baked job you talked Dad into palming off on me, for starters? PR, my aching ass.”

  “Ooh, swear words now. I was just getting ready to head over to the field. How about I give you a call tomorrow?”

  Joe chuckled, his good humor amping up her temperature. She was seriously PO’d and wanted to be taken seriously. “How about I meet you over there and twist off some body parts.”

  “What exactly are you in a snit about?”

  “I’m not in the Marines,” Gina said, stating the painfully obvious, “and for that matter, neither are you anymore. You can’t volunteer me for jobs.”

  “I didn’t exactly volunteer you,” he said. “I just suggested it would get us some goodwill, you know, professionally speaking, if we used some of our downtime to help out the people we wanted to impress. You know, for future contracts.”

  “Impress.” Gina slammed her door, shifted into reverse, and backed out into the lane that passed in front of her house and circled the very edge of town before joining a bigger county road and heading east. The two-story white clapboard house with its wide porch and gabled roof had been her mother’s mother’s family home, and Gina had played in the broad front yard and surrounding fields as a child. She hadn’t hesitated to move in when she’d learned the house had come to her in lieu of any other inheritance. Home meant more to her than money. She still qualified to be in the same zip code as the village, and she could walk the mile and a half to the center of town or pretty much anywhere else in the village with a little more effort. “Who exactly are we supposed to be impressing? And don’t tell me it’s some girl you’re trying to get to go out with you.”

  “I don’t need any help in that department.” His car engine revved in the background. “But my boss’s friend needs a helping hand, and the two of them pull a lot of weight around the place.”

  Gina set her phone in the hands-free holder and pulled out behind the school bus making the last run of the day. She squinted in the glare of the slanting sun and ground her teeth. “Maybe you should stick to medicine and leave the building business to the rest of us.”

  “If I say yes, will you forgive me?”

  “Verdict’s out till I see the job.” Gina shook her head, trying not to smile. “I’ll see you at the field.”

  “Coming to check out the competition, huh?”

  “That was my plan originally. Now I’m coming to hurt you.”

  He laughed again. “Dream on.”

  “Stop talking and drive. Idiot.” Gina disconnected to the sound of Joe laughing and switched off her phone. Sometimes, Joe’s devil-may-care attitude grated on her. Especially when his easygoing ideas had an impact on her life. Not that anything she said to him was going to change anything now, not once her father had decided on a course of action. The deal was done, so she might as well accept it.

  A night of watching a good softball game while checking out the competition would be the highlight of her day. Joe had just joined the hospital team a few weeks earlier when his rotation in the ER started, so she hadn’t seen what kind of team he really had. He’d asked her to come pretty much every game, but she knew what that would mean. Joe introducing her to his friends and trying to get her to go out with everyone after the game. He wasn’t very subtle about his matchmaking, either, and occasionally embarrassed her.

  She didn’t need more friends. And she didn’t need her brother setting up dates for her, either. But this was softball, and softball was serious business. To hear him talk, his team was unbeatable. But then, her team was in a different league and she knew they were unbeatable.

  Gina reached the big grassy plateau in ten minutes and parked at one end of the cleared lot next to a long line of SUVs, pickup trucks, and the occasional muscle car. She climbed o
ut, locked up, and headed over to the field. Houlihan’s was in the field taking batting practice. Houlihan’s Tavern was a popular place for burgers and beers on a nearby lake, and their team had played in their league until five years ago when they switched to a different division. They had a rep for being super hard-core and prided themselves on being willing to risk body parts to steal a base or beat a throw to home. They were usually at the top of the leaderboard, but she’d heard they’d recently lost one of their two best pitchers when he’d moved downstate, and they were struggling because of it.

  Hitting and fielding were always important, but pitching was key. If you didn’t have a pitcher who could put it across the plate, you were going to be in deep trouble.

  She sauntered over to the fence behind the backstop and hooked a finger through the wire, watching Houlihan’s starting pitcher, a heavy-lifter-looking guy with curly black hair down to his shoulders and arms corded with muscle, lob easy balls to his teammates, who took casual swings and smacked the floaters into the outfield. Fielders in green shirts with Houlihan’s scripted across the front in white ambled to get them and tossed them back in. The whole team looked relaxed, but she suspected that was all just an act.

  The Rivers team congregated on the bench to her left, waiting for their turn to warm up. This year’s uniform consisted of maroon shirts with The Rivers blocked on the front in navy, numbers on the back, and black baseball pants. She searched for Joe although she didn’t plan on accosting him about his meddling in her life until after the game. Warm-up time was sacrosanct. Time to focus and get into the zone. The hospital team looked roughly evenly divided between men and women, about like her team. According to Joe, they fielded the strongest hitters and the best pitchers in the league. Of course, her team wasn’t in this league, so she didn’t bother to argue with him.