Four Play: A Collection of Novellas

by Silver, Amalie

  “Well, good! Then I don’t need to worry about that look you gave me a few minutes ago.”

  “What look?” I defended.

  “The batty eyelash thing.” He waved his hand toward my face. “The dumbstruck star-gazing thing. Like you were picturing how our children might look.”

  My mouth hung open. “Well next time you go to shake a woman’s hand, you might try to avoid molesting it. I think my thumb is still feeling a strange orgasmic aftershock.”

  He laughed and looked down, shaking his head.

  “Nolan March?” A nurse called from the doors. We both looked toward the ER doors and I saw her holding a clipboard.

  He continued to laugh, and stood to walk toward her.

  Dammit if I didn’t catch myself staring at his ass.

  And it was stupidly beautiful.

  He turned back just before entering the secured door. “Nice to meet you.” His eyebrow lifted. “Jack.”

  Chapter 3

  I had several things on my “to do” list that week, which included getting Lou—my 1981 Ford Fairmont—an oil change, stopping by admissions to make sure my summer schedule was all lined up, and I’d promised Wanda we’d go out for lunch.

  With softball taking up much of my time during the spring, I’d gotten used to a lighter schoolwork load and doubled up on my courses during the summer. That meant that I couldn’t spend as much time with my family back home—as I’d only have a two-week break in the fall just before the semester began.

  A lot was riding on this season. No one was guaranteed a starting spot on the team, and we all had to continue proving our worth. Most of us had scholarships, and wouldn’t be able to attend the university if it wasn’t for financial aid.

  I sat in my car snapping my gum, waiting in line at the Jiffy Lube on campus, looking over the next week’s batting lineup. Lilah’s knee was shot, and she’d be out for the rest of the season—which meant we’d have to pull Sally from the bench for the last three games.

  I pulled my gum in a long strand from my mouth, and stared at the roster. After taking off my cap to scratch my head, I put my car in drive as the line ahead of me crept forward.

  The keychain hanging from the ignition dangled, catching my attention. I played with the squishy stress ball—a miniature softball—thinking back to my previous night’s encounter with Nolan March.

  “‘I prefer my women a little…softer,’” I mocked out loud, grimacing.

  A soft tap on my window pulled me from my thoughts. When I looked up, two clear plastic gloves covered tan hands and forearms of the attendant. He held a gun-like object where a red scanning light flickered its reflection on the glass.

  I rolled down the window and gave a brief smile.

  “If I could open your door and scan your VIN next to your seat, please,” he mumbled.

  Tilting my head so that I could make eye contact with him, I grabbed the handle and opened the door.

  The shock that struck me when I saw his face jolted my defenses.

  Nolan March.

  The man who didn’t find me the least bit attractive stood next to my car.

  His gray work shirt—with his name embroidered in red—was streaked with black grease. Small beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, and a shit-eating grin stretched across his cheeks as he wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.

  He crouched down beside me, keeping his eyes to mine.

  I looked away, folding my arms across my chest and cursing my heartbeat for pounding so fast.

  He stifled a laugh and shook his head. He reached out his arm, pointing his scanning gun to a spot located under my seat. The air was hot and sticky and it wafted into my car, and I suddenly felt his presence rather alarming and his proximity regretfully arousing.

  “Hey, Jack.”

  I nodded, keeping my eyes on the taillights of the car in front of me. “Hello. It was Dick, right? Your name, I mean?” A sly smile slipped.

  He laughed. “No. Nolan.”

  “Oh. That’s right,” I said, letting my smile widen.

  He bounced to a stand and adjusted the neckline on his shirt. “It shouldn’t be more than another five minutes. Is there anything I can get you while you wait?” His eyebrow shot up. “A bottle of water. A soda? Perhaps a nice dress?”

  I glared and felt my nostrils flare. I looked down at my outfit: baggy jeans, a sleeveless T-shirt, old tennis shoes. And of course, a baseball cap.

  I ignored his chauvinistic response. “I thought this was supposed to be Jiffy Lube. This is more like…” I trailed off, suddenly at a loss for the right word. “… Slow and Gradual Lube.”

  A laugh bellowed from his chest. “Ah, yes. I suppose. But that would denote a completely different kind of service that we offer here, wouldn’t it?” He continued laughing as he tapped the roof of my Fairmont. “Sit tight, Butch. You’re up next.”

  Butch.

  Butch?

  Butch!

  I waited until he turned the corner before I took several deep breaths and gripped my steering wheel.

  Anyone else would’ve seen my wrath long before this. Why I hesitated breaking his face, I couldn’t say. Instead, I sat in a half-pissed, half-pouting huff in my car.

  I’m not that butch.

  The line crept forward and the SUV ahead of me drove away. After an audible swallow, I set my foot lightly on the gas.

  Nolan stood at my ten o’clock, waving me forward. His strong hands and wrists flexed as he motioned my vehicle ahead. He kept his eyes down, watching my wheels align with the track, and once I got close enough, he motioned for me to stop.

  He approached my window while sticking a dirty rag into his back pocket.

  “How many miles are on her?”

  I glanced down at my odometer and tried to make sense of the numbers, all while feeling a rapid pulse in my neck.

  “One hundred seventy-four thousand, two hundred eleven.”

  He nodded, and typed the numbers into the computer.

  “Can you see the screen?” he asked, tilting it in my direction.

  “Yep.”

  “Is this still your address and phone number?”

  Nodding, and feeling deplorably exuberant about the fact that I would never need to volunteer that information, I sighed and scratched my temple.

  I rolled my eyes inwardly at the giddiness that had suddenly taken over my entire being. I glared at my reflection in my rearview mirror. The giggling fifteen-year-old girl inside me was jumping up and down wearing a fucking miniskirt while waving two pompoms.

  “Good. Hi, Jack.” He winked. “My name is Nolan, and I’ll be underneath you today.”

  I took a sharp inhale and my eyes popped out from my head until he continued.

  “This is Johnny. And he’ll be on top.”

  I tried not to laugh, but my snicker betrayed me. Johnny nodded and I watched as Nolan jogged down the steps, laughing at my facial expression.

  “Hello, Jacqueline. I’m Johnny. I’m going to have you turn your high beams on, and we’re going to check your blinkers, tires, and fluids.”

  I nodded and completely blocked him out. The acute awareness that Nolan was now underneath me had given my lady bits a jolt; precariousness bounced in my gut, and lightheadedness clogged my mind.

  I was no longer concerned about my classes for the summer. And I don’t think I thought about my lunch date with Wanda once. Moreover, I didn’t care about the roster for next week’s game.

  This was very bad.

  I’d heard Johnny shouting numbers like, “One forty-nine please!” and “What about one-oh-ones? Check Bay Two!” With the loud oil-dispensing machine and tools being dropped to the floor, I couldn’t hear Nolan’s responses to Johnny’s number codes.

  Minutes later, Nolan jogged back up the steps. He still had a smile on his face, and the rag in his back pocket was dirtier than before.

  After removing his plastic gloves, Nolan motioned for me to start my car and leaned down underneat
h my hood. I could barely make out what he was doing, but I could see his hands moving over different fluid caps from the small slit of open view I had with my hood up.

  He took out the long metal dipstick from its casing and wiped it with a cloth. Slowly—and I believed somewhat deliberately—he eased the stick back in to get the proper measurement.

  I could imagine the smirk on his face when he was doing it.

  I clenched my thighs together, cursing them for betraying me. Whatever his intentions, I was two minutes away from dry-humping my cup holder.

  I tried to keep my expression neutral as he came to my window.

  “Your oil is filled to the line there. See it?” he asked, looking me dead in the eyes.

  “Yep.” I smiled and quickly went for my purse to find my cash card.

  “But we have a problem.”

  I slouched and my heart picked up tempo. “Problem?”

  “Your radiator fluid was overfilled when you came in today.”

  “What does that mean?”

  A corner of his mouth perked up as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “It means I’m going to have to get you back in here soon. You’ll be driving one very stressed out car, and the last thing you need to worry about is her exploding from all the tension.” He leaned in and rested his arms on the edge of my open window. “Would you like to set up a time…” he eyed me up and down, “for me to flush out your fluid?”

  I bit my tongue and tried to keep a terse line with my mouth. From nowhere, my sultry voice echoed in my own ears. “How much is that?”

  For fuck’s sake! What’s going on with me? What just happened to my voice?

  “One hundred and twenty,” he responded, and looked back at the computer.

  I was satisfied he was no longer invading the shrinking bubble that was my personal space, but I also wanted a reason to invite him back into it.

  “I can’t afford that right now. Is my car really going to explode?” I asked nervously, thankful that my tone was much more innocent than flirty.

  “Nah,” he laughed. “I was giving you shit. You’ll be fine.”

  I sighed in relief and handed Nolan my card. He handed me a clipboard and had me sign the slip.

  “Anything else we can do for you today, Jack?”

  I shook my head and tugged at my bottom lip. “No thanks.”

  He kept his eyes on my lips a little longer than he should have.

  I drove away completely thrilled with the idea that perhaps—just perhaps—Nolan March was starting to think I wasn’t just another one of the guys.

  Chapter 4

  Just after my slow and gradual lube encounter with Nolan, I drove to the café to meet Wanda. She was already sitting in our regular booth when I arrived.

  I plopped down into the seat and exhaled.

  “Jack?”

  I pulled my stare away from the moving trees outside the window and looked at her. “Huh?” I asked, still dazed.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “You did? Sorry, I’m a little distracted right now. What was your question?” I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “Do you think I’m pretty?” I asked abruptly.

  “What?” She scratched her forehead and narrowed her eyes. “What does you being pretty have to do with the lineup?” She shook her head. “What are we going to do about Lilah? We only have a few games left in the season, and if we want to make it to Nationals, we’re going to have to be smart—”

  “Sorry.” I pulled a sheet of paper from my purse. “I’ve already started mapping it out. Here, I think this could work.”

  Wanda looked over my notes and suggested lineup for Saturday’s games. She squinted and read it over thoroughly.

  The server brought me a cup of coffee and slice of apple pie—my usual order—and I nodded my approval.

  “What would make you think to pull the right-fielder to first base, and put Jessy at shortstop? Seems a bit risky for the amount that’s riding on the game,” Wanda said.

  I shrugged. “Paula has been asking me all season to play first base. I think she might just have something to prove. And even though Jessy won’t see as much action at shortstop as she used to, the girl is five-foot eleven and can field any ball that comes within a ten-foot radius—no matter how hard and fast the ball is coming. It’s a risk, but really, what more can we do?”

  Wanda nodded, contemplating our options. “You know, you should help coach the teams this summer at camp. The girls would love it if they could see you.”

  “I gotta concentrate on school during the summer,” I said, taking a bite of my pie.

  “I know, but I think we’d have a lot of fun! You’re already a coach—and a mother—to half the girls on that team. They all really look up to you, you know.”

  “I have a strict schedule. When I’m playing, I can’t seem to find the right balance. And with doubling up my courses in the summer, I have a feeling I know how that would turn out.” I shook my head. “I will not fail. I can’t afford to. Softball is my life, and without the scholarship to this university, the best shot at playing I’d have would be a slo-pitch community coed league.” I quirked my eyebrow. “No thanks.”

  “Just think about it. For me? Okay?” Wanda pleaded.

  I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. “Fine.”

  ***

  I’d tried to block out all thoughts of Nolan March. He’d been so distracting that I’d arrived late to practice and slept past one of my exams.

  The semester would end the next week, and the last thing I needed was to have to take an extra class to make up for a failed test.

  I’d just have to try harder to get him out of my head.

  Tuesday nights were our weekly scheduled practices. Afterward, some of the gals would go out to a local dive bar called Woody’s. We’d talk strategy, tough teams to beat, and after a few beers, half the girls would be flirting with the tattooed regulars and end up taking them home.

  I, too, had taken one home from time to time in the off season. But I never made it a habit, and never got emotionally involved. I ensured that none of them attended the college and never accepted a phone number the morning after.

  That Tuesday, we all sat around a table dressed in casual attire. Some of us still wore our cleats. Izzy kept the pitchers of beer flowing to the table, and all of us were feeling nice and warm by nine o’clock.

  “Hey!” a voice slurred from across the bar.

  My eyes shot to a patron four tables away, and while none of the girls had heard him, my senses zeroed in on the table that sat three men in their thirties.

  My smile faded and my hands balled into fists. The men continued laughing and looking over their shoulders in our direction.

  I knew trouble was coming.

  “Hey!” the scrawny one shouted again.

  That time, half the bar silenced and drew their attention to him. He stared at our table, and the customers in the bar all turned to look at us.

  Don’t do it, motherfucker. You’ll be sorry.

  “Hey! Why don’t you show me those fuzzy little beavers of yours?” he slurred again.

  While some of the women in the bar gasped, all the men chuckled.

  I snarled and my nostrils flared. All of my teammates slowly turned to face me, all stopping dead in their tracks. Their jaws hung open and their eyes widened.

  I heard Wanda murmur, “Shiiiit. Not again.”

  The man sitting on Loudmouth’s side turned to my glare with a snigger. “Careful for that one, looks like she’s got teeth!”

  The bar roared with laughter.

  My temper flared and my face heated instantly.

  Instinctively, I rose from my seat and marched toward the table with my head at a downward tilt and my eyes hooded.

  Without giving him a chance to speak, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him off his stool. He crashed to the floor with a grunt and his arms went up defensively.

  “Hey, Jack!” Woody the bartender called. “You know the rules. Tak
e it outside.”

  I smiled. “With pleasure.”

  I grabbed one of the weasel’s legs and dragged him through the door.

  The city street was quiet, but my heart was pounding in my ears.

  “Apologize!” I yelled.

  He laughed as he rose to his feet. “Gimme a break,” he muttered as his smile faded. “You can’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds, and you’re what? Five-foot two? How much damage could one little beaver do?” He licked his lips and stared at my crotch.

  I faked a laugh and looked back to the girls standing in the entrance of the bar.

  Wanda closed her eyes and covered her forehead. “Shit. Not again.”

  I turned back to Loudmouth and cocked my head to the side, removing my smirk.

  With one swift thrust, I snapped the heel of my palm upward and broke his nose instantly.

  He dropped to the ground; his blood had already begun to stain his shirt.

  “You wanted to see my Beaver? Well there you go,” I quipped. “Seems she’s got some teeth after all.”

  Wanda rolled her eyes and grabbed my hand as we walked back to my car in the parking ramp. She scolded me the whole way there.

  Chapter 5

  April 23 Game 26 82 degrees Fahrenheit

  Saturday’s game came quicker than I wanted. It was already the third inning, and we were ahead by two. We were up to bat, and I was on deck.

  “Hey, have you thought any more about summer camp?” Wanda asked.

  “Yeah, a little. We can talk about it after the game. I need to really focus on my grades right now. I missed a test last week,” I said, taking a practice swing.

  “Cool. Signup deadline is Friday.”

  I nodded and watched as Wanda took the plate.

  She stood a full three feet toward the backstop from home plate—closer to the catcher than I’d ever seen any player’s stance. She put all her weight on her back leg, and lifted the bat over her head.

  Once Wanda was comfortable, the pitcher got her signal and rounded her arm for the throw.