Just A Little Romance

by Mary Jane Russell

  “I like the sound of that.”

  Cindy laughed and handed Sam the card. “You better call. I don’t like being disappointed.” She dropped her voice.

  “I’m hoping that won’t happen anytime soon.” Sam felt as though her face was the color of her dress.

  Cindy pulled Sam close enough for a kiss on the cheek. “Call me.”

  “I will.” Sam watched Cindy walk away, then returned to her boys.

  Jake and Paul wore matching grins. Paul moved so that he bumped hips with Sam.

  “Can you teach me your technique? I’m impressed,” Jake said. “You have to let me know how that goes.” He spoke to Paul.

  “Deal. Do I get to invite you to a romantic dinner?” Paul batted his eyes.

  “Shit, no, but I’ll meet you for lunch to gossip.” Jake thumbed his nose as though tough.

  “Close enough,” Paul said.

  Sam pulled Jake toward the dance floor. “For old times sake. I’ll even let you lead.”

  “I don’t mind being a wallflower.” Paul leaned against the cinderblocks and struck his GQ pose. Two women started in his direction at the same time.

  Sam settled against Jake for a slow dance. Maybe she wasn’t all the way over the hill after all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Are you sure this is okay?” Sam asked. “I really did have something a little more romantic in mind.” She waved her program back and forth, trying to create a cool breeze. She had debated comfort with sun protection and decided on an Oxford shirt with sleeves rolled up and tailored shorts.

  Cindy chuckled. “I had free tickets to use or lose. You were a dear to give in to me so easily.” She had dressed for the sun in a tight tank top and short shorts.

  “No problem there.” Sam adjusted her butt cheeks on the narrow seat. She felt as though in a primary school auditorium. At least on the old bleacher seating she could spread out more comfortably; now spectators were packed in elbow to elbow. Of course, there were worse things than rubbing elbows with Cindy Taylor; there were also other things Sam had rather be rubbing.

  “I’m a minor league baseball junkie. I can’t believe Richmond finally has a team back in the city,” Cindy said.

  Sam looked sideways at Cindy and raised her eyebrows. “You’re proud of a Double-A team whose owners decided to call their players The Flying Squirrels? Get out of here. We’re the state capital—population of two hundred thousand, MSA over one million—and that’s the best we can come up with.”

  “You get out of here.” Cindy punched Sam in the biceps. “I voted for the name. I think it’s hilarious. Isn’t that what this is all about?” Cindy looked over her sunglasses at Sam. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She rubbed Sam’s arm.

  “Nope, I’m good.” Sam hated the squeak in her voice. She looked around the stadium. The face-lift had done wonders. The squirrel mascot was definitely a marketing bonanza for bringing the kids in. She well understood the political nightmare of unleashing the formerly known as Richmond Braves with their tomahawk logo. The finalists had been a worrisome group—Rhinos, Flatheads, Rock Hoppers, Hush Puppies, Hambones, and the nefarious Flying Squirrels. The name-the-team contest had sparked interest from six thousand entries.

  “I used to get off on watching the boys play in high school. We went to the games just to see them squirm when they tried to adjust their cups unnoticed.” Cindy giggled.

  “There’s a lovely thought, or not. I can’t talk, though. I went to the girls’ softball games for sort of the same reason—all those bouncing ponytails and jiggling breasts. It still gives me a cheap thrill when I think of you guys.” Sam closed her eyes and sighed.

  It was Cindy’s turn to look at Sam sideways. “Well, honey, it that’s all it takes, I’ll go buy a cap and do a ponytail for you.”

  Sam felt herself blush. “I’ll go for drinks. Beer okay?”

  “What else would I drink at a ball game?”

  Sam felt like an idiot as she scanned the Thirsty Acorn for a baseball cap. She couldn’t believe she was buying Budweiser, the king of the headache beers, as far as she was concerned. She turned too quickly from the counter and almost spilled both beers on the person behind her, the person who just happened to have spiky blond hair.

  “Crap. Excuse me,” Sam said as she pulled the cups toward her body.

  “My fault. I was too close. The line seems to have a mind of its own.” Lisa frowned at the men behind her, then at Sam. “Is Haley here?” Lisa looked about.

  “No. Haley is my neighbor. She’s at home with her partner. I’m here with a date who used to be a cheerleader.” Sam could kick herself for adding that.

  Lisa smirked. “Really. Still has the outfit?”

  “I haven’t found out yet. I can only hope.” Sam juggled the plastic cups to avoid spillage. “On a hot date?”

  “My sons.” Lisa begrudged the answer. “I need to get back to them to make sure they don’t ditch me. My oldest drove and kept my car keys.”

  “Enjoy.” Sam raised one cup in a salute.

  “Rah rah.” Lisa turned away.

  Sam muttered to herself as she headed toward the stands. “Well, at least she’s no longer a hundred percent sure that I’m a spousal abuser.” The closest heads turned in her direction. “Sorry.” She eased her way through the crowd.

  Cindy was on her feet cheering when Sam returned to their seats.

  “You just missed a home run,” Cindy accepted the drink and took a long swallow, “with the bases loaded.”

  “I’ve heard that before.” Sam looked around to see if Lisa’s seats were nearby.

  Cindy choked on the beer.

  “Don’t tempt me to put my arms around you in the Heimlich.” Sam mentally pulled herself back to her date.

  “You’re not helping.” Cindy sputtered the words. “You’re awfully cute and sweet.”

  They sat down. Cindy leaned into Sam’s shoulder.

  “You’re not worried about being seen and recognized?” Sam asked.

  “I always carry on like this with my BFFs.” Cindy concentrated on the next batter.

  Play reached the seventh inning with the Squirrels leading by one run.

  “Do you want another beer before the concession closes?” Sam asked.

  “No, but I need to get rid of the first. Walk with me?” Cindy dropped her voice invitingly.

  Sam didn’t know what it was about straight women and wanting to pee in pairs, but she led the way to the restroom. She was glad to have paid attention to signage when she went for the beers.

  “I can’t believe there’s not a long line,” Cindy said.

  Half the cinder block stalls were empty. They walked toward two open doors side by side.

  “Timing is everything.” Sam was now concerned with not being able to pee when she knew someone else was listening.

  Cindy followed Sam into the same stall.

  Sam was confused enough not to latch the door.

  Cindy pushed Sam against the side wall, pressing her breasts into Sam’s and leaning upward, searching for Sam’s lips.

  Sam kissed her and couldn’t stop her hands from exploring the other woman. Cindy’s breasts felt a little too perfect and perky.

  Sam tried to move Cindy away. “Wouldn’t you rather be a little more comfortable doing this?”

  “Isn’t this why you asked me out? All those years of wondering what it would be like?” Cindy breathed into Sam’s ear and onto her neck. She flicked her tongue along Sam’s jaw and began unbuttoning Sam’s shirt.

  Sam felt herself shiver.

  “This is fun. My BFFs were wrong that I couldn’t get into this.” Cindy ran her hand inside Sam’s shirt. “Nice bra.”

  “You’ve talked to them about tonight?” Sam couldn’t believe she wasn’t all over the other woman. What was wrong with her?

  “Didn’t you talk to that luscious Paul? I cannot believe he’s gay. What a waste.”

  “Excuse me?” Sam held Cindy by the wrists and forced her
to take a step back.

  “Shit. Excuse me.” Lisa stood at the door to the stall. “I couldn’t tell which was occupied without trying a door.”

  “We’re done,” Sam said, trying to button her shirt while keeping Cindy’s hands out of it at the same time.

  “No, we’re not. Find someone else to watch.” Cindy pulled Sam’s shirt tail loose of her jeans.

  Sam arched her body and sent Cindy against the opposite wall.

  “Glad to see you’re not a believer in brute force.” Lisa stared at Sam. “Public restroom groping—how romantic.”

  “Fuck off.” Cindy pushed the stall door closed and locked it.

  “Same to both of you,” Lisa said.

  Sam held the door closed as Cindy tried to follow Lisa. “Enough.”

  Cindy stared at Sam. “You haven’t changed. You’re still afraid to have fun.”

  “You haven’t changed, either.” Sam had a flashback of cliques based on wearing the right label clothes and stories of going to all the right places while making fun of anyone who didn’t. “This was just for bragging rights with your buddies, wasn’t it?”

  Cindy’s lips thinned.

  Sam listened to make sure Lisa had left the room before unlocking the door.

  “So that’s it?” Cindy stood in front of the toilet with hands on her hips.

  “Do you want a ride home?” Sam asked. “This was a huge mistake.”

  “I can find my own way home. If you change your mind, call me.” Cindy stalked out of the restroom, knowing Sam’s gaze was on her.

  “I won’t.” Sam said, following slowly. “What was my dumb ass thinking?” She glimpsed Lisa walking toward the exit with her boys. Lisa caught her eye and shook her head. Sam had to agree.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Hey,” Sam said when Paul finally answered his landline. The first time, it had rung and gone into voice mail. Sam tried again, wanting a real person and knowing that Paul’s daughter only answered her cell phone. She didn’t think this was Paul’s weekend for a visit from Angela anyway.

  “What?” Paul mumbled.

  “Hey! How you doing?” Sam stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. She needed to paint.

  “What the fuck time is it?” Paul managed a sentence.

  “You’re alone, right? I tried to check your driveway, but I can’t quite see all of it without going outdoors. I didn’t want to wake everyone up by setting the neighborhood dogs off.”

  “Aren’t you sweet?” Paul cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m alone. Angela’s hanging out with friends moving back on campus. Why am I not included with everyone else you didn’t want to wake up?”

  “It’s two thirty, by the way. Don’t you have a clock radio by your bed?” Sam looked at the holes in her T-shirt; no wonder it was so comfortable.

  “God, Sam, have you slept at all?” The bed squeaked as Paul sat up and swung his feet over the edge.

  “Damn, you ought to do something about that bed frame. Isn’t that distracting to you and Scott? It’s too high-pitched to blend in with the other sounds going on.” Sam rolled onto her side to ease the ache in her lower back. She used to be able to sleep on her stomach.

  “I know damn well you didn’t call me to discuss my bedroom furniture.”

  “Have you heard from your publisher yet? Has he looked at the new manuscript?”

  “Samantha!”

  “Ooh, you sound just like my mother used to. Freaky.”

  “Am I going to have to dress and come over there to find out what’s going on?”

  “Don’t dress on my account.”

  Paul sighed. “Sam…”

  “I had an incredibly bad date—defended your honor and decided not to lose mine.”

  “The cheerleader?”

  “Miss I-want-a-story-to-amuse-my-friends herself, and I made an ass of myself in front of the cute nurse again.” Sam huffed.

  “What else?” Paul asked.

  “I’m worried about Haley,” Sam finally admitted. “I hate feeling so damn helpless. Be a man, go over there, and beat the crap out of KD.”

  “Even if I could, which I seriously doubt, you know that wouldn’t solve anything. I feel like such a dumbass.” Paul settled against his pillows, knowing sleep was done for the night.

  “How do you mean?”

  “It’s been right there in front of us, and we’ve all tried so carefully to ignore it. Ava knew. I was aware of something not right about Haley’s financials, and that’s all I’m going to say. At least you’ve stepped up lately and actually helped.”

  “It was as though none of us wanted to be the first to actually say it aloud—Haley’s stuck in an abusive relationship.” Sam yawned.

  “Oh, no. You have me wide awake now. Don’t even think about hanging up and going back to sleep,” Paul warned her.

  “Sleep, yeah, right. I can’t stop thinking about what Haley has to live with. First, she’s in Virginia, a commonwealth that will never recognize gay rights. Then she watches her partner change and become abusive.” Sam thought of Ava and wished she smoked—at least it would be an outlet for all going on in her head.

  “Only men are abusive,” Paul quipped.

  “Lesbians are equal partners,” Sam said with a wry chuckle.

  “KD was abused as a child because she was different from other girls, so it’s not her fault.” Paul tried to sound like an obnoxious authority figure.

  “It’s easy for a lesbian to walk out of a relationship. It’s not like the women are married.” Sam caught herself looking down her nose.

  Paul laughed. “I know it’s not funny ‘ha ha,’ but collectively, aren’t we a bunch of ignoramuses?”

  “I know. Saying it aloud feels like whistling past a cemetery,” Sam said.

  “And it’s not just you girls. My favorite expression—boys will be boys, meaning if gay men are abusive, it’s just because of our normal testosterone levels.”

  “Wait, wait,” Sam interrupted Paul. “It’s because gay men sleep around and are part of the bar scene, what do they expect?” Sam howled and startled the nearest dog three houses away into barking. “Oops.”

  “It’s because gay men really like it rough.” Paul lowered his voice suggestively.

  “You’re killing me.” Sam wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.

  “She didn’t mean to.” Paul’s voice quivered.

  “Okay, enough. It’s awful for us to be carrying on this way.” Sam took a deep breath.

  “No, what’s awful is what’s going on with Haley. You needed to blow off a little.” Paul knew exactly where Sam was coming from.

  “I know.”

  “I must say that my blind eye makes me feel like such a man.” Paul’s tone was rueful. “I thought I was more sensitive to others.”

  “After my date turned into bitch slapping, I spent the rest of the evening on the Internet researching this. I found some very helpful Web sites. My favorite was on eHow, How to Help a Lesbian Abuse Victim.” Sam looked at the printout on the nightstand.

  “What do we do?”

  Sam closed her eyes. “You know, that is truly one of the many things I love about you. It’s now we.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Okay.” Sam reached for her reading glasses and the papers. “The gist of it is actually pretty much what we’ve done so far and what Ava said. Isn’t that a hoot?” Sam adjusted the position of her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “First, Haley has to admit what’s going on and talk about it. We’ve done that much.”

  “And that’s a huge step for Haley. Bravo, by the way.”

  “The next is what I think she’ll balk at—a safety plan out of the house and packed bags hidden in the house and stashed with someone else.” Sam skimmed the material again.

  “That’s smart for anyone. My mother called it her hospital bag. I have one in the bottom of my closet. I hadn’t told you?”

  “No, but I’ll remember. I ought to do the same thing.” Sam skipped the info
rmation about what to do if children were involved—thank God for that. “The last recommendation is to arrange a signal or a phrase that means call the cops or go to a meeting place.”

  “Good God.”

  “It makes sense. KD is pain waiting to happen to anyone involved,” Sam said.

  “I’m relieved to hear you say that. I have no doubt she could easily kick our collective asses.” Paul was a realist to a fault. “Let’s set up our own protection.”

  Sam sighed. Why did she feel as though she had just become one of the Hardy boys?

  Paul was not to be put off. “If either of us mentions ‘Car 54,’ it means call the police. ‘Home run’ means haul ass to the other’s house.”

  “‘Grand slam’ means the shit has hit the fan at work. All of those are simple enough to remember,” Sam said. “How in the hell do we get Haley to do the rest of this?”

  “We talk to her, individually or together, whenever we have the opportunity. Bring Ava into it. She’s sharp about things like this, and she might have the best chance to talk to Haley unnoticed by KD.”

  “As long as we don’t put Ava into harm’s way.”

  “No, I’m all about hiding behind tiny eighty-year-old Jewish women.” Paul pretended to be indignant.

  “She’s not Jewish, her husband was, and she’s only seventy-eight. She would take offense.” Sam used her best blue-hair voice.

  Paul laughed. “I stand corrected.”

  “As well you should.”

  “I hate to ask, but you know I’m going to now that the question’s in my head,” Paul said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “What type of abuse are we dealing with here?”

  “Definitely physical and likely isolation from friends. I’ve seen the psychological and emotional abuse. Haley as much as said KD was threatening to harm herself. You know about the economic abuse—I don’t want to know details. Sexual…God, who knows, and again I don’t want to if I don’t absolutely have to. Property destruction…oh, yeah, I could see that happening.” Sam was alarmed at all the checkmarks she made on the list.

  “We have no choice but to become involved in all this.” Paul made a statement, not a question.