Serious Potential

by Maggie Cummings

  “Nope. Just yourselves.”

  *

  Meg couldn’t keep the huge smile from spreading as she threw her glove and bat into her bag. The field was almost empty and she needed to hustle home and get ready for company. She shuffled along the dirt field pondering thoughts of Reina’s full red lips.

  “Meg.”

  She recognized the voice one second before she looked up to see Sasha Michaels lingering by the third-base line.

  “Lexi told me you had a game. I was hoping we could talk.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.”

  “Can you just listen to me, then?”

  Meg stood still and said nothing, feeling the muscles in her stomach tighten.

  “Please. Just hear me out. I’ve been giving things a lot of thought.” Sasha kicked the dirt around with her foot. “You and Tracy and your friends…you guys have all been out, or at least known who you are for a long time. It’s still new to me. I know you don’t get that.” Her voice was pleading and it made Meg’s heart hurt. “I can’t explain it. It’s just how it is,” Sasha continued. “I feel like I don’t fit anywhere. Maybe because of everything that happened this year—with work, my mom. You. It all just felt”—she put her hands in the pockets of her jeans and looked up at the darkening sky—“a little overwhelming.”

  “Look, Sash, you don’t owe me—”

  “I do, Meg. I do owe you.”

  Meg lifted her bag higher on her shoulder and waited.

  “Meg, I am so sorry.” She brushed the hair away from her face. “About Scott.” She shook her head. “It was stupid. I was drunk.” She folded her arms in front of her. “It didn’t mean anything. I was scared.” She shrugged in defeat. “Of what, I’m not even sure.” When she tilted her head back, her voice hitched. “I can’t take it back. But God, I wish I could.” Sasha looked right at her and her eyes looked sad as hell. “Meg, please—”

  Meg put her hand up. “Don’t, Sash.” She watched Sasha wipe at her face. “The thing is…I’ve actually been through this already. I’ve dated the person who’s not sure they want to be with me.” She looked off to the side, feeling vulnerable at her admission. “You’re right. I am ready to be in a relationship. And you’re not. And that’s okay. It’s totally valid. But this”—she pointed first to Sasha, then at herself—“I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.” She turned to home plate and swallowed hard, keeping her emotions from coming out. “All the up and down. It’s too much.”

  Deep inside, Meg knew this conversation didn’t change anything. It couldn’t. Better to keep it short. “I have to go. I have people coming over.”

  She moved past Sasha, careful not to touch her or make the slightest eye contact because in spite of her brave words, Meg couldn’t shake the deep sense of loss she felt as she headed off the field to her house.

  *

  Meg’s small deck packed with friends and neighbors quickly. She broke out some chips and salsa, fired up the grill, lit the tiki torches. She refused to think at all about her brief interaction with Sasha, instead focusing on the small crowd. She flitted from group to group making sure everyone had a drink. It wasn’t long before she realized Allison Smith, who’d tagged along with Jesse and Lexi, might have already had one too many.

  She had initially been surprised to see Allison at the game, but back at her house, Meg was part of a three-way conversation with her and Jesse where she got the dirt that Allison was just out of an intense winter-long relationship. She briefed Meg on the details of her breakup, then asked, “So, where is Tracy Allen?” Allison took an unnecessary sip of her wine as she looked around. “I thought she still lived with you.”

  “She does,” Meg answered, looking at her watch. “I thought she’d be home by now, but I’m sure she’s on her way.”

  “Good.” Allison wiggled her eyebrows. “I want another turn on that.”

  Meg furrowed her brow at the statement. Even though she wasn’t entirely sure what exactly that comment meant, she felt like she should say something. “You know she’s with Betsy now, right?” At Allison’s surprised expression, Meg tried for casual. “Yeah, they’ve been dating since January.”

  “Oh my God, I had no idea.”

  “See what happens when you hibernate,” Jesse added with a laugh.

  Allison shrugged good-naturedly and downed half of her drink. “Good for Betsy.” She smirked. “Honestly, I have no idea what she’s like as a girlfriend, but I can tell you this. In the bedroom”—she smacked her lips—“completely unmatched.”

  Meg made sure to control her surprise, averting her eyes as she searched the deck for Betsy, hoping she wasn’t in earshot. She made a quick mental note to grab Tracy the second she arrived and give her the heads up that Allison was a) on the prowl and b) chatting freely about whatever had happened between them, an event Meg could only guess Tracy would not be so forthcoming about, considering even she was completely in the dark.

  For the next half hour Meg stayed alert, but she got tied up in conversation with Rose and Teddy, who expressed regrets on behalf of Reina, who wasn’t able to make it after all. Meg was bummed, but she played it off even though she couldn’t imagine what had changed since the softball field. She swallowed her slight hopes, staying upbeat and chatting with her neighbors. A few minutes into the conversation, she saw Allison talking to Betsy at the edge of the deck and panicked a little, realizing she should have been monitoring the possibility of that interaction more closely in light of the dish she’d just been privy to. She raced over to them, but it was too late, Allison was already talking.

  “I just heard about you and Tracy,” she slurred.

  “Yeah.” Betsy smiled. She reached out for Allison’s arm. “And, Al, sorry about you and the pastry chef,” Betsy offered sincerely. “I heard it didn’t work out.”

  “She was a bitch.” Allison waved her off. “Truthfully, I think I’m more upset you’ve snagged Tracy off the market. I wouldn’t have minded another go around with her.” She was probably too drunk to assess Betsy’s flat expression as she continued. “You are one lucky girl, Bets.” She finished the last of her wine and held up her empty glass in a weird kind of post drink toast. “Seriously, I don’t think I have ever come that hard. Not before, not since,” she added with a loud laugh and a slight stumble.

  Meg was close enough to see the tears in Betsy’s eyes and the muscles tighten as she clenched her jaw. She watched Betsy force a smile and excuse herself, walking right past Tracy who, of course, arrived at that precise moment.

  Meg pulled her friend aside and filled her in on what she had missed, offering Tracy her car but not her driving services since she’d already had a couple of drinks. Tracy declined, admitting she was pretty tipsy herself, and told Meg she was just going to walk to Betsy’s house, figuring the time it took her to get there might give Betsy a chance to cool down.

  Meg returned to her party and her oblivious guests, still reeling from what she had seen unfold.

  *

  Three hours later, when she had just finished wiping down the kitchen countertop and was about to head upstairs to bed, Tracy walked in.

  “How’d it go?” Meg asked, reaching for a cold beer and holding it out to Tracy.

  Tracy scrunched up her nose at the offering. She shifted her eyes to a bottle on the counter, a generous gift from one of the evening’s guests. “How about that Johnnie Walker?”

  Meg obliged, returning the beer to the refrigerator and reaching for her mother’s hand-me-down Waterford crystal tumblers from a high shelf in her cabinet. “Is it bad?”

  Tracy shook her head slowly, rubbing her scalp at the base of her head with both hands. “It’ll be okay.”

  “She’s pretty angry, huh?” Meg asked placing the bottle between them on the breakfast bar.

  “I guess. Mostly I think she’s just embarrassed.” Tracy filled each of their glasses two fingers high. “I think she thinks it looks like I did her wrong. But, dude, I didn’t.
I told her that. I mean nicely. Like way nicer than I’m saying it now. But, fuck, I wasn’t going to apologize.” She downed a swig before letting her glass hit the table harder than she’d meant. “Me and Betsy weren’t even together when it happened. Honestly, at the time, Betsy had just finished telling me we were never going to be together. And I didn’t even really know they were friends. I spent a lot of time with Betsy and she never once mentioned Allison.”

  Meg said, “They did go through a period where they hung out a lot.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Tracy took a sip of her drink and swallowed it roughly. “I promise you, and you know, I would never deliberately hurt anyone, least of all Betsy.”

  Meg rolled her drink between her hands. “When was it?” Meg asked, knowing Tracy wouldn’t hold back on the details. “You and Allison, I mean.”

  “December. Right before Christmas,” she answered without looking up. “The night you dropped me off at the Kitchen.”

  “No shit.” Meg nodded. Her curiosity won out. “How did it happen?”

  Tracy shrugged. “I don’t know. We ran into each other at the bar. She was surprised I wasn’t at the social. We started talking.” She chewed her lip. “Honestly, we were both looking for something with no strings. It just worked out.”

  “And that was it?”

  “That was it. We didn’t keep in touch. We never exchanged numbers. Tonight was the first time I’ve seen her since.”

  “You think Betsy will get over it?”

  “I do.” She looked at the front door. “She actually drove me back here. She kissed me when I was getting out of the car. I wanted her to come in. To stay.” She blinked slowly adding, “She wanted the night to process.” She took another hefty drink. “Dude, I didn’t even tell you what happened at my interview.”

  “Shit,” Meg said remembering. “How’d it go?”

  Tracy gave a snide laugh out of the side of her mouth. “Crazy. It wasn’t really an interview, at all. I met my friend Jeff, that’s the guy that set the whole thing up,” she explained, “at this really fancy bar in Midtown around the block from the corporate office. I get there and I think he’s going to, like, prep me for the other guy I’m supposed to be interviewing with.” She frowned. “But then this other guy joins us, another hotshot producer, Ted something. We’re talking about baseball mostly, up and comers, who we think has potential this year.” Tracy nodded. “Then Bob Balfour comes in. He’s the guy behind like a million shows on the network. I can tell by your face you have no idea who he is, but trust me, he is like a big-time sports show producer.” She thumbed her own chest. “I only recognized him because I recently looked him up. Jeff was throwing his name out there a lot the last time we were out together, so I did some research. That’s when I realized I’ve seen his name in like thousands of credits.” She shook her head, still in some kind of disbelief. “Anyway, at this point, I’m thinking two things. Number one, this place must be some hangout for the ESPN muckety-mucks, and two, I’m going to be fucking late for my interview.” She licked her lips. “I’m trying to give Jeff the eye that I should get going, when Bob Balfour says to me, Tracy Allen, I hear nothing but good things about you.” Tracy shook her head like she still couldn’t believe it.

  “That was it. They laid it all out for me. They told me the job in New York wasn’t right for me and it had gone to someone else anyway. Instead, he offered me a spot on a new show they’re putting together.”

  “What does that mean, a spot?” Meg asked.

  “He’s starting a new show.” Tracy thought for a second. “It’s like a panel show with four hosts. They discuss what’s trending in the sports world. Big wins, the teams, athletes, scandals, trades, sometimes maybe they bring on an athlete or coach to interview.” She snapped her fingers. “Like The View. Except without a bunch of ladies yapping about ridiculous nonsense no one cares about.”

  “Hey, I like The View.”

  Tracy patted Meg’s hand. “I know you do, honey.”

  “So wait, would you be on the show?”

  Tracy nodded. “Me and three guys. Two radio dudes you probably never heard of and Jack Duffield, he was the first baseman for the Yankees a few years back.”

  Meg slapped the counter. “Holy shit, Trace. This is sick.” She looked at her friend. “Wait, why aren’t you excited.”

  “There’s a catch.” She shut one eye, twisting up her face. “The job is in LA. That’s where the show tapes, that’s where they rehearse, everything.”

  Meg’s jaw dropped. “Did you tell Betsy?”

  “No.” Her mouth was a thin line. “And you can’t either.” She took a small sip of her drink and placed it down in front of her. “I just wanted to tell someone. I guess I wanted to imagine it for a second. What it might be like, you know?” She half smiled and cocked her head to the side. “It would have been fun, I think.”

  “Is there no way it could work?”

  “It’s a California thing. There’s no negotiating that.”

  “What if Betsy went with you. People do have babies in California.”

  “I know,” Tracy said. “But she loves her job here. She was just telling me the other day, she’s set up to take over her practice in a few years. And she does all of this specialty stuff, like these really complicated surgeries other doctors refer to her because she has all this trauma experience from when she was in the military. She’s so excited about it. I can’t even ask her to give that up for me.”

  Meg nodded as she listened. “Did you definitely tell them no?”

  “Basically. I said I was extremely grateful for their offer and for even being considered, but my life was in New York right now. They told me to take a few days to think about it, and I said I would. I wasn’t going to be rude, but my mind’s made up.”

  “Wow.” Meg let it soak in. “And you’re not going to tell Betsy?”

  Tracy tapped her tumbler lightly on the counter. “Not right now. She’ll only feel bad about it or try to change my mind.” She shrugged and smiled at the same time. “Listen, it would have been cool. No doubt.” She rubbed her chin considering. “But who knows, half of those programs don’t make it past a few episodes. I’ll tell her at some point down the line. I just don’t feel like arguing over it with her. I’m sure of my decision.” She held her hands up in submission. “She’s what I want.”

  Meg raised her glass. “Women. They make you do the crazy.”

  “In the best way.” Tracy clinked her glass with Meg’s.

  “Agreed.”

  *

  Up and dressed for work by seven a.m., Meg heard low voices and light laughter coming from behind Tracy’s closed bedroom door. She stopped in the kitchen to wash down two Motrin with a glass of water and smiled when she peeked out the window and saw Betsy’s car squeezed into a spot that covered half her driveway. Meg wasn’t sure if she’d come in the middle of the night or in the early light of dawn, but it didn’t matter, whatever hang-ups she’d had over the Allison situation were clearly on their way to being ancient history.

  Walking to the bus stop, Meg thought about Tracy’s job offer, shaking her head at the thought of what her friend was passing up. But as she got lost in the beautiful sunrise reflecting off the water below the bridge as she made her morning commute, she knew with absolute conviction that for the right girl, she would do the exact same thing.

  Her mind immediately went to Sasha like it always did. But today Reina’s face popped into her brain a half second later. The vision was refreshing, and it gave her hope. Meg smiled into the skyline ahead. Her future might have some potential after all.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  It was a gorgeous afternoon—warm but not humid, with a clear sky—perfect for Bay West’s first ever Pride Music Festival, an outdoor concert-slash-social that showcased various female-fronted bands, all vocal in their support of equal rights. It was the development’s effort to kick off Pride week in New York City, and judging by the presale, there was going
to be quite a crowd.

  The early part of the day focused largely on homegrown talent, but the acts grew bigger and more popular as the day wore on. At three forty-five, Tracy held Betsy’s hand lightly as they walked across the development’s grounds to the grassy hill where the stage had been set up just outside the Commons. The sound of acoustic guitar greeted them over the trees and through the clusters of women littering the campus as they made their way.

  “What time did you say CJ is going on?” Tracy asked good-naturedly.

  “I think she said around five or so,” Betsy answered, checking her watch.

  On the other side of Tracy, Meg pulled out her phone. “I have the schedule. What’s her band’s name?”

  “Spinster City.”

  “Says here they’re on at five fifteen. Plenty of time.” Meg slid her phone into her back pocket. “What are you guys drinking?” she asked, breaking for the outdoor bar as Tracy spread their blanket on the edge of the grass. “First round’s on me.”

  “Get me whatever you’re having,” Tracy said.

  “Beer good?”

  “Sure.”

  “What about you, Bets?”

  “Nothing for me, thanks.”

  “Nothing?” Meg answered with surprise.

  “Can’t.” Betsy scrunched up her nose. “I’m on call. Covering the weekend for my friend.”

  “That sucks,” Meg declared.

  Betsy frowned ruefully. “It was a good trade actually. My colleague has her sister’s bachelorette party this weekend.” She smiled optimistically. “And in return she’s on call for me when we’re all in P-town for the wedding. So it works out.” She shrugged a little. “Plus, none of her patients are expected to deliver this weekend anyway, so it should be pretty quiet. And I still get to enjoy some nice music with you guys. I’ll just probably be the only one who remembers it,” she added with a playful shift of her eyebrows.