by Gina LaManna
“It’s a shirt. Your shirt, specifically.”
“Why does it say Balls of Fury on it?”
“Because!” Clay turned positively gleeful. “You are the brand new captain of the Balls of Fury bowling team.”
“No. I have no interest in bowling balls, fury, or any combination of the two”
“Well, you will turn interested if you want to befriend The Zebra.”
“How do you figure?”
“The location Bob found? It’s a bowling alley—Zebra Lanes. Your man Zebra runs it, and he bowls in a co-ed league on Wednesday’s. If you show up and beat him, he’ll have respect for you.”
“There are so many problems with this. First of all, I don’t have a team, and even if I did, we couldn’t get a spot in the league.”
“Well, maybe Bob couldn’t have gotten you a spot, but I did,” Clay said. “Tomorrow at three. Stop by and pick up the shirts on your way.”
“I can’t bowl. I mean, I need bumpers.”
“You can’t be that bad.”
“My high score last time was eleven.”
“Eleven... what?”
“Eleven. Basta. That’s it.”
“Lacey!” An appalled Clay shouted into the phone. “You have to try to be that horrible. A child could bowl more than that, and the balls weigh as much as they do.”
“Thanks, but my horribleness at bowling comes naturally.”
“Well, I got you the opportunity, but I’m not a magical genie,” Clay said. “The rest is up to you. Find four other players and grab your shirts tomorrow. Otherwise, you’re on your own with The Zebra.”
“Hold on one second.” I put my hand over the phone and looked around at the group. “Who’s free tomorrow at three? I need a bowling team.”
Four hands inched their way up as Meg pulled Patty into the driveway of the estate.
“Great,” I said to them all. “You’re hired. Welcome to Balls of Fury.”
Chapter 13
“Those look fabulous.” Clay stepped back the next morning and admired his handiwork. “You can thank me whenever you’re ready.”
I turned to find my reflection in the window, searching in vain for the fabulousness that Clay had described. After a night of solid sleep and a shower—and one very concerned Anthony—I felt a lot better than I had on the bachelorette boat yesterday. Or at least I had, until I’d popped over to my old apartment to acquire the jerseys for our new bowling league.
Now I felt like vomiting all over again. These things were ugly. Forest green, scratchy, sizes that came like packing boxes. Large, XL, and XXL—all in the shape of squares.
Not to mention, the name. Written in Old English-style scripted lettering the size of my arm were the words “Balls of Fury” straight across the chest. Underneath was the image of a bowling ball skidding down a lane and pins flying everywhere.
“These are...” I swallowed, searching for the right words. “So unique.”
“That’s right, one of a kind,” Clay agreed. “Came up with them all by myself.”
“False,” Bob the Robot interrupted. Bob had taken a seat on a couch with his legs crossed. The little square that was his head turned toward me. “Clay asked for my assistance in developing a name for your team.”
“You picked this name out?” I whirled on Bob. “Thanks a lot.”
“You are very welcome,” he intoned. “I searched top one hundred lists of bowling names, and this was number one.”
“Of what, the list of worst bowling names?” I shook my head. “We’re a team of all women.”
“I apologize if you are not happy,” Bob said. “I can search again if you would like.”
“No, forget it,” I said, then turned the balls of fury design at my cousin. “If you’re trying to steal Bob’s ideas, at least make sure they’re good ones.”
“I thought it was clever.”
“Your grandmother is on this team!” I gestured to the words across my chest. “Nora will be wearing this with me. So will your girlfriend. And your best friend.”
“Who’s my best friend?” Clay suspiciously glanced toward Bob. Then back toward me, which is where he caught the look of shock and annoyance. “Oh, you. Right. You’re my best friend, but really, you’re my cousin.”
“Thank you for the effort,” I said, reaching down and swiping up the five t-shirts. “I may seem ungrateful, but I do appreciate you helping us.”
“Anytime,” Clay said. “Before you go, I have a tip for you.”
“Oh?”
“The object of bowling is to hit the pins,” Clay said. “Not to throw it down the gutter.”
“Thanks a lot. That was never the confusing part.”
“How does one get eleven as a bowling score?”
“We’ll play sometime, and I’ll happily show you.”
“Be careful when you go today,” Clay said. “Are you telling Anthony about your visit?”
I hesitated a second too long.
“If you don’t tell him, I will,” Clay said. “I swear. He told me that if I send you somewhere dangerous and don’t let him know before hand, he’ll...” Clay reddened, and then nodded. “Never mind. But it’s worse than death.”
“I’ll tell him,” I mumbled.
“Lacey!” Clay yelled after me. “You promised!”
I had sort of promised, but that didn’t mean I knew exactly how to broach the subject to Anthony, especially after the warnings he’d already given me. I couldn’t imagine he’d be thrilled with my new sporting endeavor.
I parked at Casa Luzzi, grabbed the jerseys, and climbed from the car. Before I could take two steps toward the door, Alessandra appeared, startling me as she laid a hand on my shoulder from behind.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I didn’t see you there.” I laughed weakly, and ran a hand over my forehead. “How are you?”
She gave a shadow of a smile. Her shiny brunette locks were pulled into a ponytail, and her normally perfected face was bare of all makeup. Though still stunning, she looked different. Almost hollow, a shell of her former self.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m glad I caught you, though. I won’t be able to make it bowling today. I’m really sorry.”
I shifted the shirts to my shoulder and did my best to look nonchalant. “No problem. Did your hot date reschedule?”
At this, she cringed.
“Oh, no! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have said anything. Ignore me.”
“No, no. It’s okay—it’s not your fault I’m like this.”
“Like what?” I grasped one of her wrists with my hands, held on until she looked at me. “Listen, I’m worried about you. Really worried. Can we talk for a minute?”
“What’s there to talk about?” She ran her other hand through her ponytail. “I flew in early to meet a guy for a date. It didn’t work out, end of story.”
“When you flew in, you were so excited, and happy. The Alessandra that I’ve known for almost a year now.” I dropped her hand. “Please try not to be so upset over one date. He’s the one missing out, I promise.”
Her voice was a raspy whisper. “Okay.”
“You don’t believe me?”
She offered a tight smile. “I liked him.”
“How’d you meet him?”
“Forget it, you’re right. I shouldn’t be so torn up about a date. Anyway, I’m sorry again about bowling.”
“Wait!”
She waved as she slid into Carlos’s proffered vehicle and pretended she hadn’t heard me yelling one foot from her head.
I got the picture. Maybe I didn’t get the full picture, but I understood that she wasn’t ready to talk. The squeal of her tires against the asphalt was a clear sign that my instincts were correct.
Maybe it was time to bring in the big guns. If anyone had a chance of getting through to her, it’d be her brother. Maybe she’d talk to him. Whether Anthony would talk back was an entirely different issue
. At least it’d be a start.
I’d barely taken three steps when another hand clasped my shoulder, startling me for the second time since I’d arrived. If I wanted to be serious about this security business, I should probably be more attentive.
“Hey, doll,” the familiar voice drawled. “Are you feeling okay?”
I had no choice but to yo-yo back to Anthony, seeing as his finger was hooked into the back loop of my jeans. Jeans, as opposed to my usual stretchy pants, because that’s what I suspected professional bowlers wore for their games.
“Oh! Anthony. Hello, fancy seeing you here!” I peeked up at him, cringing at the look on his face. I’d botched the greeting. He’d be immediately suspicious. Especially when he noticed the Balls of Fury logo across my chest. “What brings you around?”
“What brings me around...” Anthony hesitated, keeping his finger locked tight in my belt loop. “To my place of employment?”
“Yeah! I mean. It’s Wednesday. And we’re getting married, so maybe you were wanting to take time off, rest, get a spa day, and...fine. I can’t keep secrets. Yes, I’m sneaking around, and you caught me.”
“I wouldn’t call this sneaking,” Anthony said. “Generally sneaking involves not getting caught.”
“Yeah, well, you always catch me.”
Anthony’s eyebrow rose. “And that is why they pay me the big bucks. Everyone understand, boys?”
I closed my eyes for a long second, not incredibly anxious to see who he was referring to as boys. Instead, I pretended nobody else existed, and I sunk into Anthony’s chest, opening my eyes only once they were shielded by the fabric of his shirt.
“Lesson for the day, never try to pull the wool over my eyes.” Anthony gently peeled me off him and maneuvered my body around, coming to rest with one arm over my shoulder. “Lacey, meet the new recruits. They’ll be helping out and learning the ropes while we’re away. Gentlemen, meet my wife, Lacey.”
“Soon to be!” I stuck my finger up and leaned forward. “We’re getting married this weekend.”
Seven faces stared back at me, none of them smiling. Apparently, there was a rule against hiring men who knew how to smile.
“Well, anyway,” I said, my face turning red as the new recruits stood there stone-faced. “I should be going and will leave you to your training. Best of luck to you all.”
“Not so fast.” Anthony’s arm cinched tighter around my waist.
I tried to walk away, very fast, but it still didn’t work. I just sort of folded in half until Anthony righted me, and then spun me back to face him.
“I’m curious,” he said, lazily dragging his eyes down my figure. “What inspired this choice of clothing?”
He stared extra-long at my chest, and I was just about to scold him when I realized he wasn’t actually looking at my curves, he was looking at the words dancing over them.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, Clay. He picked these out.”
“And you voluntarily put it on?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Honey, that’s what you always say.”
“Do you, um...think we could speak in private?” I cast a pointed glance over at the seven recruits standing at attention. “You know, alone?”
“Take a break,” Anthony barked. “Meet back here in five.”
I hesitated as the young men digested the order to scram. “I don’t think they know how to take a break.”
Seven faces stared back at us. They’d taken a grand total of two steps backward.
Anthony rolled his eyes, grabbed my hand, and pulled me behind the huge oak tree sprawling over the front lawn, muttering about no common sense.
“Do you think, um, maybe you scared them a little?” I asked. “You know, just judging by the fact that none of them are talking, smiling, or otherwise relaxing.”
“We’re not paying them to relax.”
“How long have you been training them?”
“Three months. They needed to be ready by the time we left.”
“Right, and in those three months, you don’t think you might’ve frightened them a little bit?”
“What’d you want to talk about?” Anthony’s dark eyes flashed, locking on my shirt first, and then my face. “And how did Clay get you to wear that shirt?”
“Well, he signed us up for a bowling league.”
“Clay hates all sports. Balls. Pucks. Bats. He hates anything to do with athletic ability.”
“Right. And I mostly am not great at sports, either.”
“Babe, you took me bowling once and scored an eleven.”
“I was rusty!”
“You complained the whole time. Why would you voluntarily sign up for a bowling league?”
“Girl bonding. You know, Nora and Meg and Vivian and me.”
Anthony cursed. He rarely cursed on the job.
“What’s so bad about that?” I asked.
He put a hand over his forehead. “I’m just imagining the destruction that’ll follow when someone puts a bowling ball in your hands. Then multiply it by four. Your shirt should really say The Wrecking Balls.”
“Hey!” My first instinct was to be offended. But as I digested his words, I backed off and tapped my lip with a finger. “You know, that’s actually not too shabby.”
Anthony’s eyes closed. “You’re missing the point.”
“We’re just trying new things,” I said. “This month is bowling.”
“I thought you said it was a league?”
“It is, but we’ll probably only play once. One game, or match, or...whatever.”
Anthony’s hands came down to my hips. They circled around my waist, and we both stopped talking for a moment. My breaths accelerated as he backed me up against the tree. Thank goodness for the fat oak tree trunk, or the recruits would have a show.
When my back hit bark, he stopped moving. We stood that way, and I couldn’t tell if he was trying to intimidate me, or make out with me. Probably the latter, seeing as any chance of sexiness last night had been destroyed by my bacon evacuation techniques.
“Where are you going, sugar?” He emphasized the last word, as if balancing it on the edge of a sword. “Be honest.”
“I’m going bowling.”
“Why?” His thumb flicked over my stomach and sent hot flashes through my body. Leaning closer to me, he murmured some encouragement for me to tell the truth.
It made me really hot and bothered and frustrated. “Fine! I’m going to Zebra Lanes.”
This time, the glint of onyx in Anthony’s eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anything but frustration. “Why are you going there?”
“I got a lead. I think it could be connected to Beckett’s death.”
“I thought I asked you not to go near this case.”
“Beckett was our friend and now he’s dead. He didn’t just happen to die in our town, in our wedding spot at random, and you know that as well as I do.”
“I’m looking into it,” Anthony said. “I told you I would take care of it.”
“You haven’t been keeping me posted!”
“I will keep you posted when I have something to keep you posted about.”
“I can’t just sit around and do nothing,” I said, feeling my lip quiver. I hesitated, stilling my emotions before continuing. “It’s just not fair.”
Anthony’s hand came up to hold my cheek, his thumb tracing over my lips. “It’s not fair, and if it’s true that he didn’t kill himself, we’ll find out who did this to him. We can’t rule out all the possibilities.”
“I know someone did this to him!”
“That’s an emotional reaction, Lace. You don’t know it for a fact. We have to assume every outcome is valid.”
I shrunk back against the tree. “You can’t look at everything all factual and unbiased.”
“Sure I can.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t,” I said. “Sometimes, you just know things. There are too many coincidences, and thing
s aren’t adding up.”
“Lacey.”
“I’m going bowling. Sorry,” I said, slipping out from underneath his arms. “Don’t worry, I have people with me. I’ll be careful.”
“Your grandmother and an ex-cop?”
“And Vivian.”
Anthony stood stock still. “You’re proving my point.”
I waved a hand in his direction. “You’ll probably track me anyway.”
“Come here.”
His voice was commanding, firm, and on most occasions, it would annoy me to have someone tell me what to do. But this was different. I didn’t want to fight with Anthony, and especially not over this. So, I went to him.
“I love you.” He folded me into his fresh, delicious scent, and I let my arms slide around his waist. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. Or hide things from me.”
“I know, but you wouldn’t let me go if I told you.”
“No, but I also know I can’t stop you. Which worries me because I’m familiar with the Zebra’s work, and I know what goes on in there. I’m sending someone along. You won’t even know they’re there.”
“But—”
“Please don’t argue. I’d go myself, but I know you don’t want me there.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you there,” I mumbled against his chest. “It’s just that you’d stick out like a sore thumb. You don’t exactly scream bowling league material.”
Anthony threw his head back and laughed. “That’s the best compliment you’ve paid me all month.”
A grudging smile turned my lips upward. “Maybe if you got some high socks and snazzy shoes, I could see it.”
Anthony’s hug tightened another notch. Finally, I tapped him on the shoulder. He eased up, but didn’t let go.
Instead, his hands shifted to either side of my face and pulled me in for a deep, almost aggressive kiss. Warm tingles shot straight to my toes, and the world around me faded to black. I didn’t care how many fresh-faced recruits were watching; in that moment, it was just Anthony, me, and tonsil hockey. I knew my sports when I wanted to.
When he finally pulled away, he gave me that rare, gorgeous smile, and slipped his hand back into mine. “Glad we got that sorted out.”
