“I’m trying not to die of a heat stroke,” I said dryly. “Why?”
He shrugged and tossed me a bottle of water. “I don’t know. It looked like you were off in la-la land. Thinking about your mayo girl?”
I shook my head as I unscrewed the cap and took a large sip of water, relishing the feeling of the cool liquid flowing down my throat. “Hell no,” I lied. “That girl is trouble. I smelled disgusting for hours afterward.”
Darren chuckled. “I hear it’s good for your hair.”
“Shut up,” I said with a grin, pushing him. I still couldn’t believe that my dream girl from the bar had pulled one over on me. Trust me to go after the one girl that wouldn’t put out. Should’ve played it safe with that widow, I mused. But Darren, like I’d expected, had reeled her in instead.
Why hadn’t I seen it coming? I should have known something was up when she had come on so strongly. But I was horny—blinded by my own desire and my hard-on, wanting her so badly that I just went with the flow.
Instead of walking out of the bathroom after burying myself within her sweet center with a grin on my face like I’d envisioned, I’d been forced to do a walk of shame through the entire bar. It was mortifying, but I took it in stride even if it had taken Ginny a good five minutes to stop laughing while I stood there trying with desperate swipes and several reams of napkins to try and wipe off the mess.
At least I could see the funny side, though. And maybe Ginny and the woman were right—maybe I did deserve it. I knew one thing for sure, next time I went to the event I would be staying the hell away from the condiments section. But a little mayo wouldn’t keep me away from the ladies…
What bugged me the most, though, was that I hadn’t even learned her name. I doubted I would see her again—not like she would come back to the bar after that—but hell, she had been vastly different from any other woman I had come on to in that place.
“What about your little woman? I saw her sneaking out of the apartment the next morning.”
Darren turned all shades of red and looked down at his hands, a grin on his lips. “She’s, well, she’s very nice. She said you mentioned me.”
“She was too nice for me. Not my type.” I said, thinking about the tearful woman I had offended. I shook my head. “I can’t believe you got laid and I didn’t. You owe me, man.”
“What for?”
“For sending her to you, of course.”
“You just said she was too nice for you.”
“Yeah, well you should just be thankful that I didn’t settle.”
“You’re an ass you know that right?”
“It’s been said before, yes.” I grinned, hoping he wasn’t taking me too seriously. “You gonna see her again?”
Darren nodded. “We’ve got a date tonight, a real one. I’m going take her somewhere fancy. She deserves it.”
“That’s good man,” I said honestly, glad that he had found someone. “Real good.”
Darren gave me a pleased smile and put his hard hat back on his head and motioned for me to do the same. “Yeah, but we can’t go till we get this finished, so come on, back to work.”
“All right, Casanova, I’ll try not to let a bit of dehydration get in the way of your love life.”
I drained my bottle and threw it in the trash, wishing for a second that I was a little more like my roommate when it came to dating; able to actually date, for one. But then I thought better of it. I had no reason to settle down with anyone and give up my one-night stands. It was too dangerous anyway.
Nah it was easier to just love ‘em and leave ‘em. And they all knew that’s where I stood going in as well. It wasn’t like I misled them and told them that it could lead to anything serious. I was pretty upfront and honest, much to my own detriment, thinking again of the mayo girl.
God, I had to stop calling her that. I wondered if Ginny would let me take a glimpse at the sign-up sheets.
Just to satisfy my own curiosity, of course.
Music flowed out of the bar as I opened the door, letting it escape into the night. As my eyes adjusted to the darkened interior, I realized that I’d been on autopilot after work, my feet leading me here without even consciously thinking about it. It wasn’t a weekend night and there wasn’t a speed-dating event scheduled, either, but now that I was here a cold beer wouldn’t go to waste, I thought. And because Darren was on his date, it was better than drinking in the apartment alone.
“Hey, Lucas,” Ginny said as I sat down, pushing a cocktail napkin toward me. Ginny was the soul of this place, she put everything into her old dad’s bar and though I’d attempted to hit on her a time or two, she was smart enough to not go for any of the customers. Or maybe she was just smart enough to stay away from the likes of me.
Probably a wise decision.
But in a way, over time—I’d become a regular of sorts—we’d forged a bit of a friendship.
“Ginny, a beer please,” I said, giving her a grin. She nodded and reached into the cooler, popped its top then pushed the cold longneck towards me.
She bit her lip like she was trying to stop herself from smiling. “Where’s your friend tonight?” she asked, leaning over the bar. The place was quiet with only a few of the regulars scattered around the place.
“Darren? He’s on a date,” I smirked, taking a long draw off of the beer.
“Oh, the woman from the singles night? Good for him.”
“Yeah,” I echoed, thinking of how nervous Darren was before I left the job site. I didn’t understand why anyone would put himself through actual dating or a full-blown relationship; way too messy if you asked me. All those emotions getting in the way. But hey, at some point, before I lost my good looks, I probably was going to have to subject myself to that to avoid ending up old and alone. Just not yet.
“But that’s not who I meant,” Ginny said and wiped down the counter.
“You’re never going to let that lie are you?”
My mind floated back to the blonde from the other night and I grimaced, wishing that whole incident had turned out better than it had. I would have been over and done with thinking about her if I’d had my way, but unfortunately she was still floating around in my mind, irritating me to no end. Like an itch I could not reach.
“Not in your lifetime. I’ll be telling that story till my dying day. The day Don Juan himself got schooled. It was perfect. Glorious even. Okay, so even I admit it wasn’t exactly the greatest advertisement for the speed-dating night, but everyone did seem to relax a bit after that. Including your Darren. Laughing’s good for the soul, you know?”
I sighed but knew she was only teasing, and I let it slide. “I’m so glad my little incident could bring joy to the world.”
Ginny smiled but then it vanished. She folded the rag in half and put it on the bar then pointed a stern finger at me. “But if I catch you trying to use one of my bathrooms as your own personal fuck-closet, well lets just say you’ll be needing a whole load of stain remover to get the blood out. Mayo will be the least of your problems.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Lesson learned, I promise.”
“Good. Still waiting for an apology though.”
“I’m sorry,” I said and gave her my best smile.
“Something tells me I shouldn’t believe it,” she replied, eyes narrowed slightly.
Ginny turned her attention to another customer who’d sat down at the end of the bar. While she was gone I looked up at the TV, and saw that a baseball game was just starting.
Just great.
If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. At one time, a long time ago, I loved baseball. Still did in a way. It was almost a distant memory, but I still felt the tingle beneath my skin every time I glimpsed a game. But there was always the overpowering sense of regret and anger that came with it, too.
I loved the smell of the earthy field just after it had been mowed; the dirt on my crisp uniform, and the way the ball fell into my glove each time. It had been m
y entire life, everything to me before it had been ripped away.
“Want me to turn it up?” Ginny asked, startling me from all those old memories, including the painful ones.
“Nah, don’t bother, switch it to the tennis if you want. I do have one thing to ask though…”
“Something tells me I’m not going to like it.”
“Well, now that we’re on good terms again. How about you give me a peek at the sign-up sheet from the other night?” I said the words like they couldn’t get out of my mouth fast enough. As if saying them so quickly would make her more amenable to the request.
“You’re kidding, right?”
I shook my head and drummed my hands on the smooth bartop, then turned up the wattage of my smile. “C’mon what d’ya say? For little ol’ me. You know I’m your best customer.”
“Er, how about hell no!”
“No one has to know.”
“I will know. Besides all that stuff is confidential. Or do you want me to start giving out your number to every broken-hearted woman you’ve met here?”
She had me there. That was the last thing I wanted. “Fine. I get your point.”
“Why do you want it anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
She pinned me with her gaze, seemingly able to read me like an open book, then waggled her finger in a “gotcha” sort of way. “She totally got to you didn’t she? You can’t stand that she didn’t go for your dirty-talking, foul mouth!”
“You’re delusional.”
Ginny laughed. “Sure, of course. That has to be it.”
I rolled my eyes then finished off my beer, letting the conversation lull. Ginny wasn’t right was she? Nah. It was just curiosity more than anything. So what if I wanted to know her name? Wasn’t the end of the world if that mystery went unsolved.
“Another?”
“Nah. I’m good,” I said no longer really in the mood. The change no doubt brought on by the mere glimpse of the baseball game playing just within my peripheral vision. I slipped a wad of cash onto the bar, more than enough to give Ginny a good tip before saying goodbye and walking out. Every time I thought about baseball, it put me in a foul mood. But maybe it was more than that…
I climbed into my truck and gunned the engine, turning the vehicle toward the apartment. Going home wasn’t really what I had in mind, but I had nowhere else to go. A detour caused me to turn down Wickham road, one that I’d tried to avoid at all costs. The batting cages came into view and before I knew what I was doing I pulled in automatically, knowing I shouldn’t.
It was like I was torturing myself over and over again, but the lure of the game still pulled at my inner workings. I climbed out of the truck and grabbed the barely used bat that lay for the most part forgotten on the floorboard of the back seat. My fingers first touched cold metal and I brushed the revolver away automatically and continued to search for the bat. The wood felt familiar once it was in my hands. Heavy. Grounding. I gritted my teeth, hating the fact that it had this hold over me.
I paid for the bucket of balls and found the fast machine section, loaded the balls into the hopper, set the speed, and turned it on with the small, handheld remote.
My movements were familiar and I warmed my muscles up like it was an ingrained ritual.
Stepping into the box, I assumed my stance, with my knees slightly bent and my body positioned just to the side of the plate. Everything came flooding back even though I hadn’t stopped by the cages in more than a year. Muscle memory took over and my mind was calm.
I could still hear the roar of the crowd, see the signals my coach used to throw at me to which I rarely paid attention. I’d always decided in the moment what kind of ball I was going to hit, regardless of the consequences, even though it had caused me a lot of flak from my coaches.
But I could tell by the glimmer in their eyes they relished the electrifying unpredictability I brought to the team. I was a wild card, and yet a natural at the same time; a fastballer everyone loved to hate. I’d been going places, they’d even said as much.
The first ball whizzed out of the machine and I cracked it. It flew to the back of the cage.
The rush of adrenaline nearly took my breath away.
Pitching was more my style, but I’d still perfected my swing back in the day, hitting more home runs than any other pitchers in the league. I’d been a mini-legend around my small town but now I was a nobody; with nothing going for me except a boring construction job and the occasional easy conquest.
My life was shit.
The next ball came out of the hopper and I hit it with all the anger I could muster. All the pent-up frustration that had been brewing over the years exploded out of me. For a second the flash of a woman’s face appeared out of nowhere in my mind’s eye. The girl from the bar.
I hit the ball again, shaking her from my thoughts. But no matter what I did she was still lodged inside, battling for attention against a flood of baseball memories.
One ball after the other came flying towards me and I hit each one of them with a deafening crack trying to clear my head. My shoulders started to pull but I didn’t care, I could do this for hours. Eventually, I would get into that meditative state—I’d be in the zone—where I thought of nothing but the ball and the swing of my bat.
Yet swing after swing it felt like the opposite was happening.
When the machine cut off I loaded up it and went again… and again. Eventually it got to the point where sweat was dripping from my brow, practically blinding me, and my arms became heavy.
Slightly dazed, I wondered what the hell I was doing there. You don’t get over a past love, even if that love was baseball, by torturing yourself with it.
And you certainly don’t get what you want by not going after it… or her in this case.
She may have gotten away once, but I was determined more than ever to find out her name and make her mine… even for only one night.
4
Cara
Turning to the next page of my notes I took a breath halting the dictation for a second to re-read my loopy handwriting, then started to speak into my phone again.
“Mrs. Gibbs’ expectations of her husband are that he’s to be a good provider and good in bed. Mr. Gibbs stated that he has no problems with either request, however Mrs. Gibbs warned that if he is not up to the task, she will seek pleasure elsewhere. The session ended with Mr. Gibbs getting down on his knees pleading with his wife to give him a second chance. The married couple left on a semi-bright note and will return for another session next week.”
With a few taps I ended the recording and put the phone down. I rubbed my eyes, glad that the visit with the Gibbs’ was finally over. They were an odd couple and I had a worrying inclination that anything Mr. Gibbs tried to do to please his wife would always fall short of her ever-demanding and increasing expectations. But they paid my rates without question so I kept listening, trying what I could to steer them to a mutual resolution. I wanted to help them to see that they were so lucky to have each other. I tried not to judge them too harshly—always attempting to leave my own emotions out of it. But didn’t they realize how lucky they were to have each other, period? I mean, if they had to resort to speed dating like I had, Mrs. Gibbs probably wouldn’t complain so much about her husband or their sex life… there were worse men out there. Men like Luke.
“Hey, you had lunch yet?”
I looked up to see Lucia in the doorway of my office, looking every inch the professional she was. We’d been best friends since our first day of college and I’d asked her more than a year ago to join me in my new private practice after I moved back to Florida. So far, we’d both been extremely successful. Lucia’s focus was work-related performance therapy, mainly concentrating on the high-pressure business and sports sectors; helping stockbrokers and athletes alike with their professional and personal issues. And with her football-superstar husband, Jacob, always bragging about her—he was so proud of what she did—s
he was always booked up. Some of it flowed my way, too. Unhappy wives of the athletes and such.
“Not yet, I wanted to get these notes done while they were fresh in my mind. Done now, though.”
“Come on then,” she said. She looked at her watch with a frown. I knew what she was thinking; it was already past two and I was working too hard, neglecting eating, but thankfully she didn’t scold me. She was always trying to take care of me ever since she’d become a mom. “Let’s walk down to the bistro. I’m starving. My treat?”
I nodded and grabbed my bag. As we made our way down the quiet street Lucia kept biting her lip like there was something on her mind. She wasn’t normally this quiet. There had to be an ulterior motive to this lunch, I thought as we reached the little bistro on the corner that we frequented quite a lot. We took our regular seats at one of the outdoor dining tables; the metal chairs were uneven, rocked slightly, and the tables wobbled, but the food was to die for. Lucia immediately reached for the menu and hid behind it as if choosing the right meal was a matter of life or death.
After placing our orders, I leaned back in my chair. “So, how did your meeting go today?”
Lucia blushed and I knew what that meant—it was practically written all over her face. For the last few weeks she’d been pursuing her next big client; trying to become the team psychologist for the local semi-pro basketball team. She’d even enlisted the help of her father, the mayor of our fair city, to rally her case. But from her hesitancy to tell me, I could tell something had changed.
“Well, I decided not to do it.”
“What?” I asked, faking my surprise.
She patted her stomach and I let my jaw drop to the floor. “I knew it! You let Jacob knock you up again and you’ve been quiet all this time.”
She laughed and nodded. “I’m not that far along, but yes, I’m pregnant. Do you think it’s too soon?”
“Do you two not know how to use condoms?” I asked with a smile but simultaneously crossed my arms over my chest. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my godchild, Nora, but she was barely seven months old and Lucia had really only just got settled back into work. The thought of the office across the hall being empty again made the loneliness well up inside.
The Curve Ball Page 3
