by S. E. Rose
“Oh, yes. Thank you. I’m meeting up with my insurance guy tomorrow afternoon, so hopefully, I can get my first check. I want to replace my equipment as soon as possible. I have a lot of work to do this week. I still have a few more people to shoot for the gala event and I have a few shoots scheduled with clients.”
“I could ask my friend if you need help. She has lots of photography equipment.”
Tabitha shakes her head. “Thanks, but I’m used to specific cameras, so I just want to replace what was damaged.”
“I understand.” I turn to walk back to my room but stop. “And for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry about all of this.”
“Thanks,” she answers quietly.
Chapter Seven
I finish my solo workout just as my mom sends a text.
Mothership: Sweetie, you still available for lunch?
Me: Yep. I just finished my workout. I’ll meet you at Blue Palace?
Mothership: Hehe. I am already here. Can I come up?
Me: You know you don’t have to ask. Just come up.
I laugh as I walk toward the bathroom. The door is closed. Shit.
“Tabitha?” I ask as I knock on the door.
“Sorry, just a minute,” she mumbles from the other side of the door. The door flies open, and I suck in a breath.
Tabitha stands there with one of my big, white, fluffy towels wrapped around her. Her wet hair is a mess of loose curls that fall around her shoulders. I see a few tattoos, and I wonder why she chose them. Something in a foreign language, a bird, and a flower. It’s the first real glimpse I’ve had of them. Her skin is flawless and pale with a smattering of freckles on her shoulders. The towel is tucked into her cleavage, and dear god, it’s perfect cleavage. I look back up at her eyes. Her face tells me that I’ve been caught red-handed ogling her.
A blush crawled up her chest to her face as she steps around me and goes into the den.
I take a breath and go to shower. This living-with-Tabitha thing is going to be harder than I thought. I thought my type was the tall, skinny blondes I normally date, but Tabitha is making me re-think that. Hell, she’s making me re-think everything.
Tabitha
FML. I toss on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt that I had bought myself this morning. Thank god for street vendors.
I feel a little silly wearing an oversized baseball t-shirt. I don’t even know anything about the sport other than they use a ball and a bat.
I’m surprised by a sound in the family room because I can still hear the shower running. I look around the room. There’s a bat on the wall. It looks like a collector’s item, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I pick it up and creep out into the hallway with the bat raised up as I tiptoe on the wooden floor.
I peek around the corner and sigh. I lower the bat. It’s an older woman. Based on her facial features and my spying on Kent’s family photo, there’s no doubt in my mind that she is Kent’s mother.
I lean the bat against the wall and the noise has her turning toward me.
She smiles and it evokes something in me. This woman screams mother. Like seriously, if I imagined the perfect mom, she would definitely be it.
“Well, hello there, dear. I’m Kathy, Kent’s mom. You must be Tabitha?”
I wonder what Kent has said about me. “Uh, yes. It’s nice to meet you.” I cross the room to shake her hand but instead, she pulls me in for a warm hug.
“I’m so sorry about the fire, sweetheart. Is there anything you need? Anything I can help with?” she asks as though she’s known me my whole life.
She releases me but holds on to my shoulders as she looks into my eyes. She’s short, about an inch or two shorter than me, which strikes me as strange because Kent is so tall. She’s pretty. She has some gray streaks in her otherwise chin-length wavy brown hair. Her eyes are an icy blue surrounded by thick eyelashes. She has few wrinkles or imperfections on her skin, which she clearly takes care of. She’s wearing a pretty green blouse and black pants with sandals. She’s not rail thin but not overweight. She has curves that make you want to hug her. She really looks like the perfect mother.
I shake my head, surprised by the emotion that bubbles to the surface. I take a deep breath before answering. “No, thank you. I appreciate that, though. I’m actually heading over to meet with my insurance adjuster.”
“What time?” she asks, glancing at her watch.
“In about an hour,” I admit.
She smiles. “Well then, you can come to lunch with us. We always go to this little Chinese restaurant around the corner, the Blue Palace. Do you like Chinese food?”
“Uh, yeah?”
She gives me a look that I can only describe as motherly. She opens her mouth to speak but is cut short by Kent.
“Hey, Mothership!” he says as he walks in and picks his mom up in a giant bear hug. She plants a kiss on his cheek and squeezes his bicep.
“Hey, sweetheart. I was just inviting Tabitha to lunch with us.”
Kent
“Tabby, please,” Tabitha corrects. I smirk because the nickname suits her. She’s a loner like a cat and busy like a kitten.
“Well, Tabby, what say you?” I ask, emphasizing her name.
She blushes. “Uh, yeah, sure. Why not?”
We walk down to the restaurant as my mom drones on in her normal bubbly way. Her inner cheerleader is strong even decades after she was one. She even has a bounce to her step. She’s oblivious to normal-human-contact conventions and loops her arm through Tabitha’s as they walk. She talks with her other hand. I drown out her discussion of this part of the city as my phone buzzes. I groan. It’s the team manager.
Walt: Stop by my office before practice
Me: Will do
I groan because I’m sure he wants an update on how my “getting my head in the game” stuff is going. I open the door to the restaurant as Tabitha and my mother walk inside.
“Mr. Kent! You no call me. Lucky, I have table for you,” says a man at the front desk.
“Thanks, Mr. Wu. I meant to call for a reservation and completely forgot.”
Mr. Wu grabs menus and walks to a table in the corner.
“Who is your lady friend?” he asks. He holds out his hand to Tabitha. “I am Mr. Wu.”
Tabitha gives him a big smile. “I’m Tabitha. Nice to meet you, Mr. Wu.”
Mr. Wu rattles off the specials, and we all order.
“So, you are a photographer?” my mom asks as she lays a linen napkin across her lap.
Tabitha nods as she swallows water. “Yes. I’m actually working with the team right now on some charity work.”
“Kent mentioned that. You must be very good at your job.”
Tabitha blushes. I am beginning to like the pink tinge on her face when she’s embarrassed. She is adorable. Somehow, my gut tells me that beneath her eccentric exterior she was just the shy girl next door.
“I have a special appetizer for you,” Mr. Wu says as he sets down a plate of some type of fried something.
“Thanks, Mr. Wu,” we all say in unison.
Tabitha
Kent takes a tiny bite before lifting his fork for his mom to finish. He looks at me sheepishly. “Mr. Wu spoils us but I’m on a pretty strict diet right now. I need to keep my body in high performance for a few more weeks.”
“Why?” The question leaves my lips before I can process his statement.
Kent and his mom gape at me. “Kent’s team is doing very well, hon. I think he’s preparing to be in playoffs.”
“Playoffs?” I ask. I know I should understand this. I mean, I get that it means he’s competing to win something, but I literally know nothing about baseball. My mind searches for something, anything so I don’t look like an idiot.
“So, you’re going to the Super Bowl?” I ask.
Mrs. Moore tries to hide her giggle. But Kent can’t contain himself. He pounds his fist on the table before taking a few deep breaths.
“It’s the W
orld Series. The Super Bowl is the championship game for football.”
“Oh,” I say. I can feel the heat creeping up my skin, stupid pale skin. Damn it! I suck at sports terminology. I should have known that one though. He must think I’m an idiot.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Tabby. Kent doesn’t even know who Ansel Adams is.”
I look to Kent, surprised.
Kent glares at his mom. “I do, too.”
She raises an eyebrow at him. He grumbles under his breath. “Fine, I don’t, OK?”
I giggle and pull up an Ansel Adams photo on my phone.
“Oh, that guy. Yeah, I know who that is, or I’ve seen his work anyways.”
“You’d get along great with our Kylie. How old are you?” Mrs. Moore asks. Something about her question makes me laugh. It’s like a nurse or teacher asking a little kid their age. I almost want to answer that I am twenty-four and a half.
“Twenty-four,” I answer.
“Are you from the area?”
I nod. “I grew up in Rockville.”
“Oh, that’s not far from us. Are your parents still there?” Her question is so innocent and normal, yet she has no idea it opens the Pandora’s box of my shitty childhood. I give her my canned response. The one I use for everyone.
“My grandparents raised my brother and me. And yes, they still live there.”
“Oh,” she answers, searching my eyes. She quickly moves away from the topic of my parents. Smart lady. “Is your brother still in the area?”
“Yep. Brixton lives in Bethesda, but he travels a lot for work. He’s actually on a work trip right now. He’s a government contractor.”
“Kent’s dad works for the government,” she says, and I smile at the way she refers to her husband. I can tell just from the way she says that one sentence that she loves her husband.
“What does he do?” I ask, trying to take the questioning off of me.
“He works for NASA. He’s an engineer.”
“Wow. That sounds like a tough job.”
“Oh, Ted is great at it. His brain just gets numbers. He’s so analytical.” She giggles. “The complete opposite of me. But you know what they say, opposites attract.”
She looks between us and Kent coughs.
“Mom…” he starts but Mr. Wu brings us our food.
The conversation moves to a more comfortable topic of the team that Kent will be playing against this week. I learn that his family always makes sure that at least one of them is in attendance at all his home games. It’s sweet. They are like a TV family. I immediately want to meet them, want to photograph them.
“You have a big family,” I say as we pay Mr. Wu and head out of the restaurant.
“Yep. Plus, my grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins. There’s always someone around,” Kent answers.
I turn to Mrs. Moore. “Did you always want a lot of kids?”
Kent bursts out laughing.
Mrs. Moore smiles. “Well, I always wanted two girls and two boys. We had Kylie. Although she’s a tomboy and a total daddy’s girl, we decided that three girls and a boy were it. Then, Mr. Moore and I had a little oops baby and voila, we got that second boy.” She laughs. “Best accident ever.”
Kent chuckles. “I swear, Mom, the fact that C-Dog doesn’t have a complex from a lifetime of being called the best accident ever is beyond me.”
She shushes him with her finger on his lips. “Hush now. You know I love all my babies.”
He wraps an arm around her shoulder, and she leans into him as they walk. “Love you, Momma.”
She kisses his giant bicep. “Love you too, sweet boy.”
My heart melts and my brain seethes with jealousy. I’ve never wanted what they have more in my entire life, but having it smack in my face…it’s hard to contain the feelings I’m having. I decide I need to extricate myself immediately.
“Well, I hate to be a party pooper. But I need to go meet my insurance adjuster.”
They turn to face me.
“Oh, I can come with you, dear.”
“Mom’s in real estate,” he says.
“I had to find something to do when all my babies grew up”—she turns to me—“I used to be a school nurse, but after Clark came along, it was just too much. Then, a few years ago, I got obsessed with those home shows on TV and I decided to get my real estate license.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m fine, really.”
“Are you sure? I have my car here,” she points out.
“I can call a ride,” I say, pointing to my phone.
“I insist,” she says.
“Mom, you should be careful. It’s a bit of a rough neighborhood,” Kent says. I want to roll my eyes at Kent’s assessment of my transition neighborhood, but I decide to let it go. He may have a point.
She tosses her hand up. “Now, Kent Jason Moore, your mother is more than capable of taking care of herself. Come on, dear, I’m parked just over here.” She leans up and kisses Kent on the cheek, wishing him a good practice.
I hesitate but Mrs. Moore just grabs my hand and pulls me in the direction of her car. I look back at Kent who gives me a “sorry” look.
“I’ll see you later,” he says to me. “It’ll be late. I have a game at seven.”
I nod as Mrs. Moore drags me to the car.
Kent just gives me a sheepish look and wave as we pull away.
Chapter Eight
I have never been so happy to have met someone at the right time in my entire life.
“Now, Phil, you can’t possibly expect all of that to be salvageable,” she says as she points to my equipment in a closet.
She’s already pointed out things I would have overlooked and argued with Phil, my insurance adjuster, over fine details in my policy.
“I’ll add it to the list,” he says in an annoyed tone.
“Great,” she replies with a clap of her hands.
“Miss Crane, I’ll be in touch in a few days,” he says to me. He’s already explained that under my policy I can spend up to $500 to replace items I need for the next few days.
“Let’s see, dear. How about we make a pile of clothes that you can get cleaned? And then we can make a pile of anything else you want to keep,” she says.
“Mrs. Moore—”
“Kathy,” she corrects me.
“Kathy, you’ve been such an enormous help today, but really, I can do this myself. I don’t want to hold you up.”
Kathy laughs. “Trust me, I have the entire afternoon free. I’m going to Kent’s game tonight, so I’m stuck down here until then.”
“You are?”
“Yep. Hey, do you want to come with me?” she asks.
I’m too embarrassed to admit that I have never been to a baseball game in my entire life. My grandfather watched sports on occasion, but he and my grandmother were more into movies. They still go every weekend. PopPop had been an extra in a film when he was a teenager and he got hooked. He wanted to go into acting but his dad got sick and he started working in construction to help the family pay bills. Then he went into the army and met my grandma, who was a nurse. And the rest is history, as they say.
Chapter Nine
Kent
“Is that the girl?” Ward asks as we sit in the dugout. It’s the fifth inning, and we are up by two runs.
“Yep,” I answer as I watch our teammate Derek Masters hit a double.
“Why is she sitting with your mom?”
I groan. I love Ward, I do. He’s like a brother to me, but he’s really good at getting all up in my business when I don’t want him there.
“Long story,” I grunt.
“Well, we have some time,” Ward points out as the ump argues with the second baseman.
“She’s with Mothership because…Kathy is Kathy.”
Ward barks out a laugh. “I fucking love your mom. She’s just so…Kathy.”
I roll my eyes and pull the brim of my cap down.
“She’s something,” I mutte
r as I turn back to focus on the game.
I shake my head and get in my zone as our left fielder strikes out. I need to keep my head in the game and focus, but it’s damn hard with Tabitha here reminding me of the crazy past twenty-four hours of my life. I need to go home. Tomorrow we have a doubleheader, and then I need to get my ass to my house. I need to decompress.
I pull on my focus face and don’t give up any more runs as I pitch one more inning before our other pitcher steps in to finish the game. My mind is all over the place as I sit in the dugout and watch my team win.
Mothership: Great game, sweetie. I’m gonna drop Tabby at the apartment. See you this weekend?
Me: Yeah. Coming home tomorrow after my games.
Mothership: OK. I’ll make chili. Dad’s coming for the doubleheader.
Me: K
My mind keeps going back to Tabitha as I finish up and head home.
Chapter Ten
Tabitha
My mind is going a mile a minute. Kathy can talk. And boy oh boy did she talk. Between explaining the game and talking about her family, I am completely overwhelmed. I may have fallen asleep after the game and now I see it’s after ten in the morning.
The silence in Kent’s apartment is more than welcome. I grab the suitcases from the front entrance that Kathy helped me bring up last night and toss some of them on the floor of the kitchen, not wanting the smoky smell to sink into his plush carpeting in the den.
I unload one with my clothes and start doing laundry, attempting to wash the smell of smoke out of them.
My phone pings.
Brix: How is everything?
Me: OK
Brix: For real?
Me: Yes. When are you back?
Brix: About that…
I groan. My brother means well. He really does, but while he’s gallivanting around the world saving children, I’m here dealing with our aging grandparents and his studio apartment. I don’t even know why he keeps the damn apartment, he’s never there.
Brix: Hello??
Me: What?!
Brix: Geez. I was just going to see if you can check on the apartment this week? Pretty please with a cherry on top?
