Curveball (14 page)

“What do you mean?”

“Uncle Sheldon couldn’t be my blood, because he thinks the world of me.” She shrugged.
“Shared DNA or not, it’s nice to have one relative who doesn’t think of me as an idiot.”

Paige hopped off the desk and headed back to her filing cabinets. Cat watched her
go, almost feeling sorry for the major league brat.

Cat pounded the pedestrian crosswalk button and jumped back from the curb. The sun
was beating down on her pale, bare arms and she hoped the SPF thirty she’d applied
five hours ago was still working. Cars whooshed from the north and south lanes, leaving
behind hot waves of exhaust. A truck sped through the intersection in an attempt to
make the yellow light. Her eyes turned to the pedestrian signal.

Camine.

(Walk.)

The permission to walk appeared with a neon green stickman. She scurried across the
street between honking drivers and speeding bicyclists, hoping that the stickman held
clout with the buzzing afternoon traffic. She hopped over the curb and bolted into
the facility’s field house, grateful for the smack of air conditioning that welcomed
her. Ever since Joe had made her try a coconut soda, she’d been smitten with the beverage.
Unfortunately the vending machines in her building were stocked with only the American
variations of carbonation. After an hour of amateur sleuthing, she’d gotten a tip
that Coco Rico was stocked in this new addition of the complex, right next to the
batting cages. Cat looked around the empty lobby for several seconds before spotting
the doors at the end of the hallway. As she neared, she could hear the telltale sign
of a hitter making contact with a baseball. She pushed open the door and saw the refrigerated
rectangle housing her fix. She’d come prepared with plenty of Dominican
pesos
and the machine requested fifteen
pesos oro
. She snatched the can out of the vending machine’s mouth the second it was dispensed
and had it cracked open and up to her lips before it had recovered from the sale.
The coconut syrup tickled her taste buds and the bubbles tingled as they danced down
her throat. She stepped up to the fence and watched the batter at the plate.

“¡Coñazo!”

(“Pain in the ass!”)

The curse came from behind her. Cat turned her attention to the soda machine’s new
customer. A man pounded the Coco Rico button furiously, but it responded with a sold-out
flicker.

Coco Rico was delicious but not worth a nervous breakdown. She cleared her throat
to get his attention.

He craned his head to her and she waved her soda can with a playful shake.

“Lo siento mucho. Es el último.”

(“I’m sorry. It’s the last one.”)

He cocked his head and stared at her. She flipped her hair behind her head and took
a long, dramatic drink of the soda. When she saw he was still watching, she smacked
her lips.

“Ahhh. ¡Qué delicioso!”

(“Ah, delicious!”)

His lips parted into a giant smile. “I can’t believe this. You’re Catriona McDaniel.
You don’t remember me, do you?”

Cat dropped the attitude as realization hit. His curly dark hair was buzzed short
and had begun to recede past the crown of his forehead. He’d put on twenty pounds,
mostly muscle—judging from the bulges jutting out from the fitted orange Soldiers’
training jersey. But the crooked smile and deep-set cocoa eyes hadn’t changed a bit.

“Junior DeLeon.”

His grin stretched wider. “So, I did make an impression.”

“Impression? I spent my senior year of college as your glorified bat girl.” She matched
his grin. “Get over here and say hi like a proper LSU Top Hat.”

He rushed over and wrapped his arms around her. “You haven’t changed a bit since Lincoln
State U. What are you doing here?”

Before she could answer, Paige appeared in the hallway door. She looked back and forth
between the two.

Cat pulled herself out of Junior’s arms. “Paige, this is—”

“Paige?”

Not even Paige’s heavy foundation could disguise the sudden absence of color in her
cheeks.

Cat turned to Junior, who was focused on Paige every bit as intently as she on him.
“You two know each other?”

“Junior.” Paige’s shaky voice echoed in the hallway. “Why are you …” She stopped herself
and swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”

He took a step closer. “This is my facility. I mean, I work here. I’m a batting coach
for the program down here. What are you—”

“I’m working across the street. I’m an assistant for Joe O’Donnell, he’s a—”

“A scout, I know him.” He shook his head at her. “I can’t believe this. I haven’t
seen you since the—”

“The Boston All-Star ...” Paige’s voice faded to a squeak.

“That was quite a week—especially the last night.” He turned to Cat, completely oblivious
to the horrified dismay on Paige’s face. “Both our dads were in the game. Me and Paige
snuck out of the ballpark to the Brattle Theater to watch
Casablanca
, then went back to the team hotel and stole a bottle of some wine I couldn’t even
pronounce from her dad’s minibar, charged the team for every single item on the room
service menu and spent the night on the rooftop.”

Paige fiercely blinked her eyes, reopening them to narrowed slits, “Yeah.”

He took another step and reached for Paige’s hand. “And now you’re here.” He lifted
her arm up and threw his other into the air dramatically, grinning at both Paige and
Cat. “Of all the batting cages, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into
mine.”

Paige pulled her hand free and placed it on her hip. “I didn’t walk into your
anything
. I came to get Cat.” She laughed haughtily. “I didn’t even recognize you until I
heard her say your name.”

Junior recoiled, his mouth forming a silent “oh” as though finally getting her message.

The hallway was silent but for the hum of the vending machine. Cat suddenly felt like
a third wheel on a chalk marker.

Cat took another drink of soda and broke the silence. “Paige, what did you need from
me?”

“What?” Realization crossed her blank face. “Oh, y-yeah. Joe wanted you to get a Coco
Rico for him, too.”

Cat sucked in a dramatic breath. “Ooh. Too bad. This was the last one.”

“He’ll live. Not like he needs any more empty calories anyway.” Paige opened the hallway
door, reaching for Cat’s arm as she held it open with her foot. “Come on. He also
wants to know if you want to go to the Tigers game tonight.”

“Oh, okay.” She smiled politely. “Well Junior, it was really nice to see you. We’ll
have to get together and catch up while I’m down here.”

Junior followed them down the hallway. “You should go to the game. You both should.
Local baseball games down here are a blast. The team has a box there.”

Paige kept walking, her fingernails digging into Cat’s arm. Cat frowned down the grip
and narrowed her eyes at Paige.

Junior’s tennis shoes squeaked on the tile as he hurried to keep up with their hasty
heel clicks. “I have an idea. Why don’t the three of us have dinner beforehand, give
us all a chance to catch up?”

Cat smiled and stopped, wiggling her arm out of Paige’s claws. “Yeah! That sounds
like—”

“Let me think about it.” Paige paused for effect. “No.” She took off without Cat to
the building’s exit. The door slammed behind her.

Cat frowned at Junior. “Just a sec.”

She pushed open the door and—like a moviegoer stepping out of the theater after a
two hour matinee—was immediately taken aback by the bright day. She only managed to
catch up to Paige because the girl was impeded by a red light at the crosswalk. She
tapped her toes on the sidewalk, glaring at the handful of pedestrians as though they
were to blame for the delay.

Cat shielded her eyes from the blinding sun as she asked, “Hey, what was that all
about?”

Paige pulled her aviator sunglasses off the top of her head and coolly slipped them
over her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I just don’t want to have dinner with that jock
strap.”

Junior rushed to their sides, just missing his new soubriquet. “Please? I know the
best restaurant in town and this time we don’t have to steal the Cabernet Sauvignon
from your dad’s minibar.” He gave Paige an irresistible pout. It was nice to see someone
turn the tables on her.

Paige seemed on the verge of relenting when the light changed. The group of pedestrians
flooded the street and she resumed shunning him.

His shoulders fell and he nodded. “For what it’s worth, it was nice to see you again.”

Cat stared at Paige, delivering a silent plea for compassion.

Paige met Cat’s big greens with brown slivers. She took a step forward with the group
but stopped before the curb. “Junior … wait.”

He turned around, a spark of hope in his big brown eyes.

“Okay. We’re staying at
La Concha
. Meet us in the lobby at six o’clock.”

Cat smiled at his jubilated grin.

“It’s a date!” He looked at Cat and added, “Uh, for all three of us, that is.”

The elevator doors dinged open to the hotel lobby. Both Cat and Junior perked up and
looked in, only to see an older Hispanic couple step out. Junior glanced at his watch
again.

Cat smiled apologetically. “She just had to finish up some last minute work. I’m sure
she’ll be here any second.”

The “last minute work” consisted of hair curlers and three different bottles of hair
products. Cat had made the innocent observation that it seemed like an awful lot of
work to go through for someone you had to be persuaded to dine with. Paige dutifully
explained that holding a grudge didn’t have to be ugly.

She eyeballed Cat’s polka-dotted frock with deliberate disdain. “I should take you
shopping some time.”

“Oh.” She pressed her lips together as her mind scoured for a non-confrontational
response. “I couldn’t let you do that.”

Translation: I’d rather choke to death on that ounce of spandex you’re calling a dress.

“I have to.” Paige’s eyes widened sincerely. “I’m not usually into charity work but
it’s kind of like a doctor who drives by the scene of an accident; I’m bound by law
to stop and administer aid.” She turned back to her reflection, leaning into the mirror
to check her makeup.

Cat glared at the mound of hair curlers but bit her tongue. “I’ll tell Junior we’re
going to be late.” With that, Cat turned on her heel and stomped off to meet Junior
in the lobby.

Now, twenty minutes later, she and her former classmate were all caught up on alumni
gossip. The ticktocking of the oversized Bulova wall clock above the concierge’s desk
made the silence all the more conspicuous.

Finally, the elevator dinged again and the clomp of towering stilettos predominated.
Paige entered the lobby and twirled, drawing more attention than the lobby's fifteen-foot
Christmas tree. The painted-on cami slip dress didn’t move but her hair fanned out
before falling into a perfect puff of curls on her shoulders.

Cat tapped on her watchless wrist to emphasize a point that Paige was sure to miss.
In doing so, she saw her nail polish was chipped. Putting up with Paige’s behavior
was bad enough, but just standing next to her had a way of making a girl feel like
the before half of a makeover success photo. Paige’s nails were always manicured,
her hair done, her clothes stylish and her makeup flawless. When you considered all
the work that went into her glam, it was amazing she was only twenty minutes late.

Junior popped up from the leather sofa. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going
to show.” The confident gleam in his eye said otherwise.

“I nearly didn’t.” The three inches of eye shadow begged to differ.

“You look great.”

“I know.”

Cat rolled her eyes and started digging into her purse. “Crap. I left my cell phone
upstairs on the charger. I have to go back and get it.”

Paige shook her head. “We so don’t have time for that.” She pointed at her hair. “These
curls have a shelf life.”

“Come on. It’ll take two minutes.” Cat looked back and forth between Paige and Junior.
“Benji’s supposed to call when his afternoon labs are over.”

“Right in the middle of dinner? Rude. We can stop back by here before the game.” Paige
didn’t wait for an answer and continued toward the door.

Cat sighed and decided to follow.

Junior held the door open for the two of them. Paige eyed his plain black t-shirt,
khakis and flip-flops. “You’re wearing that? Is this a fancy place?”

Cat didn’t see what the problem was, but then again, she was a bit biased in favor
of t-shirts. She appreciated the professionalism exuded by her male colleagues in
fancy suits and ties. She’d covered charity golf outings surrounded by amateurs who
looked quite dapper in their collared polos and chinos. The pinstriped polyester jerseys
on the field could bring out a ballplayers’ stature like nothing else. The ballpark
days honoring policemen in heroic blue, firemen in daring red and military men in
valiant fatigues always got the female fans gushing. But for Cat, it all led back
to a short-sleeved cotton tee. As far as the male wardrobe went, there weren’t many
articles of clothing that could accentuate a man’s abs and pecs—and in Junior’s case,
arms—like a t-shirt.

“No, it’s right on the beach, very laid-back. The best in town, though.” He pointed
to a silver Maserati parked on the street. “This is me,” he said with an expectation
of gushing.

Paige played it cool with nothing more than a sharp nod.

Cat gave him a polite smile on her way into the tiny backseat. “Nice.”

It was nice … for two people, not three. She fidgeted on the red leather, pivoting
left and right, trying to find a place to put her slender legs. She opted for scooting
to the middle seat, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around her shins.

Junior pulled out of the parking lot. “If you guys want, I can take you by a few monuments
first—sort of a mobile tour of the city.”