Curveball (15 page)

Cat’s scrunched legs were already killing her but before she could say anything, Paige
piped up, “Let’s just get this over with so we can go to the game.” She looked out
the passenger side window.

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, he raised his eyebrows at Cat in the rearview mirror. “Have
you guys done much sightseeing yet?”

Cat waited for Paige to respond, but she remained silent. “Uh, well, not really. We’ve
been to the beach but that didn’t work out so great. I’d like to check out the Colonial
Zone.”

He nodded. “You should.” He glanced at Paige. “What about you, Paige? Anywhere you’d
like to go?”

She answered with another icy headshake, but warmed slightly when they pulled into
the parking lot. “Hey, I’ve been here before!” She turned to Cat, who was still cradling
her crouched legs like a backseat gargoyle. “We both have.”

“
La Tambora
.” Cat shook her head, chuckling.

Twice in one day.

At this rate, she’d be halfway through the menu by Saturday.

He put the car in park. “You have? Do you want to go somewhere else then?”

Paige shook her head, speaking for both of them. “Not on your life. If you think I’m
passing up the uh, what is it …
Dulce de Tres
something?”

“Leches.”

“Okay, leeches.”

He smiled when she said it.

She flapped her lashes at him. “If you think I’m passing up that little piece of heaven,
you’ve taken one too many baseballs to the head, Coach Junior.”

He grinned again and stepped out, hurrying around to her side to open their door.
Paige had already beat him to it and hopped out. She slammed it shut a second after
Cat crawled out and began stretching her legs.

He put his hands in his pockets. “That reminds me. About this
Junior
business, I should’ve said something to you both earlier ....”

Cat glanced around the restaurant’s parking lot, noting all the cars. A group of four
young women passed them and entered the restaurant. She frowned.

One less table.

If they had to wait to be seated, she was going to eat her shoes.

On second thought, Paige’s shoes. At least they aren’t imitation leather.

Paige shifted her feet and placed a hand on her hip. “Make it snappy, I’m starving.”

Cat smiled. If she could harness Paige’s unabashed rudeness for her own gain, she
could rule the world.

“I don’t really go by Junior anymore. Since graduation, everyone calls me Rob.”

“Rob?” Paige’s mouth began to twitch at the corners, as though a laugh were about
to burst out.

“Yes.” His eyes twinkled. “You didn’t really think my given name was Junior, did you?”

Paige didn’t answer; her attention was on an older couple who had passed them on the
way through the door. She turned to him with an impatient huff. “Yeah. I’m still gonna
call you Junior.” She tapped his cheek with her fingertips. “Let’s eat now.”

Paige turned on her heel. Cat gave Junior a feeble half-shouldered shrug and followed
her into the restaurant.

“Hmm.” Cat scanned the menu and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
“I can’t decide between the
Pescado del Día
or the
Arróz con Camarónes
. Give me a local’s opinion?” For Paige’s benefit she clarified, “Fish or shrimp.”

Junior’s hands were folded on top of his menu. “Easy. The
Pescado
.”

“The shrimp it is.” Paige said it without a hint of teasing. The reprieve she’d given
Junior in the parking lot was long gone and she was back to freezing him out. She
didn’t look up from her cell phone, where a pair of red shoes, no doubt the newest
arrivals in any designer too expensive for Cat’s collection, appeared on the screen.

He chuckled and Cat nervously joined in.

“Okay, I’m just going to clear the air here.” Cat closed her menu and sat it in front
of the empty chair’s place setting. “It’s one thing to be the third wheel; it’s another
to be the third wheel of a loose cannon on a rocking boat.”

Paige scoffed, her finger still shopping away on her phone. “Let’s throw one more
metaphor in there.”

Junior threw her an accusatory frown. “Be nice. She’s only uncomfortable because you’re
campaigning for ice queen instead of engaging in pleasant conversation.”

Paige finally ripped her eyes off the cell phone. “I’m the one who’s being rude? This
from the guy who wears a freaking t-shirt to dinner?”

“What do you care what I’m wearing?”

“Excuse me for not wanting to dine with a hobo.”

Roger Aiken may have made her a babysitter but Cat drew the line at mediator. Life
was too short to be this awkward. She scooted her chair back. “Why don’t I just let
you two work this out? I can get a cab to the stadium and I’ll grab something to eat
there.” Junior opened his mouth to protest and she waved it off. “It’s fine, really.
I actually like to get to games early and watch batting practice.”

“No McDee, if anyone should go, I should.” Paige leapt to her feet and charged the
exit, nearly taking out a waiter and his arm full of plates on her way.

Junior started to rise but Cat squeezed his arm to stop him. “I’ll go.”

She was glad to get out of the restaurant anyway. Paige’s behavior had created a scene
with the other diners, who were glancing at them surreptitiously over their wine glasses
and gossiping to their companions behind prissy fingertips.

“Paige, wait.” She caught up to her in the parking lot. The night had cooled since
the sun had gone down and she wished she’d grabbed a jacket. “What is going on between
you two?”

Paige crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes clouded with tears. “This whole dinner
idea was a mistake.”

Cat scoffed, folding her arms over one another. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“I just can’t believe he had to be
here
of all places. And you had to know him.”

“What do I—”

“You don’t. I already knew he was down here.” Paige walked over to a bench and sat
down. “I was hoping I could avoid him and then of all people who had to know him,
you did.”

“What’d he do to you?”

She took a deep breath and waited for Cat to sit down next to her. “Junior DeLeon—”
she sneered, “or
Rob
, is responsible for the worst memory of my life.”

A young couple walked past them and cast curious looks at the distressed Paige. Cat
bulged her eyes at them in her best “mind your own business” stare.

“He makes it sound like you two were a couple of peas.” Cat’s voice softened. “So
what happened to the pod?”

“My Junior memories aren’t so memorable.” Her voice began to tremble. “I remember
barfing up Cabernet Sauvignon and oysters in an airplane toilet the day after I lost
my v-card to him, the day after that I heard on ESPN that he moved across the country
and the day after that I never heard from him again.”

Junior’s voice boomed from behind them. “My dad got traded to LA! What was I supposed
to do?”

Paige whipped around, ready for the rebuttal like she’d practiced it in front of the
mirror every morning for the last eight years. “You could’ve sent an email. Said goodbye.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and directed her brimming eyes toward the parking
lot.

He stepped around to block her view. “You can’t tell me you’re still mad about something
that happened eight years ago.”

“Not mad. Hurt.”

He tipped his head back and rolled his eyes. “Something tells me you haven’t spent
all this time pining over me.” He raised an eyebrow. “And that something would be
every piece of gossip from here to Cooperstown.”

Cat scooted to the edge of the bench. Playing with fire was one thing, but Junior
was playing with fire
works
. She wasn’t about to have her thumbs blown off too.

“Excuse me?” Paige’s eyes flashed like a couple of Roman candles.

Cat dropped her head.
Kaboom
.

“The Soldiers’ pitching coach? The visiting clubhouse attendant? Half of last year’s
divisional series umpiring crew?”

Cat jerked her head up, surprised. The tabloids missed that last one.

“That wasn’t true! I had a drink with one umpire, only because we happened to be at
the same pub. Besides, it was during the regular season.”

“Oh, well then.” He gave her a sarcastic bow of the head. “Forgive me if I insulted
your virtue, Lady Aiken.”

“What do you care, anyway? Keeping tabs on me?” Paige did a poor job of hiding a pleasured
smirk.

“It’s been pretty hard to avoid. Your tabs have a way of coming up in my locker rooms.”

“Well, I’m allowed to have a life.”

“And I’m allowed to not be held responsible for stupid mistakes that I made as a teenager.”
His eyes assumed a soulful puppy-dog expression. “But you’re right and I’m sorry.
I should’ve called you or something.”

Paige continued to pout. “Maybe I’ve been a little harsh on you.” She pointed her
finger up sharply. “Not that you didn’t deserve it.”

“That’s fair.”

Her lips formed the slightest of smiles.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

They both turned to Cat with surprised gapes.

She didn’t doubt they’d forgotten she was there. She wasn’t sure which one was more
responsible for the throbbing in her temples.

“I feel like I just sat through a hundred and two minutes of
Casablanca
, only this time Rick shrugged and said, ‘What the hell, Ingrid? I got a fold-out
sofa. Why don’t ya stay?’“

Paige shrugged. “Well she should’ve.”

Cat gritted her teeth. “That’s not the point.” She inhaled deeply and exhaled a shaky
breath.

“Well what is, McDee? You’re looking a little too tightly wrapped.” Paige looked to
Junior for confirmation.

“My point is this little scene. That’s your sob story? The worst memory in your entire
life is a guy not calling back when you were in high school?”

She turned to Junior. “And you.”

He’d been watching with dancing eyes under furrowed, curious brows but they slowly
faded to a stall.

“You’re going to let her throw this little hissy in a restaurant parking lot because
you feel guilty that you acted like a sixteen-year-old boy when you were sixteen?”

Paige jutted her chin high and broke her eye contact. “It hurt my feelings.”

Cat laughed bitterly. “Whatever. Can we please eat dinner now, before I’m forced to
hear the tragic tale of the time Paige Aiken wasn’t invited to the seventh grade slumber
party?” She left them both on the bench and stormed back into the restaurant.

Cat was still glaring at the two of them when the waiter came over to their table—not
that either had taken their eyes off each other long enough to notice.

Junior shot Paige a devilish grin. “I think we’ll start off with a bottle of Cabernet
Sauvignon and oysters.” The waiter scribbled as he continued. “For our main course,
the lady and I will both be having the shrimp & saffron rice.” Paige started to object
but was silenced by his finger and dancing eyes. “And we’ll both finish with an order
of
Dulce de Tres Leches
.”

“Very good sir. I’ll return shortly with the wine.”

Cat watched in amazement as the waiter readied a turn on his heel. She raised her
hand and pointed down at herself. “Um, excuse me? This lady would like to eat, too.”

The waiter stopped and looked at Junior, who cringed. He turned back to Cat. “Of course,
forgive me.”

She handed him her menu. “I’ll have the
Arróz con Camarónes,
too.”

The waiter nodded and left the table.

Paige’s pouty lips parted into a flirty smile directed at Junior. “I thought you said
fish was the best thing here. You tricked me.”

He winked. “Your playbook hasn’t changed in eight years.”

Apparently, Paige’s flirty smile was here to stay. Cat considered pulling out a chair
for it.

Paige added a giggle. “Not that I’ll be obliging your name change, but what’s up with
Rob?”

Putting her annoyance aside, Cat nodded. “I was actually wondering that, too.”

The waiter approached hesitantly with the bottle of wine. He uncorked it and Junior
waved him off, opting to pour their glasses himself. He handed them each a glass.

“Well, my dad’s great and all but when I got into coaching I decided to try and distance
myself from being Roberto DeLeon’s junior. I just don’t want anybody saying I owe
everything to my dad, you know?”

Paige took a big gulp of the red wine. “Oh.”

Junior scanned her face and frowned. “Did I say something wrong again?”

Cat stifled a laugh, though not before a small chuckle emerged. She put her hand to
her mouth and cleared her throat.

Paige shook her head. “Not at all. I think that’s very … admirable.” She forced a
smile and avoided Cat’s barbed stare.

Cat took a second to enjoy the show before bringing her attention back to Junior.
“So what happened, anyway? I thought you were on your way to becoming an All Star
yourself?”

He groaned. “Right after you graduated, I screwed up my knee in a nasty collision
in a play at the plate. My kneecap was dislocated, the cartilage was damaged and the
medial collateral ligament was, as the doc put it, shredded. I went through a couple
of surgeries but it just wasn’t the same.”

He looked back and forth between the two of them, making sure they were paying attention.
Cat nodded to let him know she was.

“So, I had to get serious. I changed my major from undeclared to kinesiology and after
an internship with the Soldiers, I got offered a position as the hitting coach at
the training camp here.” He gave Paige an acknowledging half-smile. “Trying to teach
’em to slug like ol’ Rakin’ Aiken.”

Paige didn’t respond.

Cat chimed in for her. “Against pitchers like Roberto de Fuego, huh?”

“It kills my dad.” He chuckled. “What about you two?” He turned to Paige. “I always
knew Cat was a baseball nut but I figured you for a career in fashion or … I don’t
know, marrying a CEO.”