Curveball (6 page)

La Tambora
was the typical frat boy foreplay establishment she figured Paige was used to: casual
dress and deep-fried appetizers meets white tablecloths and showy wine lists. It didn’t
take her long to spot Paige. The devilish diva lit up the dark restaurant in her red
dress with her ridiculous hair, now pulled back so tightly into a beauty queen chignon
that Cat thought the synthetic lashes would pop right off her eyelids. Cat charged
toward Paige and eyed the pretty boy sitting across the table, making sure that her
eyes bulged for effect.

“THIS is your business meeting?”

Paige looked up from her menu. She choked back a snort of laughter and quickly covered
her mouth. “I don’t remember ordering a sea hag.”

A flush crawled across Cat’s body, warming her chilly, wet skin. She tucked a wet
strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s raining.”

“It does that about once a day here.” The man rose from his chair and stuck out his
hand. “Chance Hayward.”

Cat stared at his hand without taking it. “Cat McDaniel.”

“And I’m Paige Aiken. Now that we’re all acquainted, McDee, sit down. You look like
you could use a drink.”

Chance pulled out her chair and she reluctantly plopped down. He studied her as he
shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap, then redirected his gaze back toward
Paige.

“Wait a minute. Aiken? You’re not related to Rakin’ Aiken, the slugger from the nineties,
are ya?”

“That’s my dad.”

There was a proud gleam in her eyes as she said it. Cat was glad to see that Paige
knew she had won the dad lottery.

Chance tossed his head back, letting out a hearty laugh. “You’re the daughter from
all the papers. The one that the heiresses say is too wild to hang out with?”

The proud gleam passed over as quickly as the afternoon squall. While the rain had
introduced an island sunset, the gleam was merely the opening act for a naughty twinkle.
The corners of Paige’s lips curled into a sneaky smile. “That was my twenty-first
birthday party. And for the record, I didn’t know we were skinny dipping in the Lincoln
Memorial Reflecting Pool.” Paige picked up her champagne flute. “I thought we were
just at one of the girl’s new hotels.”

Chance chortled again and picked up his flute, holding it up to hers. “I’ll drink
to that.” Paige clinked his glass and took a long drink of the champagne.

Cat watched the two with disgust. “Champagne? Really?” She turned to Paige. “Our flight
landed not four hours ago.”

Paige shrugged. “I work fast.”

Cat snorted. “That’s almost exactly how I’d put it.”

Before Paige could retort, Chance chimed in. “We’re celebrating.” He filled the third
flute and pushed it toward Cat. “Come on, join us.”

Cat reached for the flute and tossed back a swig. It’d only been eight hours since
she clocked into Paige duty and already she’d been driven to drink. As she swallowed,
she cursed the champagne for being delicious. “So what are we celebrating anyway?”

Chance refilled his own glass. “Our meeting, of course. All three of us in the sports
industry? It must’ve been fate.”

“And it’s great!” Paige giggled and slammed her glass down, the pale liquid swishing
from side to side from the rough landing.

“Let’s not mistake fate for coincidence.” Cat pushed a glass of ice water toward Paige.
“And you, don’t mistake champagne for water.” She didn’t want her eleventh hour of
duty to be holding Paige’s hair back over a public toilet.

Chance stuck his hand out to stop a young busboy passing their table. “Cristian, you
don’t say hi?”

Cat recognized him from the alley.

The busboy smiled bashfully. “Oh s-sorry Mr. Hayward. We’re not really supposed to
talk to the customers.”

Chance waved it off. “They’ll make an exception with me.” He pointed across the table.
“These are my friends, Paige and Cat. They’re new to our island.”

Paige tossed him a flirty smile. Cat gave him a short but sweet, “Hola.”

The busboy smiled at both of them but said nothing.

“Cristian Encarnación here is one of my top clients.”

“Wait, so you really are an agent?” Cat had assumed that was another lie, courtesy
of Paige.

Paige raised her eyebrows at her and assumed an indignant tone. “Of course he is.”

Cat focused back on the busboy, who shifted his weight nervously and looked around
the packed restaurant. “What position do you play?”

“I am a pitcher.” His narrowed eyes skirted around the restaurant again. “Mr. Hayward,
I really should get back to work.”

Chance followed his worried gaze to the corner booth and cleared his throat. “All
right, kid. Talk to you later.”

Cat frowned as he hurried off. “Nice meeting you …” Before she could finish he was
already on the other end of the restaurant. She shook her head at Chance. “So, is
he any good?”

“Hm?”

“Cristian. How’s his arm?”

Chance’s own eyes darted around the room like two trapped birds. “Yeah he’s got real
potential.” The flurry stopped and settled on a focal point behind her.

Cat turned around in her seat and looked around, half expecting from his intense stare
to see a small kitchen fire. She saw nothing but a typical beachside restaurant, lobster
tank and all. “Is everything okay?”

Chance grimaced. “I know this is terribly rude, but would you ladies excuse me for
just a moment?”

“Um … okay.”

He jumped out of his seat and beelined to the back hallway. Cat watched him with curiosity
until she saw the restroom signs.

“Ah.”

Paige followed her gaze. “Guess someone had too much bubbly.” She took another swallow
from her own flute.

The waiter had brought their entrees five minutes earlier and Chance still had not
returned to the table. Paige whipped out her napkin and placed it on her lap.

“That’s it.” She reached for her fork. “I like cold shrimp on a cocktail plate but
not when it’s in paella.”

Cat stirred her spoon in her Sancocho and took a small slurp to keep the spicy soup
from burning her tongue. She saw the busboy heading back her way and waved him over.

“May I help you?”

She held her index finger up as she swallowed. “Sorry.” She gave him a sheepish smile
and blotted at her mouth with the burgundy napkin. “Cristian, right?”

“Yes,
señorita
.”

She pushed out Chance’s chair with her foot. “Sit and talk to us for a minute.”

He shook his head. “Oh, I should not. I am working.”

“You get breaks, don’t ya?” Paige said.

He gingerly sat down in the chair and placed his bus tray on the floor. “Where’s Mr.
Hayward?”

“No idea, but we’re bored and something tells me you’re the best guy here for talking
baseball,” Cat said.

“You both like baseball?”

They smiled in unison.

“You could say that.” Paige winked at Cat.

Cat studied him. Sitting, the boy was almost as tall as she was standing on her tippy
toes. His defined shoulders were prominent even under his oversized dress shirt. His
outstretched legs barely fit under the table. Cristian was definitely a pitcher.

“So are you any good?”

“My fastball hits ninety-two.” He beamed.

“You got any other pitches?”

“A high seventies curve and a low eighties changeup.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You know, we work with a scout for the Buffalo Soldiers.”

Cristian’s eyes grew round the minute she said
scout
and rivaled the dinner plate by the time
Soldiers
had left her lips. “
¿Y es verdad?
”

She smiled. “I’m not kidding you. Why don’t you let me talk to your agent and see
if we can set something up?”

Cristian rattled something in Spanish too fast for her to translate before stopping
himself. “You would do this?”

“Hey.” Paige took a bite of her dinner roll. She took her time chewing and swallowed
with a gulp of water. “How’d you learn to speak such good English?”

He gestured around. “Here. A lot of tourists come in and I picked up.”

“I don’t like it.” Paige sat back in her chair with her glass in her hand. “You’re
making me look bad. All I can say is
margarita
.”

A laugh escaped his lips but was silenced when his dancing eyes caught the attention
of something behind her. He stood up. “I have to return to work now.”

Chance approached the table just as Cristian rushed off with his bus tray. He gave
him a pat on the shoulder as he passed.

“I am so sorry.”

Paige pointed to her clean plate. “I didn’t wait.”

“Nor should you have.” He grabbed his fork and sliced into the side of a
chulito
on his plate.

Cat turned around and surveyed the restaurant. Again, nothing but tables full of tourists
and businessmen greeted her gaze. “Everything okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” Chance nodded and finished chewing. “Business. I ran into a colleague and
we got to talking. It’s rude, I know. But that’s how business is done down here and
even more in the sports industry. Lawyers conduct their dealings on golf courses,
agents conduct theirs in bars.” He chuckled and continued on his plate.

Cat exchanged a bemused look with Paige and reached for her own glass of champagne.

As they walked out of the restaurant, Cat caught the eye of a busy Cristian and waved
goodbye. She tapped Chance on the shoulder. “That reminds me, we want to talk to you
about your client.”

“Oh, that’ll cost you and Paige.”

Cat gave him a wary look. “Cost us what?”

“A walk on the beach.” He extended both arms. “One for each of you.”

Paige eagerly locked her right arm with his, but Cat pressed his left arm down to
his side. She kicked off her sandals and let them dangle from her fingers before begrudgingly
following the duo onto the damp sand.

A few fisherman could be seen on the jetty a hundred yards away, but otherwise they
had the beach to themselves. Her steps broke the moist clumps and the powdery sand
spilled out over her toes. The sand massaged her soles as they moved closer to the
breaking waves. Living in downstate Illinois most of her life, Cat didn’t take the
relaxing sound of the oceanic thunder for granted. The soft wind whipped her skirt
around her thighs. As they approached the shoreline, the restaurant odors of garlic
and grease were replaced with a salty tinge of sea air. The half moon smiled down
upon them. It was a perfect moment, until Chance spoke.

“Not bad, huh?”

He said it as though he was taking credit for the beautiful evening. Cat sneered in
his direction but it was too dark for the message to be received.

Paige looked around the vacant beach. “There’s nobody here. Is it always like this
at night?”

“Almost. We’re just about at the end of our rainy season so the beaches will be busier.
But on weeknights, most of the action is in town.”

Their stroll was nearing the rocks that bordered the end of the beach and led out
to the jetty. Cat pointed up at the fisherman. “What are they trying to catch?”

Chance shrugged. “Hell if I know. I only eat it; I don’t hunt it.”

Paige watched them thoughtfully. “My dad loves fishing. Says it’s the only true way
to get away from the field.”

“Let’s sit for a minute.” He placed his jacket on the sand.

Cat shook her head. “I’m good with standing. I was hoping we could talk about Cristian.”

Chance sat on the sand with his knees in front of him. “We will.” He patted the jacket.
“Paige?”

Paige tucked her dress beneath her thighs as she sat on it, facing the ocean.

He scooted closer to her. “What do you think?”

Paige’s eyes didn’t leave the water. “Of the ocean, dinner, or you?”

He chuckled. “All of the above.”

Cat held in a groan as she waited for his predictable moves, expecting the yawn and
reach any minute now.

He didn’t yawn, but sure enough, his tan arm slivered around Paige’s bare shoulders.

“Hm …” Paige tapped her chin thoughtfully. “The ocean is beautiful. Dinner was delicious.
And you, well you kind of pale in comparison. Perhaps you should’ve grouped yourself
with the fisherman and that weird pile of seaweed over there.”

With his phony chuckles, Chance was beginning to sound like the laugh track from an
eighties sitcom. Cat tapped her foot on the sand, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Paige tossed him a playful smile, but then was distracted by the aforementioned pile
of seaweed near the jetty. She cocked her head. “What is that?”

In tandem, Cat and Chance turned around. “What?”

Paige stood up, dusted her dress off and pointed. “Over there, in the rocks.”

Chance squinted. “Probably just some litter.”

Cat shook her head. “That doesn’t look like litter.” She took off toward it.

Chance bounced to his feet and caught up to her. The waves smacked the rocks with
loud slaps. Cat took slow, deliberate steps, as though trying to sneak up on the mound
of seaweed. Another foamy wave crashed onto the shore, this time taking the pile of
seaweed back into the ocean with it. Before she could take another step, Chance reached
his arm out to stop her. “Cat, don’t go any closer.”

Cat gasped, choking on the breath wedged in her throat. It was too late.

She’d seen the body.

Cat wiggled out of Chance’s grip and approached the sprawled corpse.

“Oh my God.” She shook her head and tried to look away but found herself taking yet
another step to confirm what she already knew. “It’s a
person
.”

Chance pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and within seconds was franticly speaking
Spanish to the other end.
“¡Emergencia! ¡Novecientos Once!”

Paige caught up to them. “What’s going—” Her scream tore through the eerie howl of
wind and waves. She backed away, covering her eyes.

The fisherman dropped their poles and ran down the jetty.

Cat kept walking. She was within reaching distance of it. Her heart sank. It wasn’t
an
it
at all. It was a
he
.