want to keep her waiting. She might change her mind and then I’ll be kicking myself from here to next week for not getting my ass out the door sooner.
“You sure you’re not interested in Gabbi? I could call her. Tell her to come back. Or have her meet you at the hotel.” Keith has his hand on my shoulder like we’re best buds. He’s been pimping this girl out to me all night, but I’m not interested. I have someone much better right outside the door, if I could only get out of this damn tiki bar.
“Nah, that’s all right, man. I’m beat. I think I’m just going to call it a night. But thanks for the hospitality. How much do I owe you?” I draw my wallet out of my back pocket, but Keith holds up his hands.
“Yeah, right. Like I’m going to charge a future Hall of Famer. Put your money away. It’s no good here.”
“C’mon, I insist.”
“Forget about it. It’s on the house.” Keith slaps me on the back so hard that the jolt sends vibrations through my aching knee. There’s nothing I hate worse than being held hostage by someone who doesn’t want to let me go. Enough is enough. My time away from the field should be my own, but it sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes.
“Later, man.” I shake Keith’s hand before stepping outside as he tags along behind me.
“I don’t see Noah around. What’s he driving anyway?” Keith peers over my shoulder, scanning the few vehicles that remain.
I don’t know how I’m going to talk my way out of this. Luckily, the waitress who nearly dumped a tray of silverware on me happens to walk out of the kitchen at that exact moment. Surprised to find us standing there, she looks like she wants to bolt. Scared shitless, she hurries by us with her head down and escapes into the bar area, her braids swaying behind her. I feel bad because I think I keep freaking her out. I should have offered to pick up the scattered forks and knives, but I froze. Instead, I was fixated on that head of luscious ebony hair I was dying to run my fingers through. When the silverware hit the floor, I was too caught up in my daydream before the guy at the bar beat me to the punch.
“I’m going to give that girl a piece of my mind,” Keith fumes, hustling after her. “No way is she going to get away with that stunt she pulled earlier. She needs to apologize to you. Let me go get her. Luanne, come back here. Luanne!”
But I don’t stick around. This is my chance, and I’m taking it. I charge down the wooden steps, my feet clomping against the boards. I don’t stop until I’m standing in the middle of the nearly empty lot. Where is she? Did she leave? Am I too late? I turn around in a circle and try to look inside the darkened cars. It’s too quiet. I’m not used to such stillness after growing accustomed to the never-ending racket of Manhattan.
I just wish I knew her name. I could call out to her. I even learned the damn waitress’s name after hearing Keith yell at her. I run my hand across my brow, knowing that if anyone’s watching, I must look like an idiot. Is this what she wants? To make me work for it after what I did to her?
I bend my head and listen to the crickets chirping next to the moat at the far edge of the property. With a working drawbridge and lighthouse tower, it looks like part of a miniature golf course. Keith’s family certainly extended their brand of tackiness to the outdoor landscaping. They sure know how to make an impression for all the wrong reasons. I can’t believe I signed that menu for him. He’ll probably put it on the wall next to the ones autographed by Pee Wee Herman and Weird Al Yankovic.
I amble backward, closing my eyes when I hear a faint murmur from the far side of the building. It sounds like a bunch of animated voices, and I pick up fragments of my name through the intermittent bursts of conversation. Shit, there must be a pack of fans waiting to pounce. They didn’t give up. They’re still around—probably Jimmy and his gang.
“You sure you’re not interested in Gabbi? I could call her. Tell her to come back. Or have her meet you at the hotel.” Keith has his hand on my shoulder like we’re best buds. He’s been pimping this girl out to me all night, but I’m not interested. I have someone much better right outside the door, if I could only get out of this damn tiki bar.
“Nah, that’s all right, man. I’m beat. I think I’m just going to call it a night. But thanks for the hospitality. How much do I owe you?” I draw my wallet out of my back pocket, but Keith holds up his hands.
“Yeah, right. Like I’m going to charge a future Hall of Famer. Put your money away. It’s no good here.”
“C’mon, I insist.”
“Forget about it. It’s on the house.” Keith slaps me on the back so hard that the jolt sends vibrations through my aching knee. There’s nothing I hate worse than being held hostage by someone who doesn’t want to let me go. Enough is enough. My time away from the field should be my own, but it sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes.
“Later, man.” I shake Keith’s hand before stepping outside as he tags along behind me.
“I don’t see Noah around. What’s he driving anyway?” Keith peers over my shoulder, scanning the few vehicles that remain.
I don’t know how I’m going to talk my way out of this. Luckily, the waitress who nearly dumped a tray of silverware on me happens to walk out of the kitchen at that exact moment. Surprised to find us standing there, she looks like she wants to bolt. Scared shitless, she hurries by us with her head down and escapes into the bar area, her braids swaying behind her. I feel bad because I think I keep freaking her out. I should have offered to pick up the scattered forks and knives, but I froze. Instead, I was fixated on that head of luscious ebony hair I was dying to run my fingers through. When the silverware hit the floor, I was too caught up in my daydream before the guy at the bar beat me to the punch.
“I’m going to give that girl a piece of my mind,” Keith fumes, hustling after her. “No way is she going to get away with that stunt she pulled earlier. She needs to apologize to you. Let me go get her. Luanne, come back here. Luanne!”
But I don’t stick around. This is my chance, and I’m taking it. I charge down the wooden steps, my feet clomping against the boards. I don’t stop until I’m standing in the middle of the nearly empty lot. Where is she? Did she leave? Am I too late? I turn around in a circle and try to look inside the darkened cars. It’s too quiet. I’m not used to such stillness after growing accustomed to the never-ending racket of Manhattan.
I just wish I knew her name. I could call out to her. I even learned the damn waitress’s name after hearing Keith yell at her. I run my hand across my brow, knowing that if anyone’s watching, I must look like an idiot. Is this what she wants? To make me work for it after what I did to her?
I bend my head and listen to the crickets chirping next to the moat at the far edge of the property. With a working drawbridge and lighthouse tower, it looks like part of a miniature golf course. Keith’s family certainly extended their brand of tackiness to the outdoor landscaping. They sure know how to make an impression for all the wrong reasons. I can’t believe I signed that menu for him. He’ll probably put it on the wall next to the ones autographed by Pee Wee Herman and Weird Al Yankovic.
I amble backward, closing my eyes when I hear a faint murmur from the far side of the building. It sounds like a bunch of animated voices, and I pick up fragments of my name through the intermittent bursts of conversation. Shit, there must be a pack of fans waiting to pounce. They didn’t give up. They’re still around—probably Jimmy and his gang.
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