Page 9 of Take Two

“That’s specific, and why eleven-thirty at night?” I ask.

“Because, Charlie, those PMS cravings are a mutha, and they come at the worst time.”

“Well, in that case, I’m getting out of bed and making her nachos. I’ll feed them to her and hold her in my arms afterwards.”

She inhales and lets out a deep breath. “That’s one lucky bitch,” she says. “I don’t even know her, and I’m kinda jealous.” I let out a laugh that takes me by surprise.

“Well, she doesn’t exist, so don’t waste your time bein’ jealous.”

I look up into her clear brown eyes. She smiles at me, and I find myself smiling back. Most of the tension I’ve been holding onto seems to have dissipated some. At least for tonight.

“I can’t imagine any woman would let you go,” she says. She seems shy now. She looks at me and quickly looks away. Part of me thinks she’s fishing for information about my past. I don’t waver in what to do next.

“Her name’s Holly,” I start slowly. “What little I remember about my last relationship—” I stop as I think of what to say next and sip my drink. I think she inches closer, but I don’t know if it’s so she can hear what I’m going to say next or if it’s to get close to me. I decide to go with the latter. “Don’t know if I can call it a relationship. Relationship makes it sound like we were exclusive, and we weren’t. At least I don’t think so. Anyway, she was a drunk too. That’s what we did together. We drank. We argued. Sometimes there was sex, but I was so out of it, I don’t remember any specifics. It was extremelytoxic. She had a son who was about ten, and social services took him away. I think that was her rock bottom. Last I heard she was in rehab, so I hope she’s doing well.” I hold my breath to hear what she says next. Suddenly, I feel like a loser for talking about such a tumultuous time in my life even though she’s the one who implied she might want to know.

“And there was no one before her?” She bites the side of her bottom lip and waits.

“A couple of random hookups, but nothing else. The only thing I cared about then was getting drunk, and lots of my life from the time I was eighteen until I was about thirty-one is a blur. I’m making different choices now,” I say, clearing my throat.

“Well, that’s all we can do. We learn from our mistakes, and we do better.” She puts her hand on my wrist like she did before. I decide to be bold and put mine on top of it. “There’s no point in beating yourself up about past mistakes. At least until someone invents a machine that allows us to go back in time.” She giggles and shakes her head. “That person will probably be my raggedy bitch of a sister, and she’ll do it only to make me look like a loser.”

I laugh along with her and wonder in what world anyone could think of her as a loser.

“You’re changing lives. You’re making people feel better about themselves and giving them confidence. You’re making people happy. That’s as far from a loser as anyone can be.”

She grins, and I realize she’s not pretty. No, she’s way beyond pretty. She’s beautiful, and from the time I’ve spent with her tonight, it’s not only on the outside.

“Now, who’s a motivational speaker?” she says. She looks into my eyes and blushes. Our hands are still touching. If they weren’t, I’d move closer and wait to see what she does next. Sheclears her throat and looks away. I drop my hands and stand before I make a complete fool out of myself.

“Thank you for offering me your ear, Violet, and for sharing a few laughs with me. I don’t remember the last time I did anythang like this,” I tell her. I don’t remember because it never happened. Drinking didn’t give me time to make friends either. At least friends who weren’t also stuck in a bottle. “I had no idea how much I needed to talk to someone. Thank you for the pizza and the mocktail. Tonight has been a pleasant surprise. Like I said, you’re sweet to listen to all the loser Charlie stories.”

She stands, clears her throat, and looks around the room. “You’re welcome, but I’m going to ask you not to call yourself a loser again. You’re a badass, remember?”

“Right. The zombie apocalypse, boar catchin’ hero.” She smiles again, and something in the room changes. Despite the efficient central air, the room becomes hotter. “I think it’s time I get goin’.”

“Um, you don’t have to, but let me walk you home,” she offers.

“Absolutely not. I would never let a lady walk me home. My mama would kill me if she found out. I promise I can find my way. Thanks again for this evenin’.” Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull her into a hug. I only mean for it to be one of those awkward hugs where our bodies barely touch, but I pull her against me, and her body molds into mine. She wraps her hands around me and looks into my eyes. She has perfectly plump lips. Perfect for kissing, but I push that idea out of my head and move away. “Good night.” I walk out without another word or glance.

Chapter 5

Charlie

It’s been a week since the Friday night I shared with Violet. I haven’t seen her since, though I know Vickie has been to her gym twice this week. I also know Violet will be here soon for Vickie’s personal session.

“Why are you all jumpy?” Colt asks. The sound of his voice takes me out of my own head. I jolt a little at his questionbecause I didn’t think anyone could sense my nerves. “And why do you keep looking at your reflection in the mirror?” I turn around to find him standing down the hall, watching me with his arms crossed. “You’ll break it with that mug,” he jokes.

“Why are you in my business?” I run my hand through my hair one more time and turn my face to look at my reflection from both sides before walking away from the mirror. I grin to myself when I remember how she called me handsome.

“I’m takin’ the boys to the park while Queen Vee works out. You comin’?” I look up to answer him, and he says, “Stop grinnin’ like that. You’ll scare the kids.”

If we were a different type of family, I’d give him the middle finger, but obscenity of any kind was unheard of in the house we grew up in. I decide to ignore his dig.

“I gotta. Who else is goin’ to show them how to pitch?” I ask my brother. He might be the professional, but I have always been the better athlete because I’m good at everything.

“Funny,” he says. “We’re going upstairs to Tara’s for dinner afterwards. You’re invited,” he throws in while he opens a closet and starts to pull out baseball equipment.

“I think I’ll pass. I have some work I need to do for the restaurant,” I tell him. “Inventory,” I throw in to make it more believable. It’s true, but it won’t take me more than thirty minutes. I don’t want to impose on my brother and his time with his in-laws. Vickie’s sister Tara lives in the penthouse upstairs, and the two women are very close. I don’t think a day goes by without them talking to each other.

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