Page 39 of The Battery
Leo:No strings. Really. I mean it. Could use some company today.
How could I reject that?
*
I didn’t want to be outside unless it was by a pool. Thankfully, Leo’s house had one and I came fully prepared. It would mark the first time I actually wore a swimsuit, which was an interesting factoid when I thought about it. I brought one in my backpack, as well as a change of clothes and my baseball glove. I wore casual, khaki shorts, a gray tank top, and flip-flops. Of course, I sported the designer shades Leo had gifted me. I forewent the cologne, though.
I rang the doorbell. That marked the first time I had done that, as well. Every time I visited, I went through the back gate. I didn’t know if he still wanted me to do that, but I wanted to set a new precedent. For a moment I feared it might be too invasive, since he had never invited me to the upstairs of his house before.
Leo pulled the door open. Shirtless. Wearing only a pair of army-green, mesh shorts,too short, that left little to the imagination. A backward black ball cap completed the look. My eyes dipped down, then back up and I was thankful for the reflective lenses of my shades.
“Mr. Spartan,” I said with a smile and lifted my sunglasses.
“Har-har. Come in,” he said as he stepped aside.
I kicked off my sandals at the door, then Leo led me beneath an archway sitting atop a pony wall. Beyond the foyer, an unlit chandelier hung at the center of a three-quarter turn, a long spiral stair leading to the second floor. I wanted to stop and appreciate it, but he kept walking, going beneath the center of the stairs, down a short hallway, and into a kitchen carved from white marble and white-stained wood. I almost dropped my shades back on my nose.
He walked with a strange swagger. Showing off? I couldn’t tell. He didn’t need to. Not anymore, at least. I still ogled at the length of those shorts. So ridiculous.
“Ready to hit the sauce?” he asked. It should have sounded amusing and fun, but from Leo’s Unchanging Tone, it sounded serious and slightly mean.
I looked at the smartwatch on my wrist. We hadn’t hit noon. But, we had the next five days off, and All-Stars would be the only break for a while.
“Fuck it. Why not?”
“Party boy, here we go,” he said again with that colorless tone, like he was judging me. “I’ve got lite beer or vodka.”
I balked as I sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island the size of my car. “Like, straight vodka?”
“Too many calories if you mix it with stuff.”
“You… just… drink vodka? Like, on the rocks?”
He reached into a beverage fridge hidden beneath the island on his side. He pulled out a frosted glass bottle of top-shelf vodka. From the cabinet, he pulled two stainless steel tumblers and filled them each with a sphere of ice that fit perfectly. He poured what I figured to be two shots. In mine, he squeezed a bit of lemon and dropped in the juiced slice.
“Sip it,” he commanded. “This isn’t a race. Cheers.”
“Cheers.” We clicked the cups. He regarded me over the rim of his glass while I took my first careful sip.
Nearly spat it out.Holy hell that was terrible.Citrus rubbing alcohol. I choked it down and made a face.
And he smiled. That crooked one I had only seen twice. A wave of amorous heat washed over me.
This friendship thing is gonna suck.
Leo took a second sip, then placed the glass on the counter. “Let’s throw for a bit. The game doesn’t start for another two hours.”
I tried the vodka again. Still burned. Still awful. But I didn’t pull a face. Leo reached back into the beverage fridge and extracted a can of raspberry lime seltzer, then slid it across the countertop to me.
“Chaser,” he said.
I popped the top and slugged back a quarter of the can. I was gonna need more.
“A party!” came a voice from the hallway next to the kitchen. I spun to see an older man standing there with the aid of a tennis ball-capped walker. He wore loose fitting pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved flannel top. His body was thin and frail, skin sallow.A horseshoe of buzzed gray hair encircled his head. Heavy bags under his eyes set beneath chevron eyebrows I recognized.
“Uncle Andy,” Leo said in a new tone. Exasperated. He left the kitchen island and went immediately to the man as if he were about to fall over. “Thought you weren’t awake.”
“Hey, I’m not deadyet. Especially when there’s a party.” He also had the same resonate bass as someone I knew, only his was more animated. Like something Leowouldsound like if he allowed himself to feel emotions. “Who’s this, now?”
