Page 46 of For the Boys
“Hi, Brent.” Was that a smile in her voice he detected? “What’s up?”
“Well…” Brent hesitated.
“Yes?” she prompted.
“I’m calling because I was hoping you would go out with me.”
“Like on a date?”
“Yes, like on a date.”
“Just me and you?”
“Yes, just me and you.”
“Sure,” Berkley said. “When?”
Brent silently fist-pumped, certain his excitement shone in his voice when he said, “How’s Wednesday?”
Papers rustled on the other end of the phone, followed by some clicking, before Berkley responded. “Wednesday is perfect. Where are we going? What should I wear?”
“Where I’m taking you is a surprise,” he told her, knowing she was probably rolling her eyes at him. “But dress nice.”
“You know I hate surprises, but you’ve got yourself a date, Mr. Jean.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he told her sincerely. He had been looking forward to it for a very, very long time.
“Me too,” she said almost shyly. “And, Brent?”
“Yeah, Berkley?”
“Thank you for finally asking me,” she said, then hung up.
Brent held his phone to his chest, allowing himself a moment to stare dreamily out at the lit-up Detroit skyline beyond his windows.
Then he got to work.
He was finally going on a date with his dream girl, and everything had to be perfect.
Berkley had offered to meet Brent for their date, but he had refused. This was a first date, hopefully his last, and he was doing everything strictly by the book.
Wednesday evening, he drove his truck along Woodward toward Grand Circus Park in the direction of Berkley’s building. There were only about six blocks between her place and his, his closer to the river and hers nearer to Comerica Park and Ford Field.
Her building was relatively new construction, made from a lot of metal and glass. A parking lot filled with marked spaces for the tenants was wrapped around the building. He pulled his truck into a space marked VISITOR and made his way up to her floor, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
On the drive over, he’d had to regularly remind himself to breathe, and he hadn’t been able to stop nervously drumming on the steering wheel. He genuinely couldn’t believe he was about to take Berkley out on their first date. If somebody would’ve told him a few months ago that this was going to happen, he would’ve thought they were crazy. Brent wasn’t a shy person, and he wasn’t afraid to be singled out in front of large groups of people. His career as a professional athlete was certainly a testament to that. But something about Berkley had always tripped him up, turning him back into that awkward twelve-year-old boy about to ask the girl he had a crush on to a dance for the first time.
He reached Berkley’s door and paused to collect himself. He wiped his sweaty palms on his dress pants, inhaled a steadying breath, and knocked. A loud bang sounded through the wall, and a few seconds later, Amelia opened the door. Kimber was sprawled out on the floor behind her.
“Hi, Brent,” Amelia said, sounding out of breath. She moved and let him inside.
“Hi…” he said, taking in the scene. Berkley lived alone, so he had been unprepared to be confronted with the cavalry.
Kimber got up off the floor, rubbing her right side. “Bitch hip-checked me to get to the door first,” she said by way of explanation.
Brent raised an eyebrow at Amelia, who merely shrugged in response.
“Are those for Berk?” Kimber asked, motioning to the flowers.
