Page 24 of Hard Hitter
“Yeah, thanks. Flight leaves at eight. So... seven?”
“I’ll take care of it.” The doorman gave them a friendly wave, and they proceeded through the grand lobby toward the elevators.
Ari had been to this building once before with Georgia, who had recently moved into Leo’s apartment. The turn-of-the-twentieth-century warehouse had been stylishly renovated into high-end condos. Several players lived here because it was close to the practice rink and a full-service building.
It was also expensive as hell.
This was the new Brooklyn. The old one—kids playing kick-the-can in the streets, and the funny little Italian men’s clubs on Court Street—it was disappearing fast. She was the last Bettini living in Brooklyn now.
In the posh elevator, with its brass button panel, O’Doul chose the fourth floor. When the doors opened, he gave her a funny smile. “I don’t usually have people over. So it’s...” he hesitated.
“A messy bachelor pad?” she guessed.
“Not exactly.”
When he opened the door, though, it was beautiful inside. The ceiling was high, and the exposed bricks glowed with a rosy hue against the lights he flipped on. There was no mess at all. The place hardly looked lived in.
“It’s all one room,” he apologized. “But you can have the bed.”
“You don’t have to do that.” His placewasall one room—but that room was the size of Grand Central station. “Your couch could seat a family of six. I’m just happy to...” she turned to him with a sigh. “Thank you. For chasing him off. This has been the most embarrassing night of my life.”
“Why?” He tossed his jacket onto a coat tree and reached for hers, which she shrugged off. “You didn’t throw a brick through your own window, right?”
“I just never thought I’d bethatgirl.” She let him remove her coat and hang it up. Then she crossed the big room and sat down on his sofa. “The one who needs a restraining order.”
“We need a drink, I think,” he said, and then smiled. “I don’t entertain. So there’s either Diet Coke or hard liquor. Scotch is my drink of choice. I’ll bring you both, and you can decide.” He moved toward the kitchen.
“I don’t drink diet sodas. That shit can kill you.”
O’Doul laughed. “If you feel the same about Scotch, don’t tell me.” He returned a minute later with a tray, two glasses with ice, a bottle of Macallan 18 and two bottles of water.He sat down beside her and poured Scotch into one of the glasses. “You’re in, right?”
“Hell yes.”
He handed her one of the glasses, and she took a deep breath of its peaty perfume. “God, I love that smell. So good.”
O’Doul gave her an approving nod. “I wouldn’t have picked you for a Scotch drinker.”
“Why? You think yoga teachers sit around drinking shots of kale juice?”
He snorted. “No. Okay, maybe. But you drink wine with Georgia.”
“I drink wine with Georgia because Georgia likes the company. And because it’s a habit. My ex didn’t think a lady should drink Scotch. He never offered me any of his.”Hell. The more she said about her relationship with Vince, the worse it sounded.
O’Doul shook his head, then held up his glass for a toast. “To your health, and to your ex taking a long walk off a short pier.”
She touched her glass to his and then took a nice deep sip.
He kicked off his shoes and propped his long legs onto the stylish coffee table. “So what made you finally kick him out?”
Ugh. This was even more embarrassing than the brick through the window. “He stopped being nice to me. But I hung on a long time hoping things would get better. He’d supported me when I wanted to go to school for massage therapy. So I told myself that I should be there for him even during the rough times, you know? I wanted to be loyal. It was my idea to let go of his high-rent place in the city and move into my uncle’s house when Uncle Alberto moved to Florida.”
“Nice house by the way.”
“Thanks. I pay ridiculously low rent in exchange for keeping the place up. But after we moved there, Vince just got mean. At first it was just petty criticism. He started insulting me in front of people we knew.” Another drink of Scotch helped wash the taste of that memory down.
O’Doul grimaced, as if fighting off the urge to make a comment.
“Then I got the job for the team, and heseemedhappy for me. At first. But I was gone a lot. Hehatedthat. He started questioning my whereabouts and acting like a jealous freak. I thought maybe things would turn around for him and he’d just ease up.” But it hadn’t happened. As she pictured their last night together, her throat began to close up. She took a gulp of Scotch. How long would it take before she stopped feeling so upset over this?
