The Sweet Spot (All About the Diamond #1)

by Naomi Springthorp

  If anyone has the power to fix us, it’s him.

  The limo is waiting for me when I get there. The driver opens the door for me. “I thought the guy didn’t trust me, but now I understand why he wants a picture. You look amazing. If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you out alone.”

  “You’re kind, but I’m not the one paying you and tipping you,” I say laughing.

  “It’s a pleasure to drive a beauty like you. Where will we be stopping to take your photo?” he asks.

  “I’d like you to take my photo out on the Embarcadero South and in front of the Batter Up. Will that be okay?” I ask.

  “Absolutely, whatever you want,” and he takes off toward downtown.

  I jump out of the limo when we get to the Embarcadero and the driver quickly snaps a few pictures. We arrive at the Batter Up a few minutes later and the driver takes my picture with the limo in front of the sports bar. My phone vibrates as I walk into the Batter Up and sign in:

  Text from Rick - You’re so fucking gorgeous, perfect for your finals. I miss your face.

  I sign in and get the specifics for tonight. Mike with the Mic is drawing names and calling us out to sing our round one songs. There are only five of us, so round one should take less than 50 minutes. Nothing has changed because it’s the finals, except a few signs and they're charging a cover at the door. We’re starting about ten minutes late, so Mike has time to review the game plan with the crowd in the bar tonight.

  I go to the ladies room to check my hair and make-up, make sure everything is where it belongs. Then I wait behind the curtain. A few minutes later, everything gets started.

  “Good evening, guys and gals! I’m Mike with the Mic and I’ll be your karaoke host tonight. Now, tonight is not just any karaoke night. We have only five competitors left in our competition and tonight are the three final rounds. The first round each contestant will be singing two songs that are both upbeat and current. One will be originally recorded as a male vocal and the other will be originally recorded as a female vocal. Only three of our finalists will advance to round two. Each finalist will sing one song for round two and it’s a song of their choice. Our top two finalists will advance to the third and final round. The final round will be a wild card round. Each finalist will be given a choice of three songs after they get on stage. They have no idea what the song choices are, and I don’t either. The winner tonight gets bragging rights, $1,000, free food and drinks at Batter Up for a year, their picture on the wall and a recording of your performances will be sent to record producers just for giggles. Our performers are in random order tonight. Relax and enjoy the show, we’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

  There are only five of us waiting behind the curtain tonight. It’s a bit crazy, and from the sound of it the place is packed tonight. I wait my turn.

  “Let’s get things rolling. Tonight we’re starting with Sherry! Sherry will be singing “Ex’s & Oh’s” by Elle King as her song recorded as a female vocal and then “Love Runs Out” by OneRepublic as her song recorded by a male vocal. Please welcome Sherry to the stage!” The audience is into it tonight and the applause is wild.

  I step up onto the new stage, feeling it sturdy beneath my feet and realize the milk crate has been replaced with an actual stair step. The stage no longer has pieced together plywood tripping hazards built into it. It’s one solid piece and slightly larger than before. I take a deep breath and wait for “Ex’s & Oh’s” to start. I channel my inner diva and let it rip with a strut in my attitude. I can’t help but to slowly shimmy my hips and swing my shoulders from side to side with the music. It’s how the song should be sung and how I need to sing it if I have any hope of making it through not only to the competition finals, but with my emotions in check. I don’t want to lose it, and my competitive spirit doesn’t want to lose either. I listen to the bass beat roll through. I adopt the strut in my stance and in my voice. The lyrics aren’t me, but they’re empowering and give me the hope that I’m wanted. I want Rick to want me, I want him to come back for more. The attitude is fun and sexy, if not a bit dark and gives me a chance to show a different side of my singing.

  The whole place goes crazy. “Great job, Sherry! You really owned that! Next song is “Love Runs Out” by OneRepublic and I can’t wait to see what Sherry can do with it!”

  I take my leather jacket off and toss it to the side of the stage, showing more skin. I scan the room while I wait for the pounding bass intro to get to the words and I see some of the Seals in the back. Then the lyrics hit and I’m on it with exact timing. I let every bit of tension I’ve had bottled up out in the lyrics. I’m completely taken over by the pounding rhythmic beat and hear the intense voice of Ryan Tedder in my head as I sing. Singing the lyrics, I realize I’m not giving up on us. We’ll work it out and I’ll take whatever I can get. I was right in the beginning to follow my heart. I’m in this until I’m beyond road rash, I’ll be roadkill before I let go. Our love won’t run out. The words are honest and from my soul, even if they aren’t mine. The heat, desire, devotion of the song, it all beats in my heart and drives me to sing with power.

  The crowd is wild, clapping and hooting. Mike starts in, “Sherry just raised the bar for this competition, ladies and gentlemen. Sherry, please wait for the other contestants to perform backstage. I have a feeling you’ve made it to round two!”

  I go backstage, noticing it hadn’t been upgraded like Mike had hoped and wait impatiently for the other four singers to do their thing. I check my messages:

  Text from Mom – Good luck tonight sweetheart. Have fun at your singing thing.

  Text from Sam – Good luck tonight! I know you’ll rock it!

  Text from Rick - You're amazing. You continue to shock me.

  Text to Rick - How do you know?

  Text from Rick - I’m with the guys in the back. I’m staying out of sight. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I know you don’t want to talk to me and I’m trying to give you time, but I couldn’t miss this. It’s too important to you. If you want me to, I’ll leave.

  Text to Rick - You should stay. So, you're really here?

  Text from Rick - Yes. I’m staying. You’re absolutely gorgeous and your attitude on stage is unbelievable. Maybe we can talk after?

  Text to Rick - Maybe

  I’m a strong independent woman. I don’t need a man, I just want one. A specific man that fills the catcher position on a professional baseball team… Damn it!

  I need to be ready to tell Mike what my round two song is if I advance. I want to send a message with the song, kind of my invitation to fix us. I can’t believe he’s here. I get some hot tea to keep my voice warm and try to relax, but my nerves are on end. I don’t know if I can manage this multiple round thing. Who am I kidding? The truth is it’s his presence in the building making me feel so raw. I want him. The last contestant walks back behind the curtain. Nobody got applause like I did and I wait anxiously for Mike to announce who will advance, but mostly for the opportunity to see Rick’s face.

  “What do you think of our finalists tonight?” Mike asks the crowd and gets a loud cheer in return. “I’m going to call out the names of our top three finalists and they will join me on stage. Our first finalist is Sherry!” and I have no idea what he said after that. It was a complete blur as I heard the team start chanting Sherry, Sherry, Sherry, Sherry.

  “Sherry will be singing first in the second round. Sherry what is your song choice?”

  ““Come Home” by OneRepublic,” I tell Mike with the Mic. I need my Rick to come home.

  As he gets the song queued up and the music starts, “This is for Rick and you don’t need to be hiding back there.” Rick shows himself, and I feel his bright blue eyes on me. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Karaoke sure, but my heart taking over my brain, needing someone, needing a man, needing my man, needing Rick Seno. Then I draw on my emotions and make the words my own with a clear, strong voice as I make eye contact across the room. It’s easy when you’re
singing the truth and I maintain my emotion in the second verse by simply having eye contact with my Rick. I don’t want to know why. I don’t want to explain or have to prove anything to anyone. I just want Rick. The chorus comes out like a request at first, but turns into begging by the end of the song. I want him to come home and I’m his home.

  Rick looks at me and smiles. He wants to come to me. Come home. I can’t help but lock eyes with him while the music plays out to the end of the song.

  The whole place loves it. “Sherry just keeps getting better! I can’t wait to see what she does with the wild card! Man, that Rick guy is a lucky dog. Thank you, Sherry,” Mike does his thing.

  I wait back stage for the other two singers to perform their songs. It takes forever. I want to go to him. I’m listening now to hear how the other two do. Only one of us will be eliminated and I know I’ll make it through. They finish singing and Mike calls all three of us to the stage.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, here are our top three. One of them is done right now and the other two will be going to the final round and wild card karaoke.” Mike goes on.

  I made it to the final! I hear cheering in the back and I know it’s Rick and the team. My heart beats hard. He’s here for me, when I gave up on him and couldn’t trust him.

  “Okay, Sherry you’re first. Here are your three song choices for wild card karaoke:

  “Promises, Promises” by Naked Eyes

  “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers

  “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran

  Which one will it be, Sherry? You have thirty seconds to decide.”

  More cheering in the back and Rick yells out, “Yes! “Thinking Out Loud”.”

  I know immediately, “Mike, I want to sing “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran.” Whatever Rick asks for, I’ll give him.

  “This could be a risky choice for Sherry to go out on the final song with something mellow. Do you want to change your mind, Sherry?” Mike asks.

  “That’s my final decision, Mike,” in the vein of Who Wants to be a Millionaire. “Singers should always listen to the audience and take requests. I think we all heard the answer called out from the back.” Mike gives me a nod and loads up the song.

  “That sounded like more than a request. I’m going to guess it came from someone special,” Mike with the Mic always has to get his two cents in.

  “Thank you to everybody here to support me tonight.” The music starts, I take a deep breath because this is risky to put it out there. My emotions have been trying to get the best of me all night. He wants to support me, he wants me to feel special. I left him because he makes me act like a girl, I gave up on him, pushed him away, and he’s not giving up on me. What’s wrong with acting like a girl? I believe him. I’m such a fucking idiot! I’ve never lived my life scared of anything. I start to sing and there’s a shake in my voice. I look for Rick and make eye contact. I need his strength. I need his love. I point at him and place my hand over my heart as I sing the meaningful lyrics and let my raw emotions out. I watch him slowly stand, emotion all over his face as he walks to the front of the stage and stands on the floor right in front of me. I reach for him and touch the side of his face while I’m singing. He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it tenderly, like I’m a queen, his queen. I’m on stage, but in my own world, our world. I somehow manage to finish the song strong and as the crowd cheers, Rick reaches up to the stage and brings me down to him. He holds me tight to his chest and buries his face in my hair, happy having me in his arms.

  Playlist

  “Yesterday” by the Beatles

  “All Right Now” by Free

  “My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark” by Fall Out Boy

  “Uprising” by Muse

  “Oh Sherrie” by Steve Perry

  “Seek and Destroy” by Metallica

  “Need You Tonight” by INXS

  “Never Tear Us Apart” by INXS

  “Jessie’s Girl” (Beach Version) by Rick Springfield

  “Funkytown” by Pseudoecho

  “When You Close Your Eyes (Do You Dream About Me?)” by Night Ranger

  “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by Israel Kamakawiwoʻole

  “Promises Promises” by Naked Eyes

  “Voices Carry” by Til Tuesday

  “Shadows of the Night” by Pat Benatar

  “Alone” by Heart

  “The Warrior” by Scandal

  “Kiss Me Deadly” by Lita Ford

  “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran

  “Love Runs Out” by One Republic

  “Ex’s & Oh’s” by Elle King

  “Can I Be Him” (acoustic) by James Arthur

  “Come Home” by One Republic

  King of Diamonds

  All About the Diamond Romance #2

  You have to take risks if you want to win.

  Rick Seno was my fantasy baseball boyfriend for years. In real life, he’s more than I imagined he could be.

  I love him. He changed my life. I still left him.

  Rick did everything he could to get me back. He never gave up on me.

  I won’t leave him again.

  I love how Rick defends me. I wish it wasn’t on the field, protecting me instead of home plate. It had my heart pounding. It was hot to have my own major leaguer fight for me.

  Time on suspension could be a reward or a punishment. Will it break us? It might be exactly what my king and I need.

  Muffin Man

  A standalone novella

  Robbi

  “Everybody out!” The manager yells, running through the salon as we all ignore her. She’s not the owner. Problem is the owner is out of town and she’s in charge. She stops and at the top of her lungs, “Evacuate now! It’s going to explode!”

  The salon freezes instantly, the calm before the storm. There’s a sudden frenzy of women gathering their necessities, and their clients as they run outside hysterically. I casually get up out of the salon chair and walk out with Deanna, my stylist, close behind me, and avoid the trampling stampede of frantic, high-pitched women.

  We all gather outside for the details, but the manager is still in there! She comes running out with the massage therapists and their clients wrapped in robes. It triggers me to survey the scene for what stages of beautification we’re all in. I mean, we all go to the salon for different things. Personally, it’s how I stay blonde and that’s not changing any time soon because I can prove blondes have more fun. The stylists are brushing out their hair, fixing their make-up, taking off aprons. I overhear what’s happening and empathize for some of the poor women in the middle of getting services, when it hits me—I’m one of them.

  The building had started to make a banging noise. The manager, Shawna, had taken it upon herself to find the problem. She was left in charge after all and the ship was not going to sink under her direction. This isn’t some basic barbershop, this is Michelle’s Salon and Shawna would not be responsible for damage to the custom European style decor Michelle has taken years to refine. It was the water heater. The water heater was making the loud noise, like it had air in the line or was trying to pass bad Chinese food. It was also emitting gas fumes and sparked every time there was a bang. The bangs were getting more frequent.

  Which brings us to the bunch of women now standing outside in the shade of the building’s front awning. It’s almost lunchtime and the parking lot of the strip mall is starting to fill up with patrons to the food establishments, eyes peering at the motley crowd of women in smocks milling around helplessly. Shawna’s on the phone with 911 trying to get, yes, you guessed it, the fire department.

  911: What’s your emergency?

  Shawna: There’s going to be a fire

  911: Is there a fire now?

  Shawna: No, not yet.

  911: Sorry, we can’t help you yet

  ***click***

  At least, that’s how I imagine it from the story Shawna told. There were others calling, it would be fine. Help would s
how up. Hopefully. Deanna, the only person I will let near my hair, is getting fidgety and twirling her soft brunette curls between her fingers. “I’m sure they’ll be here quick. We still have ten minutes before we have to wash the bleach out of your hair. Everything will be fine.” For those of you who are not salon savvy, leaving chemicals on your hair too long isn’t good. Hair will break off, fall out, burn. I’ve seen it smoke. All kinds of horrible things, and I take pride in my long platinum blonde hair. So, let me translate what Deanna said: Ten minutes until utter disaster. Others have half a haircut, shampoo or conditioner in their hair, extensions partially tied in. The people who were getting massages are relaxed, even if their clothes are inside the building and they’re outside wearing only a robe.

  Everyone that could primp, had primped for the firemen to show up. It’s a lineup and I can imagine the firemen walking the line, “I’ll take this one, and this one. You don’t mind sharing, right?” The senior firefighter steps up and says, “Sorry, I get first choice. Seniority gets perks. I’ll be taking this one from you.” Anyway, you get the idea. It’s a beauty pageant and then there’s me with a plastic bag on my head and a lady with foils sticking up off her head like she could receive radio transmission.

  The sound of sirens fill the air as the long red ladder truck pulls into the parking lot, stopping in front of the salon. The important thing here is the possible fire, but I appreciate firemen as much as the next girl, maybe more. Definitely more. I love a hot guy, even on days like today when I only get to drool from a distance because I look like a bag lady compared to the stylists. The first guy is a bit older with short salt and pepper hair. He’s fit and fills his navy blue uniform nicely. The second guy is shorter, still at least 5’9” and wearing one of those bulky yellow jackets with reflectors. His face is adorable, but the jacket hides everything else—not a hint of a single ab or muscular arm. The third reminds me of Goldilocks, he’s just right. Thick, dirty blonde hair and the mustache to match. His navy blue uniform pants are topped with his station T-shirt which stretches across his chest and shoulders, yet loose where it’s tucked into his Dickies. I’m busy imagining the things I could do to him. Naked. With my tongue. Deanna stomps her boots and drags me into the dog groomer next door.