Carlos looks down at me as he spots. “Any new cute chicks?”
“Not really.”
“Is that a no or yes?”
I shrug. “There’s a new girl. She works at one of the hospitals.”
“You should bring her to my party next week.”
“I don’t know her.” Forcing air out of my lungs, I lift the bar again.
“How will you know her if you don’t ask her out? You’re weird, dude.” He walks away.
I sit up and wipe my brow, wondering if I should even defend myself.
“Give him a break.” Juan pops Carlos with a towel. “Some broad must have messed him up.”
I do forearm, back, and leg reps with the guys, and we stretch out again. “Okay, I’m running, I’ll see you guys tonight.” I leave them as they head to the steam room.
“Ask her out,” Carlos yells after me.
I wave a hand at him as I walk away, thinking maybe Carlos is right. I need to get back in the saddle, or I’m going to end up wearing sweaters and raising cats. But I don’t want to be like I was before, moving from girl to girl with no rhyme or reason. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Most guys on the team are older than me and still dating around, at a different club with a different girl every week.
Finding an empty treadmill is easy on game days, and I take the one against the wall. I pop in my earbuds and start my run playlist. Before long, all I am thinking about is my feet hitting the treadmill deck and the sweat beading on my forehead. At six miles, I slow my pace and walk a few minutes. I take a quick shower and head to the market to pick up something for dinner.
Weaving through the aisles, I find some veggies and strip steak to grill. My phone buzzes as I join a checkout line. Abe’s message reads:
THOUGHT YOU WOULD WANT TO KNOW BEFORE YOU SAW IT ON SOCIAL MEDIA. ASHLEIGH GOT ENGAGED. WEDDING IN DECEMBER.
Shaking my head, I text back: K, THX.
HEY ZACK, SOMETHING ELSE.
YEAH?
SHE’S MARRYING ADAM.
LIKE IN OUR ADAM?
YEAH.
THANKS.
Man, I must be out of the loop. How long have they been dating? It’s been six years, but she was my first. My chest tightens. Abe, Adam, and I had our Bar Mitzvah together. Didn’t she break up with me because I was too hometown? He works as a loan guy at the bank down the street from our neighborhood.
“You want to check out, dude?” the guy behind the counter asks.
I throw my items on the belt, slide my card, and grab the loaded bag. Outside, I take deep breaths of the hot air. I got over Ashleigh years ago and wonder why I’m upset. Probably if I wasn’t coming off the blow from Amanda, I wouldn’t care. Quit being a pansy, I think.
Over the row of cars, a flash of red hair catches my eye, and I do a double take. Liz stands hand to hips outside her car door. You don’t care, I force into my psyche. But I’m not that guy. At least her name doesn’t start with an A. I wind around the truck and approach her as she’s using a cereal box to fan her front seat.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
Her head turns, and her eyes grow wide. “Zack?”
“Yeah, grocery shopping. Not stalking.” I motion to my bag. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. It’s fine.” She blows her breath over her forehead.
“Tinted windows would help. I got mine done—”
“I know. My neighbor said the same thing.”
“I have a guy. He had a fair price and came to the hospital lot. I have Monday off. If you want, I could be there when he comes.”
She shakes her head. “My neighbor gave me a name. Brad’s a firefighter, so he should be safe.”
“A firefighter who tints windows on the side?”
“No, Brad is the neighbor. He knows the window guy.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I have to get to work. See you around.” I wave, hoping the Brad guy is really a firefighter and not some psycho posing as one.
At my apartment, I light my grill and wash the veggies. Tossing them on the grate, I find my remote and plop down on the couch to watch the news. I have this meal down to a science. In fifteen minutes, the food is ready and I sit in front of the TV to eat. Afterwards, I double check my bag. Even though I’ve been with the team a month, I still get nervous, thinking I’ll forget something.
I brush my teeth and shoulder my bag, grabbing a water bottle on the way out. Within fifteen minutes, I pull into the employee lot. Clouds overhead threaten a rare shower, but it doesn’t matter because Phoenix has a dome. I enter the building and wind through the halls. When I open the door, a wall of women blocks my path.
“Zack!” Eva kisses me on each cheek and wraps one arm around me.
“What’s going on?”
“Just here to wish my man good luck.” She blows a kiss at Carlos. “Plus, my friend Mia didn’t get a tour yet.” Her other arm hugs the woman on her opposite side. “I met Mia at the gym. She’s from back east, like you.”
Eva’s other friends plant kisses on each of my cheeks. I greet them with hugs and then focus on Mia. “Hi, I’m Zack. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hi.” With a heavy Spanish accent, like Eva’s, Mia’s word spreads through our long handshake. “Not really back east. Detroit.”
“Mia’s in real estate.” Eva squeezes her shoulder.
“Well.” Mia shrugs out of the embrace. “I’m taking all the courses right now.”
“Cool, that’s awesome,” I offer.
Eva jumps and claps her hands. “And Mia will be at our party next weekend. Carlos said you were coming. No backing out.” She waves her long-nailed finger at me.
“Scout’s honor.” I hold up my palm.
Her eyes narrow. “Well, you’ll have to explain that one to me next week. Carlos doesn’t like me lingering.” She stands on her toes and waves at Carlos. “Right, Carlos? I love you, sweetie! Make a home run for me.”
“You know it, woman,” Carlos shouts from the back of the room.
Eva’s eyes land on me again. “I’ll see you next week.” She kisses me on each cheek and spins to go. The other friends litter my face with kisses again and follow Eva to the doorway.
“It was great to meet you.” I nod to Mia.
“You, too.” She smiles and follows the other women out.
Refocusing on my job, I make dodge around bodies to my station. All the trainers have a couple of players assigned to them. I pull out my list and set the bag on the floor.
Carlos settles on the bench in front of me. “You know Eva brought that broad Mia for you to meet. She thinks you’re perfect for each other—intellectual types, you know.”
“She seems nice.” I grab the tape from my bag and start to wrap his knee.
“Come on, man.” He slaps my arm. “Look how good she looks, all young and pretty, smart, a go-getter like you.”
“Yeah.” I nod my head. “I’ll have to talk to her next week.”
“There you go. That’s my man.” He rolls up his sleeve so I can tape his elbow.
Carlos’s parties are fun. Eva is a great host, and they spare no expense on food or alcohol. With a huge property overlooking the desert, a pool, hot tub, and large enough living room for a DJ and dance floor, the venue is amazing. Carlos and his friends are insane and hilarious, even sober. People watching alone had me entertained at the event I attended last month. Plus, since all the players are invited, there’s no shortage of beautiful women.
I move to Dave, Juan, and Mario, taping knees and elbows where needed. “Hey, make sure you get in a good warm up, no injuries,” I call as they head out to the field. Sometimes trainers get called up to the dugout, but most of the games we sit and watch. We study each player’s form looking for any sign of strain. When there’s an injury, we’ve seen what happened and know how to start treatment. This is my dream job, and I hope to move up through the ranks to become permanent staff. For now, I’m a sub. My assigned players are largely second stringers, except for Carlos, who start
s outfield but has a decent batting average for being near the end of the roster.
The D-Backs take the win. I don’t have any hurt guys and make a quick job of unwrapping joints and then pitch in helping the other trainers ice players where needed.
“Carlos did good tonight, didn’t he?” I hear Eva’s voice behind me and spin to face her.
“He did.”
“Mia had to go home. But you’ll see her next week.” She points at me as she walks past.
I roll my eyes and start stowing gear, making sure all the stations are clear.
I wake to sun flooding through the cracks around the shade. Remembering I need blackout curtains, I get up and note it on my shopping list. With school loans, I keep a tight budget, but getting enough sleep is a high priority. It’s nine and there are several messages on my phone from Jeff about the volleyball meetup, Josie and Sam, about hiking at sunset, and a trainer buddy about a workout. I message Jeff that I’ll meet him at two, text Stu confirming for five, and then let Josie and Sam know I already have plans. I intend on being in bed at nine as I’ve got an early shift tomorrow. Starting the coffee pot, I get milk for cereal, and move to the patio. I have an eastern view, so it tends to get hot in the morning, but I appreciate that I can be in the shade at night.
I force myself to sit in the sun to eat and then go inside to read the paper and drink coffee. My video chat app dings, and I see Mom is calling.
“Why don’t you have a shirt on?” Mom asks as I greet her.
“Because I live alone, and it’s before ten in the morning on Sunday.”
“Well, go get a shirt and call me back.”
Rolling my eyes, I end the call and retrieve a shirt. I shouldn’t say that I hate talking to Mom, but she mostly complains about other people. I clean as I talk so I’m not wasting time. This is sort of our Sunday thing. Half an hour in, I’ve done the bathroom and kitchen. She finally asks about me as I strip my sheets and throw them in the washer. I tell her about my weekend, the game, and my schedule for the upcoming week.
“Well, don’t work too hard, and make sure you put some social time in there. Did you make it to service Friday?”
“No, sorry. But don’t worry about me, Mom.”
“So driven. You’ll never meet a woman if you’re always working.”
I know this point of the conversation and avoid it like the plague. Now is where she starts in on me about getting married. “Hey, Mom, I have to vacuum and then get to the gym for a volleyball game.”
“Oh, okay, call me tomorrow.”
“Course, I love you.”
I tell her I’ll call, but I never do. I don’t have to. She calls me nearly every day.
Later, I meet up with Jeff and a couple of other volleyball folks and then work out with Stu. Stu and I usually end up working the same days, so our training schedule matches up. As I make my way to the parking lot, I get a text from Jeff.
BUNCH OF US GOING TO LOCAL PUB FOR DINNER. WANT TO COME?
SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN. TEXT ME ADDRESS.
When I receive the information, I open the map app in my phone. Since I’d planned on stopping by the grocery store, I’d at least worn something decent and don’t have to double back to my apartment. Wondering if Josie and Sam will be at the restaurant, I pull into the parking lot. Perhaps I should have asked who had planned the meetup. But it’s too late now. I jog across the lot and duck into the cool, dark space. When my eyes adjust, I catch sight of Jeff waving from the back. They are huddling around a pool table, and I make my way to them.
“You’re still walking. That’s a good thing.” Jeff slaps me on the back. “Glad you could make it.”
“Yeah, thanks for texting me. My workout was good, but I’m starving now.”
“Grab a beer.” He points to the bar.
I approach the bar and order a draft. When I return, Jeff ushers me over to the group gathered beyond the pool table. “You remember Cody and Beth Anne?”
“Yep.” I nod and shake each of their hands.
“And Celeste.” Jeff points to the tall brunette beside Isabelle.
“Of course.” She holds her bottle out, and I clink mine to it. “Good to see you.”
“You too.” She shoots me a wide smile.
I hug Isabelle. “Hi, Isabelle, how are you?”
“I’m good.” She pats my back. “Glad you could make it.”
“Me too.” I take a long draw of my beer and face the pool table.
“So, you guys played volleyball today?” Celeste asks.
“Yeah.” I bob my head as I finish a swallow. “How was your weekend? What did you do?”
“Work projects mostly. My job is crazy.”
I rebuke myself for not remembering what she does. “Remind me what you do again?”
“Marketing, and because I’m new, I’m the low guy on the totem pole.”
“Know how that is.” I take a swig of my beer.
Jeff and Cody finish their game, and Celeste and I team up against Isabelle and Beth Anne. Celeste isn’t bad, and her shots improve over the course of our game. We win easily, and the group moves to a table to order food.
“I actually play better pool buzzed than sober,” Celeste admits. “Without alcohol, I overthink the shots.”
“Alcohol can be beneficial sometimes.” I take a seat between her and Cody.
Cody and Beth Anne are from Wyoming. He told me his dad named him after the city. It’s a good way to remember his name. They hike with us, and Cody keeps talking about planning a Grand Canyon trip, which I want to be in on.
“So, you work a lot too?” Celeste catches my attention.
“Yeah, usually like six days a week. Today was my day off.” I tell her about my hacked-together schedule of picking up day shifts at various hospitals and working games for the baseball team.
She rests her chin on her hand. “So, I guess you don’t usually go see them play. There’s nothing better than sitting at a baseball game on a Sunday afternoon, eating a hot dog and drinking a beer.”
“The guys on the team keep telling me they can get me tickets. Maybe I’ll organize a meetup.”
“That would be cool.” Celeste takes a sip of her beer as the waiter approaches.
We order food, and the conversation drifts to plans for the Grand Canyon camping trip.
“You’re coming, right, Celeste?” Isabelle asks.
“Maybe. I haven’t done much hiking, I’ll have to come on a few outings with you guys.” Her nose scrunches up. She’s from New York City, and I wonder if she’s ever even been backpacking. But she looks fit and plays tennis, so I figure she can handle it.
“This is the oddest mismatched group,” Beth Anne comments. “Cody and I grew up in rural Wyoming, Celeste is from New York, and Zack, Milwaukee.”
“We’re the only locals.” Isabelle squeezes Jeff’s hand and smiles at him.
Isabelle knows Celeste from work. Isabelle is in accounting, which seems like a geeky thing, but she’s not like that at all. Maybe it’s her southwestern laid-back attitude. Isabelle and Jeff met in college and have been together since. They have a house together, and I figure Jeff will pop the question any day. Cody and Beth Anne married after college and moved to Phoenix soon last year. Cody got a transfer with his bank, and Beth Anne teaches school.
“Celeste.” Beth Anne scoots closer to her. “Tell me about New York, Cody and I want to go there this fall.”
Celeste starts to outline the major highlights, and I imagine Cody on the subway with his hat and cowboy boots.
“Are you going back, like to visit your family? Maybe you could show us around.” Beth Ann continues to Celeste.
“Probably for Thanksgiving. I could write out an itinerary for you. You could visit my folks in China Town. It’s really nice there in the fall.”
My beer has made me sleepy, and my legs start to twitch. My phone reads nine, and I stretch. “I think I’m outta here, guys.” I stand and survey the table, waving at everyone.
> “We’ll see you next Saturday at our place, right?” Isabelle points at me.
“That’s the plan.” I back away and spin towards the exit.
I’m beat Wednesday when I exit the hospital, and my feet feel like lead weights on the hot asphalt. Pulling an energy drink from my bag, I chug it. Three twelve-hour shifts make for a rough start to the week, and every muscle craves sleep. But I don’t want to miss volleyball. I’m going to go nuts if I don’t talk to someone under the age of sixty, I think as I weave through traffic. Most of the patients are nice, but twenty-something company is needed, stat. I pull into the JCC parking lot and grab my duffle. As soon as I hoist my door open, I hear my name.
“Zack, look!” Liz points to her car.
I jog over to her. “Sweet, nice windows.”
“It’s so much cooler inside.”
“And you’re still alive.”
She lifts her bag to her shoulder. “I told you Brad had my back.”
“And you talked to me of your own free will, so that’s progress.”
“What? Nobody was holding a gun to my head before. Cut me some slack. I’m excited about my windows.”
As we approach the door, I stride ahead of her to open it.
“Hey.” She stops mid-stride. I release the door and rejoin her. “Do you think you could get me on another team? Delilah is a serious ball monger. She didn’t let me get one shot in.”
“Oh, I get it. You talked to me because you wanted something.”
“No.”
“I’m just messing with you.” I tap her on the bicep. “You don’t know me yet, but I’m a pretty funny guy.”
“Are self-proclaimed funny people ever really funny?”
“Excellent point. I’ve got to stop saying that. But I’ll talk to John, no problem.” I swing the door open and wave her in.
“Good, because I’m seriously kind of scared of him. He seems really intense.”
“Rabbi John? He’s harmless as a flea.” I spin the volleyball on my index finger.
She snatches my ball. “Do you seriously have to be good at everything? You know Rabbi could be a child molester.”
I swipe the ball back. “That Brad dude could be a serial killer.”
Deepest Scars Page 2