Spare Hearts

by Dorothy F. Shaw

  More applause from the crowd.

  “Many said your injury nearly a decade ago was a career ender. What made you think otherwise?” another reporter’s voice came through as the noise level subsided.

  “I worked with a great physical therapist.” He adjusted his hat. “I guess I wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he believed in my drive to be on top once more.”

  “Anything you’d like to attribute your win to today?” a voice from the crowd asked.

  Sterling paused in thought then pulled a sucker from his shirt pocket. “I couldn’t have done it today without my Candy.” He winked into one of the many TV cameras and held out his lollipop. Nothing could be truer. Candy made the last month better than he’d ever dreamed possible.

  The crowd cheered louder as the reporters started shouting more questions.

  “Candy, Mr. Dey? Care to elaborate?”

  “Do you always have suckers when you bowl?”

  “Is candy your good luck charm?”

  Sterling’s chest filled with pride. Damn right she is!

  “Are you sponsored by a candy company?”

  “No more questions for now, y’all. I appreciate all the attention, but you should save some for when I win Vegas.”

  The cheers from the crowd rose up and drowned out the reporters. Sterling held up his trophy once more and stepped off the stage as camera flashes lit up the space like the Fourth of July.

  He made his way to the private section in the back of the building. Someone had been gracious enough to bring all his gear and boots and have them waiting for him.

  A woman in a well-pressed business suit and glasses approached him, introducing herself as Ms. Brewster. She congratulated him, then started rattling off his itinerary for the next day. Sterling only half listened as his thoughts raced through his mind like a Texas twister. Screw you, Mr. Mechanical Bull. I showed your ass!

  * * *

  Candy wiped the tears from her cheeks, hoping Trudie didn’t see, as Sterling accepted his trophy and stepped onto the podium to answer questions.

  “Look how cute he is,” Trudie said. “Almost ten years? My word, how old is he?”

  Candy shifted on the couch and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You don’t remember him from when he was on the circuit before? I kinda figured you did.”

  “I wasn’t payin’ attention to bowlin’ ten years ago, sugar. Too busy chasin’ a bull rider across Oklahoma.” She paused, a spark lighting in her eyes. “He had impressive thighs, bigger than my waist around, among other things.” Trudie sipped her drink.

  “You really can’t have a conversation without bringing sex into it or the size of a man’s penis, can you?”

  “Hell, no. Life’s just too short to not enjoy the fruits of God’s labor.” Trudie brushed a piece of lint off her leg. “So how old is he?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Older than me, I’m guessin’.” She sighed and stared blankly at the television. “We never discussed age; talked about lots of other stuff, but not age.”

  “Sounds sweet; dating and pillow talk can be nice.”

  “I couldn’t have done it today without my Candy.”

  Candy wanted to downplay the “dating and pillow talk” Trudie was swooning about when Sterling’s comment stopped her short. She focused her attention on the TV. Looking straight into the camera, he held out a lollipop and winked. He didn’t just—

  “I’ll be damned! He’s talkin’ ’bout you, Candy.”

  “Nah, no he isn’t.” Candy’s heart pounded in her ears, beating with a rhythm of hope. She stood, grabbed the now-empty nacho plate and headed to the kitchen. Hope was a dangerous emotion to have.

  “He was. How can you think he wasn’t?” Trudie followed with their empty glasses in hand. “That comment was more obvious than a nun in a whorehouse.”

  “A what?” Candy shook her head and started washing the dishes.

  “Never mind. Call him; you should call him, honey.”

  “He’s busy. You saw for yourself.” Candy shrugged, mentally trying to pull back on her emotions. She felt like a runaway train. “I’ll send him a congratulations text later.”

  “At the very least, you should see if he’s gonna roll back through town on his way out. I know I would.” Trudie leaned in and gave Candy a kiss on the cheek. “Gotta run, sugar, Billy’s probably home by now. I’ll see you Tuesday at work.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thanks for bringing the goodies by and watchin’ the tourny with me.” Candy grabbed the dish towel to dry her hands, and walked her friend to the door. “I had fun.”

  “Me, too, doll. Be good now, and if ya can’t, then be good at it.” Trudie stepped out the door.

  Though it was forced, Candy laughed and leaned against the doorjamb as she watched her friend get in her car and pull away.

  Could he have been talking about her with his little comment about candy? She supposed it was possible. He’d told her he missed his “Candy.” But being the simple girl she was, Candy sure as hell didn’t want to be a fool and read anything into it. After all, the man sucked on those Dum-Dums like they were going out of style. It was his thing, one of the tools of his game.

  Candy finished washing the dishes and cleaned up the remains of the girls’ evening in. With the task complete, she grabbed her cell and sat down at the kitchen table. Not expecting a message in return, she sent one, and only one, telling him “Congratulations!” She meant it, too. She was happy for him.

  Changing into a set of comfy pajamas, Candy curled up on the couch with her nana’s afghan and her latest cross-stitch she’d been neglecting, and listened to whatever she could find on TV good enough to be distracting.

  Sterling Dey was something special for sure. And as she tamped down the little flutters of hope that insisted on rising inside her mind, she resigned herself to the fact that she’d most likely never see him again.

  Life would go back to normal, and as time passed, it would all feel like a dream. Wouldn’t it? She’d had her chance at her dream. She’d tasted and touched it. But now it was gone. No longer within reach.

  Lord, this just plain sucked. This was a horrible joke, like she had thought when this started with him. Grief and despair took up residence in her mind. Shaking, she buried her face in her hands and let the tears come.

  Chapter 26

  Sterling awoke with a start on Monday morning to the sound of the hotel phone ringing. A wake-up call he didn’t remember requesting. He hung the phone back on its cradle and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Not for the first time, he found himself grateful he’d stopped drinking all those years back. All the excitement from the win yesterday had him plum tuckered him out, and he’d slept like the dead. The reality of achieving his goal just began to scratch the surface. Holy hell! I won!

  As he rolled himself to the edge of the bed and sat up, he reached for his cell phone to check for messages. There was only one he really wanted to see. Candy had texted and he’d missed it during all the commotion.

  Candy: Congratulations!

  She did watch me play. Excitement rolled through him, like he’d become a high school kid who found out his crush might like him back. His cheeks were starting to ache from the grin taking up residence on his face.

  Sterling set the phone down and started for the bathroom. He needed to get cleaned up and moving based on Ms. Brewster’s description of all he needed to do. Meetings with sponsors, a photo shoot, two separate interviews, and lunch with the hosts of the tournament, just to name a few. He planned on texting Candy later, when he had a break. Right then, he had to mobilize before things got too overwhelming.

  Ms. Brewster picked him up promptly at eight that morning, and as soon as he opened his hotel room door, she began rattling off the agenda for the day. She insisted they take her car as she rushed him out the door. She had been all about business from the moment she introduced herself. From her sensible shoes and dark gray suit all the way up to her hair pulled back in a tight bun, she
was pure efficiency. He bet she had at least two pencils hiding in her hair somewhere.

  “Any chance of breakfast?” Sterling took a seat inside her black Lincoln Town Car.

  She settled in the driver’s seat. “Not really in the time schedule. I believe they will have a buffet at the photo shoot.” She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “And is that before or after the first interview?”

  “After. We have you scheduled for the interview with Bowlers Journal first thing, then pictures to follow,” she said.

  “As long as they don’t mind my stomach tryin’ to answer the questions for me.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Dey, I’ll try to make this as painless as possible for you.”

  Sterling was out of practice with the publicity machine and grateful he had a guide, however stuffy she might be, to get him on his way.

  “All right, just do me a favor and call me Sterling.” He popped one of his cherished suckers in his mouth. “I keep thinking my dad is in the car when you say ‘Mr. Dey.’ ”

  She nodded, but said nothing more.

  The day flew by like a racing Thoroughbred. Interview after interview, his eyes still held a blur spot from the abundance of flashbulbs. “Over here, Mr. Dey.” “Hold up the trophy, Mr. Dey.” “Can you do that again?” “This time hold up the sucker.”

  After the first stop on the list, Sterling realized his cell phone wasn’t with him. He cursed himself for not replying to Candy when he’d had the chance this morning. Hell, considering how crazy the day had been, he wouldn’t have had time to reply to her anyway.

  Sterling declined the invitation for one last meeting over dinner, citing exhaustion as the cause. At least he wasn’t lying. Ms. Brewster dropped him off at the entrance to his hotel with one last congratulations and a handshake. He tipped his hat to her and turned to drag his two-ton boots in the direction of the elevators.

  After closing and locking the door behind him, he set his hat on the counter and fell on his bed like a bag of dirty laundry. Boots, cowboy. Don’t fall asleep in your boots.

  He muscled himself upright and let his boots fall to the floor. Picking his phone up, he checked to see if any new messages had come in while he was away. There was none. He couldn’t blame her. Not wanting to feel like any more of an ass than he already did, he punched in a quick message before the sandman got a death grip on him and dragged him off to dreamland.

  Exhausted. Gonna pass out.

  With his last ounce of energy, he stripped down to his birthday suit and crawled between the sheets.

  * * *

  Candy waited all night Sunday to hear back from Sterling. And then, she waited all day today. She was about to go out of her mind pacing her trailer, completely out of things to do, when she’d gotten called into work that evening.

  She leaned against the front counter, pulled her phone from her back pocket, and held it in her hand. Nothing. Not a damn stinking thing. No “thank you,” no “how’re you?” If she checked her phone even one more time and found nothing, she might just bowl the damn thing down lane ten and say to hell with Sterling Dey. With men altogether, for that matter.

  She damn sure wasn’t waiting another cotton pickin’ minute more. With a grunt, she walked into the office, stuffed her phone in her purse, and decided leaving it there might be best for the night. Maybe even until morning.

  The man was long gone, that was for dang sure, and she’d just have to accept that. So what if they’d had a great time on their dates? So what if the sex was incredible? So what if he’d taken an interest in her and her life? So what if he’d made love to her into the early morning hours the night before he’d left, touching her in ways no one had ever touched her? And so what if something had burst to life inside her, in the short time between them, making her long for more… long to see if there had been at least a chance of more.

  So. What.

  Candy moved back out to the front desk and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her head was throbbing. Damn! Damn! Dammit! To hell with her stupid expectations. To hell with her silly dreams. This was real life she was living in, and she sure as hell needed to remember that.

  “Hey there, darlin’.” Trudie approached her, carrying two beers in her hands. “You look like you need one of these.”

  Candy eyed the clock, almost closing time. Screw it. “Thanks, I do.” She took the offered beer from Trudie and downed a long swig.

  “You talk to him, hear from him?”

  “Nope.” Candy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Didn’t figure I would, though.” She shrugged and tipped the bottle back again.

  “Baby girl, you got caught up, didn’t you?” Trudie pursed her lips and rubbed Candy’s hand. “It happens to the best of us, precious.”

  “Can we not talk about it? I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “We never have to talk about it again.” Trudie squeezed her hand.

  Candy took another swig of her beer. “It’s just… I thought, ya know?” She shook her head. “We only spent a month together, but it was the best month I’ve ever had. And…” She picked at the label on the side of the bottle. “No one’s ever seemed so interested in me before. I mean, really in me, ya know?” She tipped the bottle back, then set it down again. “It ain’t like he was tryin’ to get in my pants by talkin’ all sweet and stuff. I’d already given it up to him. A bunch.” Candy cringed then shook her head and waved her hand in front of her face. “I really don’t want to talk about this, Trudie!”

  “All right, honey. You don’t have to.” Trudie rested her elbows on the counter.

  “I guess I just hoped.” She dropped her head. “I’m silly. I shoulda known better.” She looked at Trudie, feeling the tears begin to well up. “Why am I so upset?” She swiped at her eyes. “I don’t wanna be this upset.”

  Trudie ran around the counter, pulled Candy into the back office, and hugged her.

  “Shh,” Trudie crooned, stroking Candy’s hair. “It’s okay, baby girl.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this, Trudie!” Candy cried and buried her face in her friend’s shoulder.

  “Yes, you said that.” Trudie pulled away after a few minutes, grabbed a tissue, and handed it to Candy. “G’on in the bathroom and clean yourself up now.”

  “Okay.” Candy turned, tears still falling, and sniffled. “Thanks, Trudie,” she said softly, then disappeared into the bathroom.

  “Sure thing, sugar. I’m heading back out to the bar.”

  Candy wiped her mascara-stained cheeks and blew her nose. She stared at her reflection for a few moments, muttered a curse, and stepped back out into the office. On her way out, she heard the faint beep of her cell. She stopped dead in her tracks, listened again. Beep.

  She darted back toward the desk, ripped her purse open, and dug for the phone. Desperate much? Finding it, she pulled it out and flipped it open.

  Sterling: Exhausted. Gonna pass out.

  She plopped down into the desk chair and read the message again. It was different compared to the other messages he’d sent. She stared at the phone, debating whether or not to text him back. She shook her head at her foolishness, closed the phone, and stuffed it back in her purse. No, she might be feeling a little heartbroken, which was stupid considering the circumstances, but she wasn’t anyone’s sucker.

  Candy finished her beer and went on about her closing duties. Finally done, she got her things together and headed for home. When she’d settled herself in bed, she stared at the text again, and in a moment of tired weakness, she sent off one final text.

  No worries, cowboy. You’re busy. It was nice while it lasted.

  With a sigh, she closed her phone. Setting it on the nightstand, Candy curled herself around her pillows. She hadn’t felt this depressed since she Jared left and she realized he wasn’t coming back. And still, this felt worse. Thank God for sleep. Sleep would be her savior because this was just too much to bear.

  Chapter 27r />
  Sterling leaned his back against the shower wall and let the warm water wash over his body. Every bit of exertion from the weekend came back to haunt him with a vengeance. And this morning, it was winning.

  Rubbing his shoulder, he attempted to lift his arm with little success. He tried to convince himself it was muscle fatigue, much like returning to the gym after a long hiatus—the second day was always the killer. Tough it out, and get back to the gym. If not, couch potato was the new plan.

  He rubbed stronger circles in his shoulder, willing the blood to flow and bring him back some mobility. A little ice and some ibuprofen ought to do the trick. His arm started moving, weak, but moving. Damn thing hurt like hell. No way he could deny that.

  With a towel secured around his waist, he stepped out of the bathroom and started getting dressed. A faint beep came from the dresser, and without thinking, he jerked his arm toward the cell that lay there. Yay! His arm moved. Shit! That frickin’ hurt.

  Clenching his teeth, he pulled his right arm tight to his body and took a deep breath before reaching for his phone with his other arm. Thank God he had a month until Vegas.

  A new message from Candy showed on his screen.

  Excitement pulsed through him… until he read it. Cowboy? It was nice while it lasted? What was that all about? Was she brushing him off? He scrolled up to the message he sent her last night. Aww hell. I wasn’t even thinkin’ I was so damn tired. He closed his eyes and let his head slump with a big sigh, realizing his message was damned impersonal in comparison to the others he’d sent.

  Screw this texting shit. He always took things head on, and this shouldn’t be any different. The publicity machine was done for now. He needed to get his denim-covered ass back home, rest his shoulder, and prepare for Vegas. And God help him, pick up his favorite Candy along the way.

  So no texting back; he’d screwed that up. He wasn’t calling her either; the next conversation with his Candy was going to be face to face.