by TB Markinson
“Have you been to Europe at all?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t left Massachusetts.”
“You’re kidding,” I said without thinking.
“Not at all.”
“Oh,” was all I could think to say.
“You?”
“Yes, I’ve been out of Mass. Basketball and all.”
The hint of a bedeviling smile tugged her full lips upward. “I guessed that much. Have you been to Europe?”
“Some.”
“I haven’t heard of that country.” She tore another chunk of bread.
“I mean—”
Her laughter clued me in. “You must think me an idiot or a total Masshole.” I started to interject, but she plowed on, “What’s worse? Masshole or total jock?” She winked at me.
I drank some of the bottled water. “Is everyone five steps behind you?”
“Come on. With those legs, I could never beat you.”
“Maybe we can race later. Are you in school?” I asked.
“I was.”
“Not anymore?”
She shook her head.
Something warned me about asking whether or not she’d graduated. I circled a finger in the air. “There’s a lot of mystery surrounding you.”
“Only because that’s what you want.”
I let out a bark of laughter. “And you don’t think you cultivate an air of mystery just a smidge.” I held my forefinger and thumb half an inch apart.
She placed a hand on her chest, drawing my attention to her low-cut shirt and the swell of her cleavage. “You think I’d stoop to something like that?”
I leaned over the bag. “I do.”
Kat held my gaze, not relenting an inch.
“Prove me wrong, then. Tell me why you left the other day without giving me your phone number?”
“It slipped my mind,” she said, without a morsel of meaning in her tone or facial expression.
“And I should believe that because…?”
She leaned closer to my face. “Because you want to believe.” Her lips were within reach.
I edged closer, and she didn’t pull away. Should I, though? Or was this another Kat test?
I pressed my lips to hers. They were velvety soft.
Kat deepened the kiss slowly, giving me enough of a preview to know she was the real McCoy. Not some tease but a woman who liked the physical side of a relationship. However, I didn’t feel the desire to whisk her to my home and ravage her. The kiss had potential. On some level, I knew the longer we held out, the better it would be. Not a quick roll in the hay. It wasn’t Kat’s style. She, of course, hadn’t verbalized it, but the way she kissed made it crystal clear.
“I didn’t get anything for dessert, but I know a decent ice cream shop in Harvard Square,” I said, mostly to keep my lips away from hers. Understanding Kat’s motives didn’t make it easy to keep my mouth and hands to myself.
“I do love ice cream.”
“What else do you love?”
“Art.”
“Just art? That doesn’t tell me much.”
She whacked my arm. “How does one explain art, let alone understand it?”
I quoted one of my favorite lines from an Ani DiFranco song along the same line.
“You get it,” she said.
“I get I like it, but I don’t know it.” I wondered if I would always feel that way about Kat. “What’s your last name?”
“Finn.”
“Really? One of my favorite characters in literature is Phineas Finn.”
All the color seeped from her face.
“Are you okay?” I put my hand on her thigh.
“Yeah, fine.” She stood and stretched her arms overhead, tugging her shirt upward and allowing me a wonderful glimpse of her toned stomach. “It’s beautiful here but not the coziest.” Her eyes scanned the horizon, the setting sun illuminating the foliage into gold. “Shall we get some ice cream, now?”
I stood, packing the bag. “Would you like to walk or catch a cab?”
“Does Miss Basketball Star need a cab?” Her voice was teasing, and her eyes twinkled.
“I was worried about your delicateness.” I took the opportunity to let my eyes roam up and down her body.
“Delicate!” She stuck a finger in my face. “I’ll have you know I can handle myself.”
I wrapped my fingers around her hand. “Of that, I have no doubt. And I probably shouldn’t say this, but damn, you’re sexy when mad.”
She jutted out a hip. “Only when I’m mad?”
“Nope. All the time. I bet you’re the type who crawls out of bed looking gorgeous.”
“If you play your cards right, you’ll find out for yourself.” She strutted down the path, her hips twisting in a way that connected to my heart and soul.
I caught up to her, and we fell into a companionable stride. “Tell me about yourself, Kat Finn.”
“I used to go to Wellesley, but it didn’t take long to discover it wasn’t for me. My passions are dancing, painting, and reading. You and I have reading in common.”
I stopped dead in my tracks and yanked her arm. “You think because I’m a jock, I don’t dance.”
“Prove me wrong.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened iTunes. “Slow or fast?”
“Surprise me.”
“Lady Gaga, it is.”
The sun was setting, and it was difficult to hear the tune on my phone, but that didn’t stop us. We whirled, twirled, gyrated, and grooved. The next song in the playlist was slower, and we drifted into each other’s spheres, still dancing.
In my arms, still swaying to the music, Kat said, “A delightful surprise.”
“That I can dance?” I spun her around.
When she navigated all the way around, looking into my eyes, she said, “That we dance well together, like we’ve always been partners.”
Our lips met and didn’t part until we needed air.
Chapter Nine
“Cori!”
I walked out onto my parents’ deck. Roger and Barb had already arrived for Sunday dinner.
“You bellowed,” I said to Mom, using the opener Roger had installed on the deck post to pop the top off a beer; a bucket sat right under it to collect all the caps.
“Why are you late?”
I glanced at my watch. “It’s only five. The steaks aren’t even on the grill yet.”
“Usually, you get here by three.” Mom had her hands on her hips. “I was about to send out a posse.”
“Calling seems easier.”
“I did. About a dozen times.”
I slipped my phone out of my shorts pocket. “Oh, it’s turned off.”
Barb crooked her neck. “Hmmm.”
Mom looked to her sister. “That’s out of character for you.”
Dad, using tongs, apparently new since the tag still hung from the plastic cord, placed the steaks on the grill, but there wasn’t a hiss or smoke. “I forgot the veggies.” He disappeared inside.
Roger moseyed to the grill to check on my father’s work. Dad, the eagle-eyed decimal hunter, wasn’t exactly a grill master. Sure enough, I watched as Roger twisted the knobs, pressed the ignite button, and the flames caught.
Barb and Mom whispered behind their hands, speaking in their coded sister speak.
Their serious faces and fast hand movements were making me jittery. “This has been illuminating, but I’m going to talk to Roger. He actually speaks proper English.”
“Before you run, tell me one thing. What’s her name?” Barb’s expression was blank, but I detected a sense of glee.
“Whose name?” I forced all happy feelings from my soul to keep my giddiness under the radar.
“It’s worse than we thought,” Mom said to Barb.
Barb bobbed her head. “Yes, it is.”
“Seriously, I have no idea what in the hell you two are tal
king about.” I waved tootles and fled, feeling somewhat more at ease a good fifteen feet from the conspiring sisters.
Roger clapped a hand on my shoulder and laughed. “You can run, but you can’t hide. When those two get a bee in their bonnet…”
I cut him off by waving both hands. “I might need a refresher on some boxing moves.”
“I hope you mean footwork and feinting. Not actually hitting your aunt, my wife.”
“Please, when have I ever hit Barb? Now Mom—”
He grinned broadly. “Don’t go there. She’s in a class of her own.”
“You know better than most.”
“Ever since the day I met her, your mom has had it out for me. Now your father…” He waved to Dad, who had just returned outside on his way to the women, like a soldier on the battlefield cautioning a buddy to run from a landmine. “He’s the best. Can’t turn on a grill, though.”
Dad blinked. “There’s a flame.” He placed the veggie rack on the side of the steaks.
Roger and I shared a look, but my uncle didn’t call Dad out. “Just giving you a hard time, Dale.”
“What’s going on over there?” Dad didn’t look in the sisters’ direction, but it was clear he had picked up on the vibe.
“Cori’s met a girl,” Roger stated as if there wasn’t a doubt in his mind.
“Oh, yeah?” Dad smiled. “That’s good. When does the game start?”
I laughed. “And that’s why I love Sox fans.” I placed a hand on one of Roger’s shoulders and another on Dad’s. “What do you think? Will we kick New York’s ass tonight?”
“We have to,” Roger ran his thumb over his fingertips. “I bet Annie a small fortune we would.”
“Annie bet against the Sox?” I shook my head like I’d just received a one-two punch combo.
“Money does strange things to people,” Roger said with understanding.
“How much?” I asked.
Roger came from money, and since he’d entered the working world, he’d grown his nest egg substantially. Annie, when it came to betting, wasn’t in his league. Not many were.
“A gentleman never tells.” Roger winked.
Dad, scanning the news on the pre-game show, groaned. “The Sox’s starting pitcher is out.”
I narrowed my eyes at Roger. “That’s why you wagered a small fortune with Annie?”
“You’re acting like I knew the news ahead of time.” Roger put a hand on his not-so-innocent chest.
“You’d never make a bet with someone who couldn’t afford to lose a large sum, unless you knew it was a sure thing.”
“What can I say? Before my tennis match with Annie, I bumped into one of the team’s trainers.” He waved to the wicker couch facing the window where Dad had set up a small TV. “Shall we sit and cheer, praying for the best?”
I sat in the middle of the men, sipping my beer. “Why are you helping Annie so much?”
Roger flicked the upturned corner of the label on his bottle. “I can remember a day when I felt alone. Annie’s parents are alive, but they haven’t been there for her.”
He never spoke much about his parents and sister dying before Roger had a chance to grow up completely, if any of us ever did.
I put a hand on his leg.
“Be kind to her, Cori. She loves you, and I think she’s scared.”
“What do you mean?”
“This possible move to Ireland, she wants it, but to pick up and leave one’s country is never easy and she may be latching onto straws to find reasons not to go.”
“Do you think she should go?” A cardinal and two blue jays had a spat at the bird feeder in the middle of the lawn, the cardinal flying off to the lower branch of a tree, waiting for the bossy jays to get their fill.
“She’d be great in the job, of that I have no doubt. Annie has a knack for building relationships, and that’s what the company needs the first few years over there. As for the rest—the personal stuff…” He rubbed a splattering of gray stubble on his chin and then scratched the side of his crooked nose, a remnant from his boxing days. “That’s always the hardest part to square, even when things are going well. Are things going well for her?”
“Are you asking if I’m in love with Annie?”
He nodded.
Even Dad’s attention was on our conversation. Usually, when he plopped down in front of a television, he tuned out everything, one of the reasons why Mom refused to hook up cable outside on the deck like the setup Roger had at his place. My parents got along. Not that Roger and Barb didn’t, but their open relationship, at least on Roger’s side, had difficulties none of us understood.
“I love Annie. We’ve known each other since we were kids. But…” I stared at the players warming up on the screen. “It’ll only be that. A close friendship.”
Roger clamped his hand on my shoulder. “Nothing wrong with that so don’t feel guilty. It might be best if you could let her know that in some way soon. It’s time for her to make up her mind if she wants our immigration lawyers to start processing her paperwork.”
I nodded, which apparently didn’t exude much confidence.
“It’ll be okay. Short term, it’ll suck for Annie, if she has feelings for you as I suspect. It always does. Long term, you won’t destroy the relationship. She’ll need time of course. People in our family have a way of winning over even the hardest of hearts.” He flicked his fingers at Mom and Barb, still gabbing on the comfortable deck chairs on the other side of the deck, with a radio playing Barb’s big band music she was partial to on summer days.
Dad grunted good-naturedly.
Mom, noticing our attention, waved for me to join them.
I put a who me? hand on my chest.
Her extended finger commanded in her mom way.
Roger hummed the Darth Vader theme music, making my dad laugh.
I made my way over and slumped onto the low two-seater couch, the cushion still warm from being in the sun all day. My knees jutted awkwardly, like I was sitting in a desk chair for a second grader. “Yes?” I asked.
“Don’t think you can hide with the men all night. Barb and I have some questions.” Mom fiddled with her soft silk scarf, her makeup perfect as if a professional had applied it.
I waved with my empty beer bottle, still clutching it for protection. “Shoot.”
“Need another?” Barb asked.
“I think so.” I smiled at Barb. She was kinder and not as pushy.
Barb rose. “Nell?”
Mom nodded.
“At least one of you cares about me,” I said to Barb’s no nonsense retreating form.
Mom’s eyes went to the sky. “Please, you don’t have it rough.”
Barb returned with a cold Harpoon and a wine bottle.
“Okay, better now?” Mom quirked a demanding eyebrow.
I took a long pull from the bottle. After burping behind my hand, I said, “Go.”
“Is it Annie?”
I tossed my head back, groaning. “Annie again?”
Mom shot Roger a withering look. As if he understood the source of Mom’s irritation, he raised his bottle and smirked. Their interactions were comical on most days, but I knew not to smile. Mom would assume I was taking Roger’s side, and she was already in her typical combative mood.
“It’s not unusual for best friends to develop feelings. Sometimes, though, it can be one-sided.” Barb’s tone was pleasant, lacking any shade of judgment or encouragement.
“Roger already told me I need to be straight with her.”
“As in let her down easy?” Barb sipped her wine. “I think that would be best.”
I straightened. “Why?”
Barb waved for me to take a chill pill. “Because I don’t think you love her the way she deserves.”
I conceded the point with a sigh. “I suspect she wants me to.”
“Love never plays fair, unfortunately.” Barb stared over my head
at the bricked backside of the house. “And it’s never fun to be the one to let down someone you care about.”
“Have you been sleeping with her?” Mom asked.
“None of your beeswax.”
“That’s a yes,” Mom said to Barb, who remained stone-faced. Mom turned to me. “That’s never a good idea. Someone always gets hurt when you become fuck buddies.”
“Jesus,” I muttered under my breath. “I don’t want to chat about this with you.”
“Why not?” Mom demanded. “If you can’t talk about these things with your mother, who can you?”
“A friend.”
“Do you mean the friend you’re fucking?” Mom said with a bit too much relish.
“I have other friends,” I lamely added.
“Not close ones. You spend more time with us,” Mom said.
Barb placed a hand on her sister’s leg. “You made your point, and I’m guessing Roger made his. Let’s not badger the poor girl.”
“Poor Cori,” Mom huffed, not all that upset.
I stuck my tongue out at Mom. Barb was constantly swooping in and saving me from Mom’s more aggressive side, the one that intimidated me, ultimately forcing me to clam up when around her. However, her natural openness helped me see things as they were, supplying introspection from a young age.
Barb ran a finger along the rim of her wineglass. “Let’s talk about why you were late today.”
Betrayal stung my cheeks.
Mom and Barb tittered like high school girls.
I rose, stretching my arms over my head. “I think the game’s starting. And it’s probably time to check on the steaks. Can’t let Dad massacre them.”
Roger joined me at the grill. “How would you like your veggie patties? Extra crispy?”
Dad, never perturbed when Roger and I took over his grill duties, made his way over to the women. A quick peek at the TV made it clear that Annie would be getting her money.
Roger waggled his eyes. “Are you seeing Annie later today?”
“No plans to. Why?”
“I was hoping you’d hand off a check. Forty thousand big ones.”
My eyes bugged. “Annie put that much on the line?”
“No, but tell her it includes her signing bonus.”