Jagged Heart (Broken Bottles Series Book 3)

by Taeuffer, Pamela

  Now that I had a chance to look closely at Ryan's friend, I noticed the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. It made them sparkle. He wore black slacks. A silver knitted mesh shirt covered his bare chest. It made his blond hair stand out and revealed his very fit body.

  I wonder if Dana is his date. Does she love his chest as much as I love Ryan’s?

  After I took a few sips of my iced tea, I realized Kevin, Henry and the man next to him were still waiting for my reply. I knew my response could turn the entire evening unpleasant, possibly affecting the camaraderie in the clubhouse. Henry and Ryan not only worked together warming up in the bullpen, but also in the game. Kevin would probably defend me, being loyal to Ryan. It was important for the younger players to remain in good standing with those who had seniority—my boyfriend and his buddy definitely had it.

  I debated my response.

  I knew what I was about to say could set how Ryan's friends and teammates might treat me in the future. Shit disturber, whiner, or worse—a baby who needed to be treated delicately—could be some of the labels used to describe me.

  I’d be ostracized.

  Ryan would go out alone on nights like these because he'd be embarrassed to bring me.

  I knew it meant the beginning of the end if I spoke up.

  “No," I finally responded. “We were only talking about ordering some nachos.”

  “They better not.” He gave them a look filled with serious messages. I thought I heard them sigh in relief. "Nachos sound delicious. Where's that waitress?"

  I laughed, watching him raise his hand to order and wondered if the same woman would stoop and put her hand on his leg as she'd done to Ryan.

  “How's my sister doing?" I said to no one in particular. I was certain that Jenise sat at the other end of the table to stay away from my anxieties. Not having to worry about checking on me was probably a relief, but I wanted to be near her. It was what I imaged a double date would be, not this, separated from her and ignored by Ryan. Plus, I was curious to get to know her in this new situation and also talk with Sean.

  “Ryan," I yelled. He'd just returned and yet was immediately engrossed in a conversation with the man next to him. I tapped him on the arm to get his attention. He put his hand on my shoulder, acknowledging that he heard me.

  “Yes, sweetheart?” He finally leaned close.

  “I want to be near my sister and Sean. Jenise doesn’t know anybody and she's all the way at the other end of the table. This night isn't what I envisioned.”

  He yelled something to the man sitting next to him. It was like a game of telephone, one asking the other to get Jenise’s attention until she received the message. She gave me a thumbs- up, a smile, and then looked away.

  “Looks like they’re doing fine,” Ryan assured me. “I’ll check on them in a minute." He kissed the side of my head. "Just relax.”

  “I can’t.”

  You try sitting here with people you don't know making rude comments and see how easy it is. All you have to worry about is fending off the waitress.

  “Do you want to leave?” His tone was neutral. His eyes showed no preference either way.

  I couldn’t decide if he was irritated, testing me, or really didn’t care if we stayed. Shaking my head and taking the passive way out, I tried to convince myself that my decision was the correct one.

  “Use those networking skills you have and think of it as a business opportunity,” he suggested loudly. "That woman sitting toward the end of the table in the yellow dress works for Totemag.com Maybe you could introduce yourself."

  “Yeah.” Thanks a lot for the brush off. I feel like excusing myself and hiding in the restroom for the rest of the night. Maybe I can take a bus home. None of them would miss me. Hell, they wouldn't even notice I was gone.

  Ryan turned his head and once again engaged with the opposite end of the table, his back to me.

  Why do you keep turning your back to us? Is it Dana?

  I studied my sister and Sean. They’d obviously introduced themselves and were easily meshing with their end of the table, laughing, telling jokes, and pouring beer.

  They’ve come in without any walls—what about you, Nick?

  “Did you get something to drink?” Ryan finally shifted in his seat and faced me. "Here." He pushed a plate of appetizers in front of me. "I ordered some food. We could share."

  “Kevin got some iced tea for me since you haven't been around." I hinted that he was a little late with his offer. "I'll have some of the appetizers. I'm so hungry."

  “I’m sorry I ignored you. Something unexpected came up. With two people, no less." The peaceful look on his face showed he was now enjoying the evening. "I thought there was a pitcher of diet soda or iced tea near you.”

  “There wasn't." My response was clipped. "That’s okay.”

  "Good movie, wasn't it?" He put his arm around me, either not catching my tone or pushing through it. Whichever it was, it worked. Finally, I felt like my evening had continued with my date. Only a few minutes later, however, his attention was once again taken away as he focused on the person sitting next to him.

  Shit.

  While I dealt with that challenge, another presented itself.

  Like the lounge at The Embarcadero Hotel, women poured by our table like the beer flowing from pitcher to glass—they were often and plentiful. Each woman who walked by our group didn't bother to hide their intentions. They openly and brazenly flirted with the men as if their dates sitting next to them didn’t matter.

  “Cleat chasers,” “Baseball Annies,” “Groupies,” “Gold-diggers,” “Fan girls,” and “A woman who can go,” are among the less offensive names for women who try to have sex with athletes. These ladies know which jock is married, engaged, has a girlfriend, is single, and in each of those categories, which ones play around. They are skilled at drawing attention to themselves. They dress impeccably; making it known they are women on the hunt. They frequent all the strategic spots: nightclubs, bars, hotels, spring training venues, ballparks, neighborhoods where the athletes live and other places where they might run into men who make a living playing professional sports.

  And here they were tonight.

  Was it the possibility of a fantasy that made them so bold? Or perhaps the women dreamed of a chance to be taken from their every day lives and into something spectacular?

  Maybe it was strictly lust and sex.

  I didn't fault them for desire, but flaunting it to men who were already taken was hard for me to handle. On the other hand, wasn't it up to these men to say something rather than feign ignorance at what was happening?

  Were they she-wolves who could sniff out the weaklings of each litter, immediately targeting the easy prey in front of them—men who were in the prime of their physical lives, running on testosterone and adrenaline?

  Physiques, influence, and looks were short-lived. Wasn't the point to have fun while they could, when they were young, no matter what? It seemed so. It wasn't hard to figure out why they might play it that way. Once the physical stuff dwindled, whether a man or a woman, no one seemed to give a damn.

  Still, I hoped for better from my baseball heroes. The apparent lack of respect from both sides bothered me in a deep and profound way. Doubt seeded in my gut. Down deep, I knew I could never be part of this life. When it came to adult games and desire, I hadn’t understood the agreements made when entering that kind of play.

  Suddenly Ryan raised his voice.

  It was loud.

  He was irritated.

  My head jerked. My focus returned to the table just in time to see an attractive woman turn away from him in a huff. She wore shorts cut so high that part of her ass showed. Her bikini style top barely covered her breasts.

  No wonder these guys play around. There are endless opportunities right at their fingertips. All but the strongest of them probably fall for the obvious charms in front of them.

  Ryan’s face knotted in frustration.

  I have
to burst this crazy bubble.

  I turned his face and kissed him on the cheek.

  His arm returned to my body and rested protectively on my shoulder.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “She sat in my lap to have her picture taken with me.”

  "I don't mean her. Where have you been all night? Earlier—"

  “I’m sorry about that. I'll tell you about it later."

  I forced a smile.

  How would anyone know you're with me when you've had your back turned all evening!

  "Glen was having a meltdown."

  "Glen?"

  "The guy who was next to me. He left. I'm not sure I convinced him to stay with the team. I had to make sure he was okay."

  "He's sick?"

  "His mother is. He's trying to decide whether or not to leave the team and he's right on the cusp of making it in the regular lineup. I feel so bad for him. She's his only family."

  "What about Carlos?" I asked, somewhat defiantly. "What was so important you got up and went to the bar with him?"

  "Kevin, Carlos and I played in semi-pro together but he didn't make it. He's kind of lost right now and booze and women seem to be his solution. Kevin saw him earlier. He wanted to catch up. I should have asked him to sit down and introduce you, but he's pretty drunk. I called a cab to take him home."

  So that explains it. I wish he'd said something earlier. Well, I feel a little better.

  "You have my undivided attention now." He dipped a chip in the hummus and fed it to me. "You always do, Nicky. Sometimes I have to tear myself away, that's all." His lips were soft as they pressed into mine and the evening took a turn for the better.

  That was until my third challenge of the night.

  Ryan’s past rose up from its grave and had come back to life.

  Dana lifted the lid from his chest of secrets, bringing back from the dead a ghost Ryan had tried to bury—or hide—from me.

  By the time she finished, I knew that ghost he had tried to hide from me was all too real. She was alive and lived in San Francisco.

  Chapter 18

  Waterfront Turbulence,

  Part II

  “Where has Jesse been lately?” Dana now sat across the table instead of to Kevin's right. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw the woman that Ryan had mentioned earlier, dressed in yellow, straighten as if listening and attentive.

  Jesse! I know that name!

  “Who’s Jesse?” I butted in.

  "Ryan's ex—" Dana stopped midsentence.

  If a look could be lethal, Ryan’s would have stopped Dana's heart right there at the table.

  “What the fuck?” Kevin interjected. “Who cares?”

  The woman in yellow looked at me.

  I looked directly at her and shrugged my shoulders.

  She took a drink of her white wine. When she wiped her mouth with a cocktail napkin, she failed to wipe off the smirk that went with it.

  I wonder who that's for.

  “No one. Well, me, I guess.” It seemed as if her whole body twisted and turned in nervousness. “I haven’t heard from her in a few months. I thought if anyone had, it would be you, Ryan.”

  Before he answered her question, Ryan paused for what seemed like forever. He shifted purposefully in his seat to face her and was expressionless when he finally spoke.

  “I don’t know what Jesse’s been up to." His voice was cold.

  "But you guys—"

  "I don’t keep tabs on her," he interrupted. "Never did.”

  “You two lost touch, then?” Dana asked, almost remorsefully.

  Silence.

  “When you guys broke up, she stopped calling me."

  "Call her, then," Ryan suggested.

  "Her number has changed."

  Ryan only stared. His face held no tell of what he was thinking.

  "You and Jesse used to go everywhere together. What happened?”

  “Was Jesse the one from last year who called when we were going to Yountville?” I placed my hand on Ryan's forearm.

  “I don’t think so." There was no fluctuation in his voice.

  She was, too. What's the big deal? The way you're reacting . . . I'm uncomfortable all over again.

  "So who is she, anyway?" I pursued. "You still haven't told me."

  "Monica Standwell," the woman in yellow suddenly stood up and reached across the table and offered her hand.

  "Nicky Young," I shook it, aware of an introduction that seemed all-too-planned and very timely.

  "I know," she responded as if all business, but some undertone of amusement danced on her voice.

  "You do?"

  "I read your mention in SF Gate a few days ago. Impressive."

  "Thanks." Where have you been all night?

  She pushed up from the table and walked to where I sat.

  "Here's my card. When you're at Stanford give me a shout. I'd love to talk with you about a column, reporting from the college front."

  "I'll do that. Thanks very much." I watched her as she elegantly wove through the tables and people to the exit door. I presumed the man who followed her was responsible for the diamond on her finger.

  Ryan's eyes twinkled.

  "Didn't I suggest you—"

  "Yeah, yeah," I pushed his shoulder with mine. "Don't think she saved your ass. Anyway, who's Jesse?"

  “Someone I used to know.” Ryan squirmed in his seat. His eyes begged me to stop the conversation.

  “Used to know?” I pressed. “Is she dead or something?”

  Dana put her hands over her mouth and tried not to laugh.

  A juicy story seems ready to circulate. I’m not sure I want to hear it—but then again, I want to hear it.

  “We went to college together.” It was obvious Ryan didn’t want to continue.

  “Oh?” I turned my body to face him.

  She's the one he and Kevin were talking about that day I heard them in the outfield when they didn't know I was listening. You guys called her a fuck buddy but Kevin said she was in love with you, Ryan.

  “I’ve heard her name more than once and now again tonight." I didn’t want him to wiggle his way out of a pointed conversation. "In fact, when I overheard you and Kevin talking last year, you—"

  "She's an acquaintance.” Ryan answered quickly, still fixed on Dana. His blue eyes had gone cold.

  “Oh, right," Dana snorted. "They were like the king and queen of the ball, Nicky.” She waved her hands in the air like crazy, ignoring my boyfriend’s glare.

  “Really?” I encouraged her to continue. “How so?”

  “Oh, they were seen everywhere! Any important event and the two of them were there,” she informed. “I got to tag along and meet some of the hot guys that drooled over Jesse. They were so disappointed when they found out they couldn’t have her.” She cracked up. “Oh well, it worked out for me.”

  When I was checking on what Ryan's contacts could do for Jenise, Caden Blockley, the president/CEO of City Architecture had mentioned he wanted to meet one of Ryan's "acquaintances" at a function they attended. I wonder if that was Jesse?

  “Jesse’s leftovers are mighty fine. Another Cosmopolitan!" Dana shouted at the cocktail waitress.

  “So apparently she was taken. By you, Ryan.” I was devilishly aggressive. "You know, when I met your friend Caden, he mentioned you were with someone he was dying to take off your arm. Was that her?"

  Silence.

  Awkward.

  Uneasy.

  Thick air.

  “Ooh, I remember him! He's delicious and definitely had a thing for Jesse. You guys were beautiful together,” Dana sighed. She shifted to face my date. “Does she still live in the city?”

  “Does she, Ryan?” I pushed.

  “She’s a nice gal,” Dana continued. “Tough to get to know, but once she opened up, I thought she was all right.” She looked down the table. “I guess she’s not around anymore.”

  A knot formed between Ryan's eyebrows. I’d s
een it before when he was angry or undecided. In fact, I’d seen it only moments earlier with the woman who’d just wanted his “photo,” and again when deciding if we should sit at the table.

  I knew he was troubled.

  “Excuse me." Ryan kissed my cheek and then got up.

  I tugged on his jacket sleeve.

  He leaned down.

  "You promised," I whispered in his ear.

  When he looked at me, his eyes were troubled.

  Fear flashed inside of them.

  He hesitated.

  Seconds dragged.

  Turned into minutes.

  "Please let me go. Just for now. I don't want to make another mistake in front of you and I'm afraid I'll lash out. I can feel that I'm not handling myself well and I'll talk with you privately about all this. Please . . . just for now . . ."

  I released his arm.

  Watched him sit with my sister and Sean.

  I wanted to be with him.

  “He’s uncomfortable talking about her?” I queried.

  “I guess so,” Dana remarked. “I didn’t mean to make him leave."

  “You didn’t." The anger simmered inside me. “He did that all by himself.”

  “You’re cool, Nicky.” She smiled and winked.

  I was overwhelmed that a mature, stunning woman like her gave me some words of acceptance—and I was immediately suspicious.

  Kevin sat forward and slammed his glass down on the table.

  Both of us jumped.

  “Why didn’t you take the thousand cues he gave you and shut up, Dana?" Kevin's voice was as stern as a high school principle.

  Quit beating her up. It’s not her fault that Ryan couldn’t finish the conversation.

  “For fuck’s sake, open your eyes, woman. Ryan’s seeing Nicky and she doesn’t need to hear about another woman.”

  “Oh gosh, I didn’t realize! I’m sorry,” she glanced at me.

  Really? We came together and . . . what did you think? I was Ryan's sister?

  “I’m not upset.” My stomach turned over. “Go on.”

  I have to know more . . . even if my curiosity kills me.