Daring Play (Dangerous Book 3)

by Romi Hart

  “Oh yeah?” I said, pretty impressed at the visual. “Who’s your favorite singer?”

  “All time?” she answered excitedly. “Beatrice Kaye. Her music was considered risqué at the time. Now, it would be considered just sassy, but I am positive she could add my own modernized interpretation to make it sexy, you know? I love the message. It’s as applicable today as it was then. ‘What cha gonna do when the rent comes ‘round?’ It’s about accountability.”

  “Wow…you’ve rekindled my interest in you all over again,” I said. “Is that Spanish guy really gay?”

  She chuckled deeply from her throat. “He’s a drag queen but he has a girlfriend. Never assume anything, Cody. Nothing is as it seems in the real world, you know, the world of an artist.”

  “Then you only meant to twist me up. Make me feel stupid.”

  “No.” She pressed against my side. “NOT to twist you up. To teach you. You believe too much in the illusion. If they thought you were a stupid man, do you think they would have gone through such lengths to give you such a performance?”

  “It was a bit extreme, wasn’t it?”

  “You get used to it. Alice once brought a bearded dragon home and spent three weeks learning how to be a lizard. I think she still has it, but she keeps it in her bedroom now, so we can have space.”

  “Why did she want to learn how to be a lizard?”

  “Who knows? Maybe she was auditioning for a woman-lizard role.”

  I squeezed Diana’s hand tentatively, my fingers wrapping nearly all the way around and touching together around her small wrists. “Aww hell. Maybe I am kind of stupid, you know. You have a beautiful way of seeing the world and I didn’t even notice. I didn’t notice anything, only…only…”

  “Only what you thought you saw? Thought you knew?”

  “Yeah, I guess. How did that happen? How did I miss it?”

  “You weren’t looking.”

  They turned and started back to the house. “I’m looking now,” I said. “My eyes are wide open and I’m looking.”

  I gazed at her steadily. More than anything just then, I wanted her to believe me. She did though, really look at me, for a few maddening seconds while my heartbeat raced. A wave of heat washed over me all the way to my toes as I looked at her blushing face. “Don’t give me the innocent blue eyes,” she whispered, but in that moment of weakness when she gazed back, I cupped her face in my hands and place a soft, experimental kiss on her lips.

  Without a single thought, she responded, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing hungrily against me, her mouth probing and tasting mine. Only when she realized she was breathing heavily did she pull apart. She smoothed her hair and straightened her clothing.

  “I think this is where we should say goodnight, Cody James.”

  “But I made it to first base, right?”

  “Don’t try to steal a base or I’ll strike you out,” she warned. Her voice was husky, but her black eyes flashed sharply.

  “No, ma’am. Then I can call you again?”

  “You’re not afraid of my roommates?”

  “Nope. Seem like really cool people.”

  I jiggled my hands in my pockets as though not sure where to put them if not wrapped around a girl.

  “There’s a home game next week. If you’ll come, I can reserve tickets for you. A box seat right over the dug-out. Then, whenever I’m on the field, I’ll see you. When beautiful women are watching, I play better.”

  “Then I would be doing it for the team?” She asked, arching her brows. “I suppose, it would be wrong to let San Francisco down.”

  “It would be unpatriotic!” I replied.

  “It wouldn’t do. But could you get me four seats? I’d like to bring my roommates. After all, Angelique cooked for you and Larson and Alice performed for you.”

  “They won’t try to kiss me or anything, will they?”

  “I don’t think so. Of course, you never know with artists. Their affections can be so…random.”

  “Like with anyone?”

  She took my arm once more, reassuringly. “Pretty people. Smart people. Talented people. Don’t you like them? The pretty, the smart, the talented?”

  “Yeah sure…but only if they are women.”

  “I’ve never known them to push themselves off on anyone who wasn’t interested. What do you say? Four seats?”

  “I can get you four seats,” I finally said, calling her bluff. “You should get Angelique to dress in drag. Then it would look like there were three women cheering for me. He really does make a pretty girl, you know.”

  “And Larson?”

  “He’s not very pretty. Besides, he has a weird looking beard.”

  * * *

  I sauntered to the car, still tasting the victory of the first kiss. I beeped it awake and got behind the wheel before glancing back through the rear- view mirror. She was still watching me. She waved when I waved, then continued watching as I pulled out to the main thorough way.

  She had looked thoughtful when I opened the smooth, fluted doors and stepped inside. I knew that look. It was the same as the one my sister often gave me. Becky was always suspicious of my motivations. Even when I turned to agricultural studies, she accused me of cashing in on commercial farming, when that wasn’t really it at all. I take climate change seriously. Most of my studies were in balanced, low impact farming. It took a long time to convince Becky. If Diana was anything like her, she probably was wondering if I bought a Lexus because I had concerns about the environment, or just because the beautiful cream and burgundy automobile was expensive.

  Diana seemed pretty sure that jocks thought only with the brain located just below the belly button. But I could tell with that kiss…She was beginning to wonder if there really was more to me after all. And I began to wonder about Diana, why she had stood out in my mind? Why did she haunt my imagination? She was just another girl and I had known so many, I had lost count of their number. They were just a blur, but not Diana. She was clear as crystal with a voice that broke your heart into pieces.

  It’s not good to think of a woman that way. She’ll wrap you up and I already felt a bit tangled after the house visit. Strange people, but I supposed that was the way of stage performers. They practiced their craft at all hours. An annoying thought crept into my head, ruining the rest of my evening. Was Diana practicing her craft on me?

  3

  Diana

  My roommates were all waiting in the living room for my report.

  “Oh, not good,” said Angelique, studying the look on my face critically. “You’ve got a glow. No glow, no glow, honey. Remember, you’re the ice queen.”

  I flopped down on the couch triumphantly. “I got us four tickets to the home game. Front row seats. What do you say to that?” I asked.

  “Lights. Action. National television,” said Larson. “What shall we wear? Edwardian? Tropical region? A tuxedo. I must have a tuxedo.”

  “Oh, basic black. I love it,” said Amy. “I haven’t worn formal attire in so long.”

  “It’s a baseball game,” I reminded her.

  “Yes,” they both answered happily.

  I could have told Cody it was a bad idea to suggest Angelique appear in drag at a nationally advertised sporting event. But I didn’t.

  Besides, Angelique was delighted at the prospect, which should have made one even more suspicious if one was to believe Angelique deliberately designed and provoked the incident.

  * * *

  It was a beautiful day for a ball game, gently warm with a light breeze. I wore a loose sweater top, cut to a deep vee in front and back, over a pair of form-fitting slacks. I also wore one-inch heels that came to a sharp point. I never was the kind that could dress completely casually. If there wasn’t a dramatic pause, it just wasn’t me.

  Alice wore a classic black evening sheath, black gloves, tall heels and a bead and feather hat on her head. Larson was in a full tuxedo, his beard trimmed to an aristocratic point, his must
ache waxed. Angelique wore a stunning, Hawaiian print dress that came just below the knees, with a slit to one side, Japanese style. He wore a dark auburn wig that brought out the luster of his black eyes. Altogether, we made a stunning group that almost immediately caught the attention of the panning cameras.

  The seats weren’t directly over the dug-out, but they were close enough to be prominent. I supposed that four seats in the time-honored spot would be too difficult to arrange at the last minute and felt our second-row reservations just to the left of the most exclusive seats was a good arrangement, although Angelique huffed about it as though he was disappointed.

  Still, he played his role admirably. Taking his cue from the fangirls who crowded as close to the fenced barrier as possible, he squeezed his hands tightly together, leaning forward and holding his breath each time Cody came to bat and going into screams of ecstasy each time the rookie hero slammed the ball across the plate.

  Larson and Alice were also playing a role. It was fortunate Cody could not hear their words or he would not have been as pleased to have two such distinguished looking guests in his clubhouse. Larson watched the game through a monocle while Alice used a pair of small binoculars. Each time a ball was hit, instead of standing up roaring, Larson would clap his hands together and call, “Bravo. Job well done. Jolly good.”

  “Is he coming in for the last lap?” Alice would ask anxiously.

  “My dear, this is not the Ascot. They’re not wearing riding boots.”

  “Oh, the cut-backs in finance! First the horses, now the boots.”

  I didn’t really have to play a role. I never even watched sports on television, but I did enjoy sports arenas. I enjoyed the atmosphere, the charge of excitement. I enjoyed the smells of hotdogs, roasted peanuts, and popcorn. Plus, baseball was easy to follow.

  Cody was also easy to follow. He was easy on the eyes. In the baseball field, he was in his element. He forgot he was Cody, the big star. He forgot he was Cody, the lady killer. He was out there for one reason; to hit one for the team.

  Cody was at his finest physically. If his special guests weren’t quite movie stars, they still looked like they could be celebrities. They inspired him. They left his teammates asking questions he declined to answer.

  His Lamplight buddies would fill them in on as much as they knew, which really wouldn’t be much. Typically, Lamplight entertainers didn’t mingle much with the general populace, and the baseball stars didn’t mingle much with the high-brow casual Lamplight establishment.

  The only person who knew that Cody was familiar enough with two of the top billings, to invite them to the game was his buddy, Mike. Cody hadn’t even told Mike he was inviting these new friends. When we appeared, I surmised quite correctly that Cody was trying to impress his buddies.

  It wasn’t that Cody delighted in secrets and surprises. He was too candid a person for that. He simply wanted to be able to save face in case I didn’t show, and therefore had said nothing. When he saw us in the stands, his eyes sparkled, and he gave us his famous grin. He went up to bat, his feet planted far apart, his shoulders braced to swing. I swear I saw the pitcher cringe.

  The pitcher threw low and the umpire called “ball one!” Cody made a disgusted face, tapped the mound, then raised his bat again. “ball two!” Cried the umpire. The crowd muttered and shouted at the pitcher. Another low pitch and Cody tapped it lightly, so it sputtered and rolled just in front of him. “Foul one!” The crowd muttered more loudly. The pitcher reared back, his eyes fastened on the plate. He threw furiously, the ball roaring in straight and true. There was a loud, resounding crack and Cody was running toward the base, while the ball sailed toward left field, missing the catcher’s mitt by an inch and rolling on the ground. The crowd went wild.

  He played like a warrior, a dragon slayer. His performance was as precise as anything the Lamplight had to offer.

  I’m no fangirl. I don’t jump in my seat and squeal or engage in other types of silliness. When you were raised with four older brothers who kept you on the straight and narrow in a rough East Oakland neighborhood, you learn not to engage in silliness. But the charge in the air filled me with excitement and I leaned forward breathlessly in my seat each time Cody appeared on the field.

  Angelique nudged me at one point. “Careful. Your ice is cracking.”

  “No, no,” I said, “it’s just the game.” I was lying.

  It was a triumphant day for the Giants. The scores were close enough to keep both sides on the edges of their seats until the seventh inning when Cody hit a home-run that brought three players safely to base, pulling the Giants ahead and keeping them there for a final 7-5 score. The fans went crazy. The team put Cody on their shoulders and cheered.

  I waited with my group in the bleachers as the rest of the spectators clamored down the aisle, chattering with excitement. None of us cared much for pushing our way through crowds and anyway, thought the bleachers were a nice place to soak up the last of the afternoon sun.

  “We must do this more often,” said Angelique agreeably. “I was beginning to think we were vampires, only coming out after dark.”

  “The sun gives me freckles,” said Alice, pulling out an old-fashioned compact and powdering her cheeks. “It puts me out of character.”

  Larson gazed at the emptying stands through his monocle. “The coffee is terrible and the service lousy, but I would say the venue has potential. It has an atmosphere.”

  My phone rang. I dug in my purse to retrieve it and looked at the texted message.

  “Cody wants to meet us outside the lockers. He left directions. And he said to tell you all, thank you for coming.”

  “Are you sure he wants all of us to come, or just you?” Asked Larson, in a rare moment of being himself.

  Angelique, however, was more exuberant about the invitation. “Of course, he wants all of us! Look at us! Three gorgeous women and a mysterious stranger. It’s one for the score boards.”

  Without any more discussion, my friends followed me through the halls and exits of the stadium until we arrived outside the locker room. There, a fair-sized group of fan-girls squeezed against each other by the door, waiting for one of their favorite team players to exit.

  Apparently, it didn’t matter which one exited. They squealed and squirmed over all of them, with the players themselves sorting out who would be leaving with who. Cody was one of the last to come out.

  He was accompanied by a teammate I hadn’t seen at the Lamplight. The teammate was older and appeared to be giving Cody advice. They wrapped as many girls under each arm as they could, kissed them and groped them freely. My group and I stood back and waited for the celebration to be over.

  When Cody noticed me, he began detaching the hands that clung to him, hauling his buddy with him. “My new girl,” he said, encircling my waist with one arm.

  Along with the exuberance of the win, there was a distinct smell of alcohol on his breath. As he spoke, his hand slipped down to one of my butt cheeks, squeezing the firm flesh boldly. Without appearing to do much at all, I firmly moved his hand higher by taking it in mine and placing it on my hip. He flushed but continued jovially.

  “Diana, meet the notorious bachelor, Nate Jigger. He’s the real pro. Taught me everything I know.”

  “All the important things at least, eh?” Nate asked, taking a jab at Cody. “Just look at that. Three high-class women.” He sidled up to Larson and said in a low voice, “I guess you have to keep a sharp eye out in order to keep your girlfriend in line. Classy dames fall all over us athletic men. It’s the muscles. Women like muscles the way we like boobs.”

  Larson was unable to reply with more than “wistfully through the hedge…”, when Cody hastily intervened.

  “Say, we were heading out to the Round-up for steaks and beer. The rest of the team will be there. Why don’t we make it a big party?”

  Nate thought that was a fine idea because, of course, at the time, he wasn’t married. He winked at Angelique. “There are e
nough girls to go around. What do you say? Shall we blow this place and get out of here?”

  He was already starting to walk away, taking Angelique with him. Angelique giggled like a school girl with a crush and bumped his carefully padded hips against Jigger’s. Trying not to disentangle himself too much from my side, Cody called nervously.

  “Nate, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “I’m just having some fun, Cody,” he whispered. “Jesus, I’m not married, you know. Nate Jigger is forever a single swinger! And if I ever get married, you have full permission to slap me silly. That reminds me of a funny story. So, my cousin comes to visit me. Her name is Eleanor. She does gadding about with her sister Julia from Chicago. They are probably going to spend five thousand dollars on items they’ll use only once. Why do women like to spend money like that, darling?”

  “Darling,” Angelique said in reply, patting his hand. “It shows us how much you love us. When a man works hard to earn money just so their girlfriends can spend it!”

  “Well then, I guess she knows by now. Anyway, what’s the harm in going out and having some fun with the ladies? We’re just going out for a bite to eat! A little hanky-panky under the table doesn’t mean anything. Ain’t that right, honey?” His hand cupped around Angelique’s gel-filled brassiere, then slid down to his waist. When it made its way between the legs, he suddenly stopped.

  “What the fuck-?”

  First, he punched Angelique in the face. While the poor man was still recovering his dignity, he grabbed Cody by the lapels and shouted into his face.

  “Do you think this is funny? I thought we were friends! Friends don’t punk each other out like that.”

  Nate didn’t punch Cody, but he pushed him hard enough for the rookie to lose his balance, then walked away furiously with Cody calling behind him.