No Time to Explain
Page 23
Stevie absorbed her cousin’s happiness. She appreciated Rylan. Grateful that Joe hadn’t objected. She would spread her gratitude all over him later tonight.
* * *
Tuesday afternoon came on fast. Rylan appointed Joe chief strategist for Team Rogue. Joe had played checkers as a kid, hustling on street corners for money. He’d refreshed himself on the rules on the Internet. He would call the plays. He presently leaned against the blue metal railing that separated the boardwalk from the beach. He surveyed the setup below. Damn impressive.
Collapsible bleachers enclosed the slightly raised, full-scale game boards. The seating was filled to the max. Standing room only. Sunshine shimmered off the sugar sand like a mirage. Low tide tugged at the Gulf, widening the coastline. Egrets and heron skimmed the shallow foam for small fish. Pelicans floated in deeper water.
Time closed on four o’clock. He took the short steps down to the beach, where the Rogues were hanging out with fans, providing photo ops and signing autographs. Stevie, Lori, and Dean were last to arrive. It was difficult to maneuver through the thick crowds. Joe greeted Stevie with a casual possessiveness. His arm circled about her waist, cinching her close. Dean eyed them, adjusted to seeing them together. Turned away.
Photographer Eden Cates-Kane walked between the games, her Nikon raised, ready to capture all the excitement of game day. It would be excellent promo for the Rogues’ website.
Joe took to the checkerboard and placed the players on their individual black squares. Everyone wore black T-shirts and jeans. Played barefoot. He rolled his eyes when Lori requested to stand near Dean. The two were inseparable. He positioned them in the front row. Sacrifice checkers. Out first and captured. He fit Stevie on the back row, between brothers Rylan and Dune. The guys were friendly, and would put her at ease. He then headed to a border square in the first row. It would be a solid advantage point to view the entire board and call the plays.
The opposing team arrived seconds later. Team Breakers, a local surf club, wearing red shirts and assorted board shorts. All guys. Athletic and deeply tanned. Sun-streaked hair. Each had paid fifty dollars to face off with the Rogues. Nice donation. Shaye Cates-Saunders, CEO of Barefoot William Enterprises, left her square, crossed over, and greeted the guys. Rylan waved to his hometown buddies. He had surfing skills. When not at the ballpark, he could be found on his board.
Shaye returned, walking straight to Joe. She leaned close and whispered, “This is a checker game for charity, Zoo. Don’t get crazy-ass aggressive on the locals.”
Aggressive? Him?
She poked him in the gut. “Play nice. It doesn’t matter whether we win or lose. It’s fun in the sun.”
Winning was always better.
She motioned to an impartial official who stood in the sand near the edge of the board. Time was now. Megaphone in hand, he welcomed everyone, read the basic rules, then went on to shout, “Play checkers!”
Black shirts moved first. Joe started with Lori, motioning her one diagonal space forward. Red, next. Both sides soon crowded the center rows. Black was first to jump and capture. The Rogues picked the surfers off, checker by checker. Until Shaye loudly cleared her throat, and Joe cut back on his quick captures.
The official moved the game along when the surfers slowed. “No stalling,” he called out. “You have to take the jump in front of you.”
Which was Rylan Cates. Team Breakers considered him one of their own. They hated knocking him out. With a fist bump and a slap on the back between surfer and Rogue, Ry hopped off the elevated board. He stood among the other eliminated players.
“No jumping Stevie’s bones,” Joe growled at one of the challengers. “Jumping doesn’t include landing on her square and staying. Back it up, man.” The guy shrugged, grinned, and moved in another direction. Stevie remained safe.
“Zoo, you’re leaving me exposed,” Halo called over his shoulder. He stood alone, a stray checker surrounded by red shirts.
Team Breakers was unorganized. They hadn’t realized Halo’s vulnerability. They were too busy high-fiving, having fun, yet they were losing the game. Joe could’ve strategized and saved Halo, Landon, and Pax. Instead he let them fall to the surfers. Shaye winked at him, pleased with his decisions.
Joe glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes were allotted per game. There were three further matches scheduled for the afternoon, all needing to be played before dusk. Joe wrapped up play with a triple-jump. A king was crowned. Zane Cates. He got a cardboard gold crown. The fans cheered the hometown hurricane hunter.
Joe kept his eye on Zane and Stevie. Zane paid her attention beyond what Joe felt was warranted. They talked as the surfers left the board and the new challengers took their squares. Stevie smiled over something Zane said. Even touched his arm. Zane seemed taken by her. Too damn taken.
Rylan crossed to him. “Don’t death-stare my brother.”
Joe turned on Ry. “He’s hitting on Stevie.”
“Not hitting on her, being nice.”
“There’s nice, and then there’s interested.”
“Let it go.” Rylan returned to his square.
Joe continued to watch the two. One eye on the game, one eye on them. The next challengers made him smile. Middle-school students from the Checkers Club. Twelve serious boys and girls. The faculty had donated twenty-five dollars per pupil. They were prepared, and they played exceptionally well.
In under twenty minutes, the red players jumped, captured, and blocked the Rogues so they didn’t have any more moves. Joe had seen it coming, and let it happen.
Halo held up his hands in defeat. “Trapped.”
“I’m backed against the edge,” from Pax.
“You kids are good!” Shaye praised.
The students’ smiles lit up their faces, and they bounced like pogo sticks. Team Rogue celebrated their win right along with them. The crowd applauded wildly. The board cleared. Parents collected their sons and daughters with big hugs.
Joe hadn’t been given the list of challengers. The next opponents from Beachside Memorial totally surprised him. In a good way. Shaye was nearest him, and gave him the rundown: “A doctor, intern, three nurses, and seven children, recently released from the hospital. Administration donated fifteen hundred dollars.”
His heart hitched at the sight of nine-year-old Ashley. Small, blond, she’d battled lymphoma and won. He’d planned to visit her one final time before her discharge, but she’d found him first. The doctor lifted her onto the game board. Joe hoped she could identify him without his superhero costume.
She did, running straight to him in her red tee and pink, gold, and brown paisley jeans. Red flip-flops, to keep her feet clean. “Super Z!” she squealed, all happiness and excitement.
He picked her up, spun her around, and hugged her hard. Relieved. “I wasn’t sure you’d recognize me.”
“I’d know you anywhere, galactic bounty hunter.”
His chest warmed. He stared, taking her in. “Look at you, pretty girl.”
“Look at you.” She touched his scraped cheek. “Owie.”
“It doesn’t hurt. I’ll heal.”
“I got all better.”
“I knew you would.”
She scrunched her nose. “How’d you know?”
“Superpowers.”
She angled her head, made Kewpie-doll lips. “You like my hair?” It hung beyond her shoulders. Shiny.
“Beautiful, sweetie. It sure grew fast.”
She giggled. “It’s a wig, silly.”
“It looks real to me,” he complimented. “No one ever wore hair better.” He searched out Stevie, found both her and the Rogues watching their reunion.
Kuts for Kids had enabled Ashley to face the world and her peers with confidence. Stevie had provided the gift. He lowered his voice, asked the girl, “Would you like to meet the lady who cut her hair for you?”
Ashley’s eyes rounded. “Is she here?”
He set her down. “On the game board.”
Stevie’s eyes misted. She choked up, unable to speak. She patted Ashley on the shoulder, finally managed, “I’m Stevie. Love you back.” Stevie eased her to arm’s length. Admired, “You look better in long hair than I ever did.”
“My real hair will grow back,” Ashley told her. “But it could take a few months.”
“Wear the wig in good health,” said Stevie.
Ashley beamed. “I am healthy now.”
Joe joined them. He took Ashley’s hand as they crossed the board. She skip-stepped beside him. “We played checkers during my recovery,” she remembered.
“From what I recall—”
“I won!”
That she had. Legitimately. Joe had gotten distracted and played without paying attention. Once his attention was snagged by a hot nurse taking Ashley’s temperature and blood pressure. Second time it was a female volunteer pushing the book cart. She’d reminded him of a sexy librarian with her bun and glasses. She’d helped Ashley select reading material. Joe picked out comic books. While he was preoccupied, Ashley cleaned his clock. Her smile was worth his loss.
He left Ashley on a white square in the last row, between two nurses. The spot protected her from immediate elimination. Whoops and laughter erupted with each move. Joe didn’t give a lot of direction. He let Team Rogue jump and capture, then alternately accept their fate and be removed from the game.
Ashley pointed at him as the game board cleared, and only a few human checkers remained on both sides. “Coming after you, Super Zooker,” she determinedly announced, spoiling the effect with a giggle.
Soon it came down to the two of them. A checkerboard with a sweet young girl who’d overcome a major illness, and a Rogue who’d cheered her on. They faced off. A move had to be made, diagonally forward. He could avoid her by going left, or land in her path by shifting right.
He rubbed his knuckles over his chin. “What to do?”
Ashley stepped from her white square onto a black, close to him. An illegal move. The crowd went quiet. “We call it a tie.” Her expression hopeful. “Like when we had wheelchair races at the hospital, and Batman, Captain America, and you crossed the finish line together. It’s come down to you and me, Super Z.”
The sideline official lifted his megaphone. “There are no ties.”
The fans booed. Long and loud.
The air settled, and Joe informed the man, “Ties are allowed in fund-raiser checkers. Both sides win.”
The crowd roared. The right decision had been made. Those on the bleachers stomped their feet in approval. He took Ashley’s hand, walked her to the edge of the board. They hugged again. He kissed her on the forehead. She kissed him on his good cheek. Photographer Eden took memorable photos. The doctor soon lifted Ashley down. Her parents were waiting off to the side. Ashley’s mom clutched a handful of Kleenex. Her dad was soft-eyed, his chin trembling.
Team Rogue hustled back onto the checkerboard. One game left to play. Joe raised an eyebrow at Shaye. “Who’s next?”
“Take a look over your shoulder,” said Shaye. “They signed up for the fund-raiser with the first flyer, a month ago. Weeks before you arrived in town. Sponsored by local bars. They donated ten thousand dollars.”
Joe fully turned. Stared. He shifted his jaw. Holy shit. There came his party posse, Team Zoo Squad, shuffling through the sand. Alyssa was leading eleven of the hottest girls on the beach. All in tight red T-shirts and short shorts. Ready to play checkers. Out to win.
Twelve
Woot-woot and wolf whistles shrilled the air. Joe’s party posse had arrived. The most gorgeous women on the beach took to the checkerboard. Stevie stood off to the side next to Zane Cates, as the women homed in on their main man. Circling and sexual. All hotties with perfect bodies. Coming on to Joe.
Team Rogue stopped talking among themselves. Shaye voiced her unease, muttered, “Kids in the crowd. PG-thirteen, Zoo.”
Her concern carried. Joe glanced her way, a man moderately hard of hearing. He grinned. “R-rated, got it.”
The guys chuckled.
Shaye rolled her eyes. “Idiot.”
Team Rogue listened as the Zoo Squad claimed his attention. “You promised a short weekend break, no longer,” a gorgeous brunette reminded him as she got reacquainted. She wrapped her arms about his neck, and her red T-shirt hiked, baring her hip bones and belly. She kissed him full on the mouth. Broke their kiss with, “Missed you, guy.”
Stevie’s heart lost a beat. Apparently Joe had planned to return to his posse after their wedding shoot. How could he not? The women promised fun and fantasy with their suggestive bodies and sensual smiles. Good times at the bar. Great times in bed.
“That’s Alyssa,” Zane said, satisfying her curiosity.
“You know her? Them?”
“Not like Zoo knows them. They’re all local. They catch fire for athletes.”
Joe was a professional ballplayer. A match lit for sex and satisfaction.
A tall redhead patted Joe’s butt. “Roz,” noted Zane. She soon left Joe for Pax, showing heightened interest in the first baseman.
An athletically toned woman stroked his shoulder and chest, and skimmed his hip. She had incredible legs.
“That’s Bo.” Again from Zane. “Marathon runner.” He quietly filled her in on each one.
Cady, as Stevie learned, led with her chest. The seams on her T-shirt strained, barely containing her large breasts. She hugged Joe with intimate familiarity.
“I’ve recently seen her with Sam,” said Zane. “Holding hands on the boardwalk.” He raised an eyebrow. “A few of Zoo’s posse seem to be branching out.”
Possibly, thought Stevie. Although one woman stuck to Joe like Velcro. Alyssa. She was last to take her square. “Beer later?” she asked him. “Me after midnight.”
“We’ll see.” No commitment. No decline.
Both sides were now positioned to play. Sports-minded Bo directed the Zoo Squad. Joe maneuvered Team Rogue. Stevie admired both teams’ strategy. The two were evenly matched. Up until the end. Joe knocked out Bo. Only to have Alyssa come after him. Three checkers remained. Two black, one red. Joe made it to the Squad’s back row, was crowned. An about-face, and Alyssa got out of his way. She came after Stevie, who was positioned mid-board.
Stevie was aware that Joe could only move one diagonal space at a time in non-capture mode. Alyssa was on Stevie’s ass, about to corner her. Joe managed to keep Stevie two squares beyond Alyssa’s capture as he crossed the board to protect her.
He was all strut and checker-attitude when he finagled a backward jump, and took out Alyssa. She’d been concentrating on Stevie, not as a human checker, but as a woman sensing her competition. Now she looked narrow-eyed, pinched-mouth, releasing a forced laugh that he’d gotten the best of her.
Joe and Alyssa hugged it out. He let her go. Alyssa was slower to release him. Her hand lingered on his arm possessively. He crossed four squares to Stevie. Drew her up on tiptoe for a kiss. A claiming kiss that sketched deep lines in Alyssa’s frown. Her amber gaze darkened with jealousy.
Dusk dipped the sun beneath the horizon. Neon lights from the boardwalk colored the sand. Music pounded a night rhythm. A flatbed truck came down the beach, bringing workers to dismantle the game boards. Rogues and challengers collected near the pier. There was widespread celebration. The atmosphere vibrated with exuberance and high spirits. Alyssa moved in, beside Joe. She elbowed Stevie. Purposely stepped on her toes. Tossed her hair and grinned. Meanly.
The crush of the crowd separated Stevie and Joe further. She found herself next to Zane. He had a big presence. Stevie felt safe beside him.
“What’s next?” Pax called out.
“Beer!” The cry rose, gained momentum.
“Zoo’s buying!” someone shouted. “Blue Coconut.” Cheers exploded like fireworks. Dea
fening. A human shift, as partiers left the beach for the bar.
“Where’re you headed?” Zane protected Stevie from the onslaught. A wave of humanity. Getting trampled was not her idea of a good time. She’d lost track of Dean and Lori. Joe had been quickly swept away by his party posse and booze fans. Stevie had no chance to catch him. She could only watch him go. With Alyssa. Away from her. Disappointment flooded her.
She shrugged. “I have no idea.”
He motioned her to join him. He talked as they walked. “Blue Coconut is a townies’ hangout, two blocks off Main Street. The bar can get loud. People talk over each other and the music on the jukebox. No dress code. Baskets of shelled peanuts are served. The shucked shells are tossed on the floor. Crunchy underfoot. A life-size neon Elvis statue leans against one corner of the bar. Dartboards and pool tables draw customers to the back rooms.” Pause. “The place will be packed, a bouncer at the door, a line down the sidewalk, sometimes into the parking lot, but I’ve never been turned away.”
He was a Cates—the family owned the town and operated the boardwalk businesses. In a family of five siblings, Zane was the second oldest of the Cates brothers, a year behind Dune. A year ahead of contractor Aidan. Then came Shaye, and lastly, Rylan.
Stevie had gotten to know the hurricane hunter as the afternoon progressed. He flew with the 53rd Weather Reconnaissance Squadron, stationed at Keesler Air Force Base, in Biloxi, Mississippi. Rylan called him “mental” because Zane flew into tropical storms and the eyes of hurricanes. A nice guy from what she could tell. Built like a brick, crew cut, single-dimple smile. Home on a week’s leave.
They soon rounded a corner, a half block from the bar. The door stood open, music blasted, and couples danced on the sidewalk to “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg” by the Temptations. Free and uninhibited. Stevie slowed near a streetlight. She was curious about the bar. About the party scene. About Joe and his posse. His relationship with Alyssa. Yet a part of her held back.
Zane stopped beside her. “Problem?”
“I’m not sure I want to go inside.”
“Second thoughts?”
She twisted the gold band on her thumb. “I’ve never met Zoo, the hell-raiser. The partier. Downing beers. The most popular guy in the place. The man of many women.”