Throw Like a Woman

by Susan Petrone

  They talked for a few more minutes, then Andy said he had to go because he was meeting some friends online to play a game. Brenda was left feeling empty and alone. She left a message for Alex Clemowitz, even though she knew it was after business hours. He was reportedly waiting for the new custody proposal from Ed’s lawyer and for a date for the custody hearing. Brenda hadn’t talked to him in a week. Leaving the message made her feel proactive.

  Charlie had told her he would call her as soon as he was back from taping his show. He was taping the show at 8:30 in order for it to air live on the East Coast. She was surprised when he called her at 9:45.

  “Hi,” Brenda said, and for a moment she felt like a fifteen-year-old.

  “Hi yourself. Is it too late to have dinner with you? I made it from LA to Anaheim in record time.”

  “Should I be impressed or flattered?”

  “How about both?”

  Charlie had a habit of saying things that made her stomach turn little tiny cartwheels. Brenda took a deep breath, trying to remember reality. He lived two states away. She had two boys at home who still needed her. There was no way this could ever be a permanent thing.

  “Where do you want to meet?” she asked, suddenly cognizant that she was going on an actual date—a second date.

  For only the second time ever, Brenda heard Charlie Bannister stammer. “Well, could I ask you to come to the eighteenth floor?”

  “Is the Eighteenth Floor the name of a restaurant?”

  “No, the eighteenth floor of your hotel.”

  “Why?” she asked, although she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

  “Because there’s where I’m waiting for you.”

  Again, she felt a cartwheel in her stomach and had to remind herself that life was already complicated enough without getting involved with Charlie Bannister. But she still said, “All right.”

  As she walked down the eleventh floor hallway and got in the elevator, she realized that eighteen was the top floor. Her arms and legs started to shake. She was as nervous as she had been the first time she’d pitched in a game. “He’s just a guy,” she muttered. “He’s just another guy.”

  Charlie had told her to go to suite 1805. When she arrived on the top floor, she saw that it had less than half the rooms of every other floor. It was becoming more and more evident that Charlie had gone all out to make this a romantic evening, which made her more nervous. The nerves were tinged with a bit of annoyance. This was only their second date. It seemed like he was ratcheting up the commitment level just a bit too fast.

  With each step down the tastefully decorated hallway, with its floral print carpeting and faux wall sconces between each door, she let herself get a bit more annoyed. This was kind of presumptuous. By now it was much later than she usually ate dinner, and she was ravenous. “Okay, I’ll just have dinner and leave. That’s it,” she murmured as she knocked on the door.

  Charlie answered almost immediately. She had to admit he looked nice in jeans, a white oxford, and a brightly colored tie that was done in a casual, loose knot. She hated that he somehow knew this was her favorite look on a man.

  “Hi,” he said with a nervous smile. “I’m glad you’re here. Come on in.”

  She murmured a hello and followed him in. Charlie hesitated for a moment when she walked in, as though he wanted to kiss her on the cheek but wasn’t sure if that was permissible. Brenda was glad he didn’t. At that moment, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. She took a deep breath and gave the suite a quick look. Off the short entrance hallway she could see a small formal dining room to the left and a living room complete with baby grand piano to her right. In front of her, a wall of windows showed her a balcony with a glimpse of the evening sky and downtown Anaheim. In spite of herself, she said, “Wow.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” Charlie said.

  Brenda walked into the living room and realized the suite probably took up the square footage of her entire bungalow house. She asked the first question that came to her mind: “Why?”

  Charlie looked embarrassed. “You have a curfew. I thought it would be easier if you had dinner in the hotel, and I know you’re rightfully paranoid about being seen in public with me.”

  “With anyone,” she said quickly. “I already have enough people talking about me.”

  “I know.”

  He looked so kind standing there by the piano that she almost felt bad. What was she supposed to do in the face of such generosity and attention? Immediately jump into bed with him because he dropped a bundle on a dinner date?

  “Would you like something to drink?” Charlie asked. “A glass of wine? I have a pinot noir and a sauvignon blanc.”

  A glass of wine or three sounded great. “The pinot, please.”

  She watched Charlie busy himself behind the small wet bar located in a corner of the living room. She also smelled a spicy scent coming from the dining room. Was it a curry? Clearly, Charlie had gone to great lengths to make this a special evening. She took another deep breath and tried to quell her growing annoyance.

  Charlie handed her a glass of wine. “Just so you don’t start thinking I’m going too far, I want you to know that there is no chef in the kitchen waiting to make us dinner and room service isn’t sitting by the phone waiting for our order. However, there is a big bag of Indian take-out in the kitchen. I remember you mentioning that you like Indian food and decided to just bite the bullet and order in a bunch of things and hope there’s something you like.”

  This seemed both thoughtful and presumptuous. She wanted to like what he had done—she did like what he had done. But wasn’t taking the liberty of ordering dinner the equivalent of ordering for her in a restaurant? That was kind of archaic. And it was awfully forward to rent a suite just for a dinner date. She didn’t want to be the kind of woman who was so pliable that a little extravagance made her swoon. It was easier to be annoyed. She had gotten good at being annoyed and peeved and angry. There had been a time when she had also been good at joy and laughter and trust, but that Brenda seemed very far away.

  Charlie had happened to pick some of her favorite Indian dishes (samosas and saag paneer and aloo gobi), and they talked about food. She asked him about taping in LA and answered politely when he asked about her flight from Chicago. She knew this was supposed to be a wonderful date. They were supposed to eat and talk and drink too much wine and sit on the couch later and kiss and maybe go to bed if they both felt ready to take that next step. She supposed she could go through the motions and do all those things, but what purpose would that serve? She could let herself fall for Charlie, and then what? She didn’t need a long-distance relationship.

  “Is something wrong?” Charlie asked.

  She looked up and realized she had been sitting and staring at the half-eaten samosa in her hand for a good ten seconds. “No,” she said. “Yes.” Trying to articulate everything she was feeling was like trying to explain how she pitched. It was so much easier just to do than to think. “You know that this will never go anywhere, right?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “This is all very nice but you live five hundred miles away from me. Why even bother starting something that won’t go anywhere?”

  “Four hundred fifty, actually,” Charlie said. “New York City is only four hundred fifty miles from Cleveland.”

  “I don’t think that makes much difference. I’m not sure what you think is going on here, but I’m not looking for a one-night stand or a relationship or anything in between, so what’s the point of all this?”

  Charlie opened his mouth as though he was going to say something but thought better of it. He stared at the table for a few seconds, clearly trying to figure out what to say. Then he looked up at Brenda with a small smile. “You know, that’s one of the very few times you’ve been completely honest with me.”

&nbs
p; “Do you think I’m kidding?” Brenda asked.

  “No. I appreciate that you’ve actually told me something genuine about what you’re thinking, because with the exception of your phone call the day after the fight in Chicago, I feel like you have a brick wall around you that’s ten feet high.”

  “If you’d been through what I’ve been through, you might build a few walls too.”

  “Have you gotten a lot of petty comments from people openly wondering if you have your job because you know what you’re doing or because of Affirmative Action hiring practices? Oh wait, that was me.” Charlie said this without a trace of sarcasm. It seemed like he had been wanting to tell her that he had an idea of what she was going through but hadn’t known how or when to say it.

  “What am I supposed to say to that? I’m sorry you’ve encountered racist jerks like I’ve encountered sexist jerks? I didn’t notice any mass protests when you took your job.”

  “How do you know? I bet you didn’t even watch my show then,” Charlie said playfully.

  Brenda just sighed her agitation. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be there any longer, but she was feeling a rush of adrenaline and anger that was making her want to stay. It was like the fight. “You’re not as funny as you think you are, Charlie.”

  “I know,” Charlie said, and added with a slight tinge of embarrassment: “And you aren’t the first person to say that.”

  This wasn’t going well. How were you supposed to argue with someone who wouldn’t argue back? It was a useless exercise. Instead of defusing it, this only made Brenda’s anger and agitation grow. If Charlie was really so all-fired-up happy that she was sharing genuine feelings with him then he should give those feelings more respect. Instead he was just being so darn nice. “Listen, what do you want from me?” she asked.

  “I don’t want anything from you,” Charlie said, and Brenda noticed a touch of exasperation in his voice. ”I’d like to get to know you better, and I enjoy spending time with you when you aren’t looking for a fight.”

  “Who says I’m looking for a fight?” That was as annoying as having someone accuse you of being upset when the only thing making you upset was his presumption at telling you how you feel.

  “You just seem kind of angry,” Charlie said. She ignored that he looked concerned when he said this. Her anger was hers to own and hers to name, not his.

  “You don’t know me well enough to know my moods,” Brenda replied. She felt that maybe she had him now, that maybe he would stop with the nice business and give her a good old-fashioned argument. This rush of anger was much more intense than the regular fury of anger she worked herself into in order to pitch. Having another person across from her made it feel like the genuine article, not forced. She didn’t want it to end.

  She could tell Charlie was trying not to take the bait. “Look, if you’d rather not be here, that’s fine. I’m a big boy; I can handle rejection.” He paused for a moment, as though giving her time to decide. “But I really wish you’d stay.”

  Brenda stood up and walked over to the window, looking out on the balcony. A few stars and the moon were visible despite the city lights. The anger felt good, better than any happiness she could remember.

  She heard Charlie stand up and walk over just behind and to her side. She could see their reflections in the glass as she looked outside—Charlie’s friendly and open face and hers looking thin and haggard and mean. She watched Charlie’s reflection give her a gentle kiss on the cheek. It felt safe and even a little protective, not that she needed protecting. Then Charlie’s reflection moved down to the side of her neck, and as he kissed her again, she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see herself enjoy it.

  His lips and his tongue played ever so softly on her neck—just enough to pique her interest and make her want more. Brenda tried to grab the anger back. There was no future here. She didn’t need another complication in her life. But the anger was out the door. As a tingle went down her spine, she involuntarily arched her back in pleasure. “Oh shit . . .” she murmured.

  Charlie stopped kissing her and took half a step away. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

  She looked at him and suddenly wanted very much to have him continue doing exactly what he had been doing. Why not a one-night stand? It would be something else to get pissed off about later. She grabbed his arm with her right hand and pulled him close, giving him their first full kiss on the lips. She was not mistaken; this felt very good. “No,” she whispered, her lips moving to his ear. “Don’t stop. But don’t call me in the morning either.”

  •◊•

  Excerpt from the transcript for Today in Sports with Charlie Bannister, ESPN, September 14:

  Charlie: Good evening, sports fans. This is the first day of our stay out west and I just want to tell you all: I love LA.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  •◊•

  Brenda stayed in Charlie’s room just long enough to give herself something to regret the next day. He asked her more than once if she would stay the night, and being the one to say “No” and leave was a new sort of rush. It felt like power.

  The next morning, she went downstairs to have breakfast in the hotel dining room as though she wasn’t tired and a bit hung-over and hadn’t missed last evening’s curfew. As the only female and quiet besides, no one suspected that she might stay out too late on a game night. And she hadn’t exactly been “out”—she could honestly say she’d never left the hotel. She ate alone with the newspaper and was only disturbed twice by autograph seekers.

  Sparks, Groggins, and Landers were sitting two tables over. When the second autograph seeker left, Landers walked over to her table and plopped his big lanky body into the empty seat across from her. Brenda had always figured Landers must have been the class clown when he was a kid, and that air of mischief around him hadn’t left.

  “Morning Brenda,” he said and leaned across the table as though they were co-conspirators in a serious prank. He paused a moment, obviously savoring what he was about to say. His hazel eyes actually twinkled as he looked at her and asked in a sotto voice, “How’s Charlie?”

  Brenda was chewing on a piece of toast, and she quickly put her hand in front of her face as though she was trying to be polite when really she was trying to avoid choking. “Excuse me,” she muttered, as she finished chewing and swallowing. This gave her a second to calm herself. “Charlie who?” she asked, hoping she sounded more nonchalant than she felt. Landers and the rest of the team didn’t need any more ammunition against her, and she sure as hell didn’t want any sports writers or bloggers writing about her private life.

  “Mr. Today in Sports himself. Tell me, did you slide down Charlie’s banister?” Landers asked.

  Brenda ignored the bad joke. “No. I did an interview with him a while ago but that’s all. I haven’t seen him since.”

  Landers leaned back a bit and said in a normal tone of voice, “Did you catch Today in Sports last night after the game? They’re shooting from LA this week.”

  Brenda leaned back in her chair as well and took a sip of her tea. Well, she thought, if this is how he wants to play it, I can be just as laid back as he is. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah, I guess they do this once in a while to boost their ratings.”

  Brenda knew she didn’t have the credentials to pull off the “female-not-interested-in-sports” nod of disinterest, so she just murmured a polite “Is that so?” and glanced back at her newspaper. Her nerves were in turmoil, but she tried to calm herself. Obviously, Charlie taping the show from LA for the week wasn’t a secret. And so what if Landers had even seen Charlie Bannister walk into the hotel last night after the taping? The hotel wasn’t particularly close to the studio, but it was close to the ballpark. There was nothing connecting her with him. Landers was just trying to mess with her, like he always did. He was just the class clown lobbing spitballs from t
he corner of the room, trying to start something.

  She was pretending to read the Arts section of the paper when she heard Landers say: “Hey, did you know I played in the Arizona Fall League with Carl Maladente back before both of our rookie seasons?”

  Landers had gone from spitballs to heavy artillery. Okay, so he knew. “No, I didn’t,” she replied carefully, slowly lowering her newspaper. “Are you guys still friends?”

  Landers smiled. He was always the first to laugh when Cipriani or Pasquela pulled a prank on her. Yet she recalled that when Ryan Teeset had told her about his suit being cut to shreds, he hadn’t mentioned Landers as being one of the culprits. Around the clubhouse, Landers just seemed to enjoy getting people’s goat, but Brenda didn’t get a malicious vibe from him. “Yeah, we’re still friends,” Landers replied. “We actually went out and had a couple drinks when we were in Baltimore a few weeks ago.” Here Landers lowered his voice again. “And he mentioned that he and his family were taking a walk around the Inner Harbor when he saw an unusual couple.”

  Sparks and Groggins were still seated at their table, talking about something—Brenda couldn’t hear what. She was too intrigued by the fact that Landers wasn’t announcing the information to the rest of the room. In fact, he seemed to be trying to keep what he knew confidential. This gave her a little more confidence. He could just be waiting for the right moment to embarrass her, or maybe he was just curious. “Really?” she said. “Unusual how?”

  Landers raised an eyebrow, as though he was expecting her to say more or give him a bigger reaction, but he kept his voice low. “You play poker, Haversham?”

  “Not since college,” Brenda said.

  “You oughta play with us sometime,” Landers said with a smile. “I think you’d be good at it.” He stood up. “Make sure you get some rest before the game. I heard you broke curfew last night.” With that, he went back to his table, where Groggins and Sparks were already standing up and getting ready to leave. Brenda noticed that they all left hefty tips for the waitress.