Roshawn pulled her designer handbag into her lap, the Chanel tote an appealing accessory to her two-piece Tahari suit. Searching the interior, she pulled a small envelope from the confines of a side pocket. Inside, Chen had placed two keys, one for an automobile and the other for the front door of her temporary home. Directions, neatly printed on a white index card, accompanied the keys. Although Chen had offered to pick her up from the airport, she had wanted to do this on her own. She would find her way, enjoying every step of the travel as she rediscovered a sense of independence that didn’t involve being a divorced, single mother.
With some assistance from a very young skycap with a head of blond curls and a rash of acne, Roshawn maneuvered her luggage through Phoenix’s Sky Harbor airport to the terminal two parking garage. Just as Chen had noted, the vehicle that belonged to the key in her hand was waiting for her in the second row, fifteenth parking spot. Roshawn stood staring at the Chrysler 300C. The color was linen-gold with eighteen-inch, chrome-clad, aluminum wheels. The sleek design reminded her of an exotic Bentley and Roshawn couldn’t help but be impressed. Chen had promised her a comfortable stay for the next sixteen weeks, but this was beyond her expectations.
“Nice ride,” the young man stated, a wad of chewing gum twisting in his mouth.
Roshawn grinned as she opened the trunk. “Thanks.”
After her luggage was settled, Roshawn passed the guy a folded dollar bill. His expression showed he expected more, but the one Roshawn returned clearly let him know more wasn’t coming. Chen may well have had it like that with his six-figure salary, but she still didn’t have a clue what he intended to pay her to answer telephones in his office for a few hours a day. She intended to stick close to her budget until cash in hand allowed her to do differently. Nodding his thanks, the young man rushed behind a couple struggling with their own luggage, anxiously offering them the services of his cart.
Following the detailed directions from the airport, Roshawn pulled onto Interstate 51 north toward Paradise Valley, and her ex-husband’s former residence. “It’s way bigger than our house, Mommy, but not nearly as big as Daddy and Allison’s,” the girl had said. Ming had told her about the house, her excitement spilling over the telephone lines. She and her father had taken the time to give the home a quick cleaning before stocking it with essentials they thought Roshawn would want when she first arrived.
Roshawn was suddenly overcome with emotion and she pulled her car off to the shoulder, shifting it into park. Stepping from the vehicle she spun about to take in the view. Arizona was spectacular. The day was warm, the mild morning temperatures having risen to a comfortable seventy degrees. The sky was clear, the bright blue color shimmering behind the rays of sunlight that beamed down upon her. On either side of the roadway the landscape stretched out, dry desert with a bush of cacti growing here and there. And then the mountains rose magnanimously, stretching skyward as if trying to touch the edge of the galaxy. It was breathtaking.
As Roshawn sat back in the car and pulled back onto the road, she knew that she would surely not miss the Seattle rains if the balance of her summer days were anything like this one. A few quick turns onto Tatum Boulevard and then Las Brisas, put Roshawn just minutes from her new home. The left turn to Paradise Canyon Road felt as if would take a lifetime to reach and when she did, pulling into the circular drive that led to the split-level Mediterranean-style architecture, she knew instantly that the decision to come to Arizona had been the best suggestion John Chen could have ever had.
The house had been Chen’s first home in Arizona the year he’d been hired as a scouting director for the Titans, Arizona’s expansion league baseball team. It had been the residence he had commuted back and forth to before finally moving away from Seattle for good. During those first two years, on his numerous flights around the States, and back and forth between Phoenix and Washington, he’d met the woman who’d become his second wife. It had been this second wife who’d determined they needed bigger and better to keep up with Chen’s rising status within the Titans’ organization. Chen’s first home had been abandoned, serving as a guesthouse for his parents’ infrequent visits, and periodic rental property for vacationing friends.
Roshawn could only shake her head as she let herself into the home, securing the front door behind her. As she moved from room to room she wasn’t sure if she should laugh, cry, or do both. Maybe divorcing John Chen hadn’t been such a good idea after all, she mused, laughing out loud at the notion. She couldn’t wait to call Bridget and Jeneva to tell them how her little Asian sweetheart had come up in the world.
The four-thousand-square-foot home boasted three luxurious bedrooms, and a fully appointed kitchen with stainless-steel appliances. There was a large game room equipped with a pool table, poker table and Ping-Pong table. Just steps away she entered the media center with a large-screen television set and movie theater chairs that would never have fit into the living room of her Seattle home. A second family room and formal dining area completed one end of the house.
Stepping out onto the patio, Roshawn inhaled the tranquility of the midday air. The home backed up to the mountains and the view was breathtaking. Chen would later explain that the view spanned the southern reach of Mummy Mountain, west across Paradise Valley to Squaw Peak, and north all the way to Desert Mountain. The long, shaded patio was decorated with teak furniture, a built-in gas grill, fire pit and its own cocktail area. The one-acre lot was highlighted by a six-foot-deep swimming pool that lay hidden beneath a specially designed pool cover.
Back inside, Roshawn found her way to the master suite, the Asian accents reminiscent of her own home decor. The connecting bathroom was painted a pale shade of green with the whole back wall a massive glass window that looked outside to the mountains and greenery. What privacy that was offered came from the abundance of plant life that filled the space from floor to ceiling. The doorbell ringing and then Chen and Ming’s voices pushing through the entrance drew her back to the front of the house.
“Hi, Mom!” Ming cheered, throwing herself into her mother’s arms to be hugged. “When did you get here?” The girl stepped back quickly. “You cut all your hair off!” she exclaimed loudly.
Roshawn smiled. “I just arrived a second ago, and yes, I cut my hair.” Roshawn reached to give Chen an embrace, lightly grazing his cheek with her lips.
Ming walked a slow circle around her mother. “I love it. I absolutely love it. You look great!”
Chen nodded. “Takes me back to high school,” he said, his wide gaze sending her a quiet message.
Behind them, Allison Chen stood nervously, not quite sure where she fit in the moment. The expression across the woman’s face was suddenly anxious. Noticing her for the first time, Roshawn smiled warmly.
“Hello, Allison. How are you?”
Allison nodded, waving ever so slightly. “Hi, Roshawn. How was your flight?”
“Very nice. I looked for you.”
Allison smiled, her large brown eyes gleaming widely. “I’m off for the next few days. I don’t fly out again until next week.”
“Aren’t you lucky.”
The woman nodded again, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, a blush of color rising to her alabaster cheeks. “Ming’s been so excited about you coming. She couldn’t wait to get here.”
“Daddy let me drive his Mercedes.”
Roshawn cut her eye in Chen’s direction. “Isn’t Daddy brave.”
The adults laughed as Ming tossed her mother one of her infamous teenaged looks.
“Allison thought you might like to take a tour of the city,” Chen said. “If you’re not too tired we thought we’d take you to lunch and show you around.”
“Unless you had other plans?” Allison said, moving to take Chen’s arm, the possessive gesture duly noted. Her gaze met Roshawn’s and there was just a brief moment when Roshawn sensed that Allison might actually prefer her to have other plans.
Roshawn grinned, mischief gleaming in her
eyes. “Not at all, Allison,” she said. “I’d love to take the tour.”
She reached for her keys and her pocketbook, then grabbed Allison’s hand as she pulled the woman toward the front door. “This will be great,” Roshawn exclaimed. “This will give you and me a chance to get to know each other better. We can sit in the backseat and whisper about Chen. He hates that. Ming, give your father the car keys. You’re riding shotgun.”
“Mom!”
“Don’t mom me. Your father may trust your driving, but I don’t. I taught you, remember?”
Laughing, Chen shook his head. Roshawn was back, and in true form. The state of Arizona didn’t have a clue what was about to hit them.
Chapter 6
Angel Rios surveyed the short walk from his car to the players’entrance at Tucson Electric Park. Spring training was well underway and the team was just days away from their first exhibition game against the Chicago White Sox. Today’s practice was starting at precisely nine-thirty and even at this early morning hour, the man was amazed by the female fans who stood anxiously in wait hoping to catch a player’s eye. Despite the cool morning temperature, there was no shortage of cleavage and thigh pining at the entrance for attention.
He twisted his face in annoyance, having no tolerance for the abrasive overtures that were sure to greet his arrival. He was one of a handful of players who was unmarried, a prime target for the female sex in want of an eligible catch to sink their teeth into. Angel hated the distractions, having no understanding of women who thought aggressively pursuing him and his teammates during the season would actually get them anywhere other than to a hotel room for a one-time cootchie call. Although Angel couldn’t speak for anyone but himself, his want of any woman when he was focused on the season and improving his game barely amounted to the requisite time required to bring him to orgasm.
He heaved a deep sigh as he reached into the backseat of his new Cadillac SRX for his gym bag, his hand palming the soft leather seats of the luxury SUV as he felt for the nylon bag. As he moved to step out of the vehicle, the cell phone in the pocket of his Nike tracksuit chimed against his leg. Pulling the handset from his pocket, he pulled it to his ear, depressing the button to answer the call.
“Hello?”
His father’s deep voice greeted him on the other end. “Angel, donde esta, hijo?” Israel Rios asked.
“Hola, Papí! I’m at the ball field. What’s the matter?”
“Nada. Tú necesita—”
Angel interrupted the man. “In English, Papí. You need to practice your English.”
The man balked but complied, albeit reluctantly. “I speak English just fine,” Israel chastised, his heavy accent punctuating each word. “You need to go see Mr. Chen when you are finished. His office, they call here for you to stop by there to see him.”
Angel nodded into the receiver as he closed the car door and activated the alarm. “I will. Thank you. Everything else is okay with you?”
“Sí. The pretty lady is here cleaning the hotel room. I am going down to breakfast shortly.”
“I don’t know what time I’ll be back, Papí.”
“I will be well. Go do good. Have some fun. Don’t worry about this old man.”
Angel smiled. “Goodbye, Papí.”
“Adiós, hijo.” His name being called pulled at his attention as a young woman no more than eighteen years of age screamed at the top of her lungs. The high-pitched squeal cut through him like fingernails grinding against a chalkboard. Angel forced a smile on his face and waved, making his way toward the entrance.
As he pushed his way through the requests for autographs and pictures, his smile never left his chiseled face. But the minute the door closed securely behind him, shielding him from the unwanted attention, it was game face on. Angel Rios was ready to play.
* * *
John Chen reviewed the latest statistical information on Angel Rios that Roshawn had prepared for him earlier that morning. He was impressed with his ex-wife’s skills, the woman having settled comfortably in her new position. The front office personnel had taken an instant liking to her zealous demeanor and she was making new friends left and right.
Although her outgoing personality was a quality he most admired about her, it had been the one point of consternation during their marriage. Everyone loved Roshawn; and men, in particular, were drawn to her vivaciousness. The fact that she was an exotic, gorgeous black beauty hadn’t helped the situation. Her friendliness had been a sore point for him and the cause of many an argument between them. The sound of her laughter pulled at his attention for a quick moment and Chen struggled to focus back on the paperwork before him, flipping slowly through the detailed spreadsheets.
Twenty-eight years old, Angel Rios was the Titans’ newest and most promising acquisition. A native of the Dominican Republic, Angel’s baseball career had moved smoothly up the minor league ranks, making him an ideal candidate for the major leagues. What Angel was most noted for was his skills with a baseball bat. Boasting a .380 batting average, the man was any ball team’s dream come true. His skills at center field were also on par, making him a winning advantage for the Titans’ growing organization. What Chen admired most about Rios was his focus and dedication to a sport the man loved with his heart and soul.
Roshawn standing in his doorway of his office stole his attention for a second time. “Chen, there’s a Nina Tracy here to see you.”
Chen nodded. “She’s Patrick Tracy’s wife.”
Roshawn smiled. “The third baseman, right?”
“That’s him.”
Roshawn gestured to the thin brunette to go on inside, returning to her desk and the long list of telephone calls still awaiting her attention. Barely ten minutes had passed before Nina was making her exit, closing Chen’s office door securely behind her.
“Men get right on my nerves,” Nina said, her hands falling to her full hips.
Roshawn laughed. “They can’t help it. Not enough blood flow to their brains.”
The two women laughed knowingly.
“So, how can I help? I take it Chen didn’t have a clue?”
The woman smiled, the gesture filling her round face. She pulled her fingers through the length of her brown hair, twirling a stray strand around her finger. “Every year the Titan wives host the Back to School Clothing Drive where we collect socks and underwear for kids in need. I’m this year’s committee chair and we want John to be our acting MC. This year’s fund-raiser is scheduled for the fourth and fifth of June. We’re holding it on the plaza just before the game against Los Angeles. He promised us last year that he’d do it, now he’s not sure he can fit it into his schedule.”
Roshawn shook her head, reaching for the large, leather-bound appointment book on her desk. She flipped through the pages quickly, scanned the month of June, then nodded her head. “It’s not a problem. He’ll be there.”
Nina grinned, still pulling and twisting the hair atop her head. “I like how you work. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Roshawn. Roshawn Bradsher.”
The woman extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Roshawn.”
“It’s nice meeting you. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”
“Let’s plan on it,” Nina responded as she headed for the door. “Thanks for your help, Roshawn.”
Roshawn watched as the woman headed out the door and down the hall. She wanted to laugh out loud but didn’t. She didn’t have a clue who had cut that woman’s head, but the attempted style should have been a hairdresser’s crash course in what not to do to a client. The abrupt styling did absolutely nothing to flatter the woman’s pretty face and it had taken everything in Roshawn not to say so.
A quick glance to her wristwatch pulled her from her seat. She met Chen as he was heading in her direction. “Chen, I need to take a quick break. I have to go to the ladies’ room.”
The man nodded. “No problem. I’m waiting for Angel Rios, then I’m out of here. Yo
u can actually take off whenever you’re ready. I won’t need you any more today.”
“Thanks, boss,” Roshawn chimed with a quick wink. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Have a good night, Roshawn.”
“I will. Kiss my baby girl for me and tell her to call me before she goes to bed, please.”
“I will.”
Clearing off her desk, Roshawn grabbed her tote bag and headed out the door. As she reached the elevator, she paused for a quick minute, then backtracked to the restrooms. As she entered the tastefully decorated lounge, Nina Tracy stood at the well-lit mirror, pulling a wide-toothed comb through the length of her locks.
Roshawn shook her head, unable to resist. “Girl, who in the world cut your hair?”
Nina winced. “Some new place in the mall. I swear if I could sue that damn salon I would. I can’t believe what that fool did to my head.”
Roshawn laughed. “Here,” she said, gesturing toward a plush chair in the center of the room. “Sit down.”
Nina looked at her curiously. “Why? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to fix that mess,” Roshawn said, searching in her bag for her favorite pair of scissors.
Nina’s expression turned anxious. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“As a heart attack. I don’t travel with these things for nothing,” she grinned, opening and closing the shears in midair. “Trust me. You don’t have anything to lose.”
Nina paused for a quick minute, then finally conceded, dropping into the chair. “At this point, it sure can’t hurt.”
Roshawn laughed. “No. This is as bad as it gets.”
Fifteen minutes later, Nina was laughing excitedly, tossing her head from side to side in the mirror as she studied her reflection. “I can’t believe you just did this. It’s great!” she exclaimed, the newly coiffed hairdo falling in a tousled crop against her skull. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It frames your face better. Before, it didn’t have enough layers. It was flat and had no body. This gives you more fullness and you need that.”
Love in the Lineup Page 5