“The jammers were the ones with the stars on their helmet?”
“Yep. See, aren’t you smart,” she said, smiling at him. “The team with the most points at the end is the winner. There’s more to it, more strategy, but let’s let you get used to the basics first. I’m a pivot, and an excellent one. Pivots are the last defense against the jammer scoring. They control the pack—like the quarterback,” she said.
“Mariah’s a jammer.”
“Yep, she’s the running back, with everyone trying to kill her. They are usually smaller in size, quick and fast. Speed is a prerequisite,” Casper said. She and Adam both stood with their backs to the wall, looking at the rink, watching Mariah bob and weave, get knocked down, get up and get by the pivot this time, taking the lead and becoming the lead jammer.
“How much practice is required?”
“Lots. We practice once a week, but that’s because my team’s been playing together forever, and we’re good. Some teams are different. They get together to hang out outside of practice, become like second families in some cases, more involved in each other’s lives. It can take up a lot of your time.”
“Not you?”
“Nope, not me. Between work and derby, you won’t have time for much else, and I do have a girlfriend who I like to spend time with. My team’s limited practicing schedule works for me,” she said. He nodded. “So what’s with you and Mariah?”
“Nothing.”
“So nothing is the reason why you’re here? Drinking beer alone against the wall, hiding out from your father? I heard you lost your ex recently. That’s got to suck.”
“It was for the best,” he found himself saying to his new unlikely friend.
“The best?”
“Let’s just leave it at that.”
“That’s cool,” she said after a few minutes.
“Well, if you’re here for Mariah, here’s some advice, which you can take or leave. She’s hard to get to know, but if you stick with it, you might break through.”
“Break through. Sounds way too serious for me, especially in light of the ex. Not looking to break through to anything. Just looking to hang out.”
“Oh, so it’s like that,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s like that.”
“Good luck with that approach,” she said and took a sip from her beer. He did the same, looking back at the rink and the continuation of the game.
“So where do the teams practice?” he asked.
“Here, depending on the day of the week. Each team has an assigned day. We also practice over at the old skating rink, where the league started. Harper Skate-o-torium, located at the corner of Harper and Jones street. Why?”
“Just curious,” he said. She eyed him for a second and then laughed.
“You know the area?” she asked.
“Yep, I know that area,” he said.
“Sure,” she said and laughed again.
“What?”
“You’re from here?”
“Yes.”
“I grew up here, too, but I bet not in the same part of town. Where did you grow up?” she asked, taking a swallow of beer.
“West Hanover.”
“Oh,” she said, “I forgot. You’re the son of a dentist, and now you’re a dentist.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You probably didn’t hang out near the Skate-o-torium much,” she said and laughed. He didn’t answer and turned back to the game.
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything,” Casper said.
He shrugged and watched another jammer moving up through the pack. If he had a nickel for every time someone, after finding out he was of mixed heritage or that he was the son of a dentist made an assumption about him, he’d have enough funds to buy his own business. He turned his mind back to the match.
These two teams appeared to be evenly matched. The score was separated by five points at the close of the first half, with the Prissy Missies in the lead. He watched as both teams left the rink, headed to their respective locker rooms; he’d lost his new friend Casper before halftime. She’d left to hang with her fellow derby women.
He looked around and considered finding his seat, but decided it was safer here. He did need another beer, however, and left his spot near the wall in search of its replacement. Fifteen minutes later he was back and the skaters were back in their places on the track.
He observed the remainder of the game from his perch against the wall, watching her play. He realized he adored watching her play. Intense, focused, and fearless was the way she played this sport, they way all of the women played, and it was some kind of sexy. He would have to be careful. The fire he saw in her eyes was extremely attractive, compelling even.
He glanced over at his dad, cheering her team on as they were staging a comeback. The score was now tied. He could tell his dad really liked Mariah, and thought she—or someone like her—would make a fine daughter-in-law.
He followed Mariah as she rolled around the track, bumping hard into the other women, pushing and shoving. She was so different from what he thought he wanted, but for some reason captivating.
“So what do you think?” his buddy Casper asked as she walked back over to him. Mariah’s team had won, she’d scored the final two points in the last jam.
“Interesting,” he said, watching.
“So you going to try and hang out with us tonight?” she asked.
“Hang out?”
“We usually go out as a team for drinks after the bout. I tag along with Mariah when I’m free,” she added.
“Maybe,” he said, pretending he could take it or leave it. Casper smiled. She wasn’t fooled.
* * *
Finally a win! She couldn’t remember the last time her team had won. Desperado, one of the jammers for the Missies, had hip-checked her one time to many. She should have punched her, and would have, but fighting was now a penalty. The team needed her too much, so she’d let it pass. Winning was too important. She’d be sore in the morning and she was starting to have recurring pain in her left hip. Sometimes sitting wasn’t easy.
He was here. Junior D.D.S. She’d seen him enter when she lined up to be introduced, saw him off and on throughout the match, when her mind should have been on the derby. Yes, he was one fine man.
She skated off the rink and saw him standing next to Casper, caught his smile and the nod of his head. She would have to go over and say something. Who was she kidding; she wanted to and she didn’t.
He was here for her, of course—and that was not conceit talking. That was men and you-look-good-in-your-almost-next-to-nothing outfit talking. She’d seen that look in his eyes the night he realized she wasn’t the abuse victim and again last week at the Taco Post. Now he’d probably decided that she would make another nice sort of victim. Men were so predictable.
“Hey, Casper,” she said, giving one of her sexiest smiles to Adam. She kept her eye on him for a second before turning her attention to Casper. “Well?” she said, preparing herself for Casper and her end-of-the-game critiques.
“Good job. You’re getting better. Your timing’s improving, helped you get by Delicious that last jam,” Casper said as Adam looked on.
“I invited your boy here to join us for drinks following the game, to help us celebrate. You still want to come?” Casper asked, looking over at him.
“Maybe,” he said.
Mariah was quiet, looking at Casper, communicating who knew what. “We usually hang out at this bar, Pinky’s Place. Ever heard of it?” Mariah asked, turning to face him now.
“No.”
“Pinky’s is just up the street from here, a few blocks north, at the corner of Forty-fifth and Sylvester. Think you can find it?” she asked, skating closer to him.
“Sure. What time will you be there?” he said, looking down into her eyes. He moved his hand to her waist.
Mariah turned her head to Casper. “What time are we done here, close to 9:30? We should be there around
ten,” she said, returning to face him.
“Ten works,” he said.
“I’ll see you around,” Casper said, leaving them alone.
“Pinky’s,” he said, both hands on her waist now.
“Yep. Pinky’s,” she said, not moving, looking up into his eyes. He was such an easy read—full tank, engine a-revving to go.
“Maybe we could hang out afterwards,” he said.
“That sounds like fun,” she said, moving her arms to surround his neck.
“We’ll talk about it later,” he said, his arms rubbing her sides lightly as he pulled her in closer, eyes on her lips. The front of their bodies touched now and there was no mistaking what he wanted from her. He smiled. His smile packed a powerful punch.
“I need to change,” Mariah said.
“Don’t,” he whispered, touched his lips lightly, quickly to hers. She just smiled her sexiest smile. She gave him another smile over her shoulder as she skated away.
She was something else. He cleared his throat and followed the sway of her ass as she moved away, pleased with tonight’s outcome and the potential the rest of the night presented. His blood started in with its energetic humming. He’d meet her at Pinky’s and see if things could move in a direction he wanted. Tonight was looking good.
* * *
He spotted Pinky’s from a block away. It was hard to miss. He stopped for cash, killing time; didn’t want to be sitting there waiting, like some sick pup. He wasn’t that hard up.
Pinky’s, not surprisingly, was decked out in pink—a Pepto-Bismol pink. The bar had a pink brick façade and a pink elephant on top. He parked in front and made his was to an equally pink leather door.
He entered, looking around. He was surprised to find it empty. He checked his watch; it was a little after ten now, maybe they were running late. He’d sit at the bar and wait.
An hour later, he checked his watch for the last time. No need. He knew. At 11:30 he paid his tab and left. It was official. He had been stood up. No sign of anybody derby-related. She’d given him the wrong place deliberately, so that meant what? She wasn’t interested. He was surprised. She didn’t seem angry about his earlier assumptions, but rather seemed on board when he stood in front of her. He knew desire when he saw it. Had he misjudged her again? He couldn’t recall ever being this off on signals. Jamie, the ex, was always in his head, a constant reminder of his past mistakes, and now this. He should go home. She wasn’t his type anyway, but for some reason, garbed in those clothes, she had him coming back to first the derby and then here.
* * *
Mariah stood at the end of a large table, a pad in her hand. She was playing waitress for her team. She knew what working through a dinner rush was like, so her allegiance always fell in with the waitresses. She looked over the table at all of her teammates; ten, plus Delusional, Casper, and Casper’s girlfriend, all here to celebrate their victory. Who knew they could win a game?
They’d arrived at her brother’s place around 10:15 and pulled a bunch of tables together. Joshua’s dinner crowd had dwindled. Mariah was making her way around the table taking the drink orders.
“Dos Equis,” Casper said from her place at the end of the table. Mariah really hadn’t needed to ask it had been Casper’s drink of choice since high school. Casper’s girlfriend was the white wine kind of girl.
“White wine, right, Amanda?” she asked for confirmation.
“Yes,” the attractive blonde sitting next to Casper said. Next to Amanda sat Delusional, who preferred Miller Lite.
“What about you, Reagan?” She was the other African-American on her team. Her derby name was Attitude Adjuster. She sat in between Disillusioned and Miss Thang Sally, a blocker, sometimes pivot for her team, who was not fond of men. At all.
“Vodka and orange juice,” Sally said.
Lisa, aka Little Catholic School Girl, ordered her usual cranberry juice. Lisa was a jammer, sometimes a blocker, who packed a mean punch for such a little girl. She was four feet of nice, but would kick ass if called upon.
Good & Plenty, a blocker who was large enough for two, drank beer. Alyse—Asian Persuasion—liked beer, too. She was soft-spoken until she set foot on the track; then it was on. Team co-captain Becca—AlterKayShawn—preferred water, and Dee—Dirty South—the other co-captain, always did the healthy green tea thing. Then there was Jen—Ms. Nomer, the tequila shot queen, and Courtney—Diabolical, and finally Peyton—Miss Creant and Disillusioned, both drank water with a lime twist.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” Mariah said, all drink orders taken.
“Did Mariah tell you about ditching her dentist tonight?” Casper said as she watched Mariah walk away.
“What dentist?” Reagan asked.
“Hers. He’s actually the son of her dentist, who’s been out of commission. He wanted to go out with her tonight, to drink with her girls, to celebrate their win,” she added.
“So where is he?” Good & Plenty asked, looking around.
“At Pinky’s Place,” Casper said, all drama. She sat back, pleased to have passed along that little bit of info. “That’s where Mariah told him she’d be. She ditched him on purpose. Not friendly is our Mariah,” she added.
“I didn’t ditch him,” Mariah said, walking over to them, setting the tray with the first set of drinks on the empty table next to them. “I thought we were going to Pinky’s Place, but you guys said you wanted to come here and I couldn’t find him to tell him different.”
The women around the table laughed.
“Did you even look?” Lisa asked. She knew Mariah well.
“Of course I did. I stood next to my car and called for him. Adam,” Mariah said, her voice soft. “Adam,” she said again. “I can’t imagine why he didn’t hear me.” They laughed again.
“Mariah,” Sally said with awe, shaking her head. “I love you.” She was always pleased when someone stuck it to a man. It wasn’t good to be on Sally’s side, Mariah thought, and the lift of Casper’s eyebrows when Mariah glanced over at her told her that also.
Mariah made a face at Casper for telling them about the dentist. She handed the last drink to Lisa, sat the beer she had gotten for herself down on the table, and walked over to the counter to pick up the remaining drink orders.
“What does he look like?” Lisa asked
“Fine. And I’m not into men. He’s about six feet, two inches, has black, thick, run-through-your-fingers hair, nice body. He’s not too lean. I hate skinny, and he’s not that. He has some really beautiful hazel eyes behind some nice black-rimmed glasses, like Clark Kent,” she said.
“Who is Clark Kent?” Reagan asked, looking confused.
“Superman’s alter ego.”
“I thought that was Toby McGuire,” Reagan said with the same confused expression.
“Spiderman,” Lisa said.
“Oh,” Reagan said, still confused.
“I ordered the usual junk food for you bitches, with some healthy shit for Jen and Peyton,” Mariah said, resorting to the normal way they conversed with each other as she made her way to the table with the remaining drinks, some nachos, and fruit for the healthier ladies.
After her team was settled in with food and drinks and the discussion had returned to derby talk, Mariah’s mind drifted to Adam. She took a sip of her beer, half listening to the other talk. Okay, she wasn’t sure why she’d sent Adam to Pinky’s. Fear? Maybe. She was there with him after the bout, pleased to have her arms around him, loved the feel of his solid muscular strength holding her. She had just about lost her mind, taking in his face, all pretty and staring back at her like he could feast for a while.
She had seen that look in his eye the night of the derby, the same one he always wore now, the same one she’d seen him exchange with his buddy, the one conveying deep interest in what was under her skirt. And she was so there with him, but to what end? So she’d done them both a favor and sent him to Pinky’s. Perhaps now he would get the message.
He would
leave her alone—she was already too much work. No way would he call her after that, because ultimately she wasn’t his type. They were from two different worlds.
She tuned in to the conversation around her. “I’m just saying it’s not the same derby,” Sally said, as she tuned back into her teammates and moved thoughts of Adam out of her mind for good…she hoped.
* * *
Adam sat in his apartment, his feet up on the coffee table, wishing he knew how to get in touch with Mariah. He had her on the brain. He had given some thought to letting it go, especially in light of what he now believed was a deliberate brush-off at Pinky’s Place.
He had never, in all his years of dating, gotten ditched, stood up, whatever the term was. He would be the one doing the ditching if there was any ditching to be done, and he’d never ditched anyone. He’d been late, but he’d never just not shown up.
His cell rang. He checked the caller ID. It was Michael.
“Hey, dude,” he said.
“What’s up?”
“Not much.”
“What are you doing at home again, on this night for hanging out? What happened to sex on wheels?” Michael asked, with humor in his voice.
“I went to the roller derby last Saturday.”
“I knew it. You liked her. I could tell.”
“Yep. I went back to see her and she sent me over to Pinky’s Place afterwards and didn’t show. Left me sitting at the bar all by my lonesome.”
Michael laughed.
“Exactly,” Adam said.
“So what’s next?”
“I can take a hint,” he said.
“I feel you. Me and a few buddies of mine are headed downtown. You up for it?”
“Maybe. Where?” he said,
“Dazzle’s, Sixth and Guadalupe.”
“Give me thirty,” he said, hanging up.
He was ready to get back in the game, at least in the mindless sex game. Mariah had awakened that need in a strong way. In spite of what he said to his buddy, he was going to try again. It wasn’t like he had much else to do, or at least that was the rationale he was going with. He stood up, walked over and grabbed his laptop. He powered up his computer and found the derby’s website again, searching for what exactly, he didn’t know. He hoped he would come up with an excuse to see her. Something other than showing up at her practices. He could get her number from her dental records at the office, but that went against his code. He didn’t stalk.
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