The Sweet Spot

by Stephanie Evanovich

  Amanda knew what chi is. According to Taoism and the other Chinese thought, chi is the vital force is believed to be inherent in all things. It is the balance of positive and negative energies in the body. It was that knowledge that lent itself to Amanda’s conclusion that every time she tried to venture away from hers, catastrophes were likely to follow. To hear Gertie say it made perfect sense.

  “I think mine could use a little feng shui,” Amanda admitted.

  Gertie studied Amanda for a moment before announcing, “You know what you need?”

  Amanda grimaced uncomfortably. That particular question was one Chase had asked her playfully a hundred times. The answer to it was exactly what had landed her where she currently found herself.

  “What?”

  Gertie was already reaching for the nearby phone, mounted old-school to the wall. “Drum circle.”

  CHAPTER 15

  GERTIE TOOK AMANDA inland to the house of friends. There Amanda was introduced to three women and one man. Their ages varied, but Amanda guessed the youngest to be about fifty. Like Gertie, they were all mellow and easygoing, dressed casually and comfortably. The hostess led them to a windowed sunporch in the back of her house. Fold-out chairs were arranged in a circle in the center of the room. Along the wall were a dozen drums of various shapes and sizes. There were big freestanding drums and smaller handheld bongos. Everyone picked out a drum and moved to a chair. Amanda chose a medium one.

  “What do I do now?” she whispered to Gertie after taking the seat next to her.

  “You play your drum.” Gertie smiled at her, saying nothing more.

  Amanda hesitated, lightly running her fingers over the skin on the top of the bongo that was wedged between her legs. The other members of the circle began to play their drums while she watched for a minute. Some held their drums differently, like under their arm. One drum was big enough to sit on the floor independently. Some members closed their eyes while others seemed to enter into a trance, staring off into space. All were unconcerned about the others in the room. Amanda tentatively tapped her drum.

  The sound was barely heard within the sounds of the other drums. Then she tapped it harder. The vibration reverberated from the drum between her legs, and she patted it several times in a row. It felt good to hit something. It was as if all her anger and frustrations about her current situation were being called up to the surface. She banged her drum harder. Chase popped into her mind. Suddenly she could see the allure that spanking held for him and what it was like to be on the other end of it. She thought about his secret, which he dragged her into without warning or permission. How he seduced and charmed her before introducing her to his fetish and then converted it into hers. How he made it the touch she sometimes wanted most. It didn’t take long before she was beating her drum over and over, picturing his ass and then his face as she let out all her unexpressed feelings of having no control and things she couldn’t change. All the insecurity and responsibility he had bombarded her with since he first walked into her life and insisted she share his. By the time she was done a half hour later, she had broken out into an exhaustive sweat. And she was the only one left drumming.

  She looked at the other members of the circle. In her frenzy, she had forgotten they were there. They were all waiting for her to finish up, all with small, knowing smiles. Drum-circle newbie.

  “Good job,” Gertie said as she and the rest of the members got up and returned their drums to the wall. Amanda did the same, but awkwardly and with the general sense that she had done something wrong. They were all placid while she had to catch her breath. She remained quiet as they enjoyed water flavored with mint and the others spoke of local goings-on.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow?” the hostess asked politely as she walked them to the door.

  For the next five days, Amanda and Gertie went back to the drum circle. With the exception of the hostess, it wasn’t always those she had met the first day. But everyone she met was gracious and accepting of her. No one was the least bit interested in her backstory, or even if she had one. They weren’t interested in forcing their histories on her. They were all very meditative and introspective, always talking and acting positively and in the moment. She stopped worrying about who might or might not recognize her.

  And for five days, Amanda continued to beat the living hell out of her drum. During that time, she focused mostly on Chase. She used the opportunity to view him in a different light. As the entitled and spoiled cocreator of the mess her life had become with shades of he was a total package complete with pluses and minuses. She left each drum circle mentally and physically exhausted, all anger depleted. Gertie would drop her off at her house and she would immediately fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. Amanda would wake up the following morning refreshed and calm. She started acknowledging his part in their fiasco instead of blaming only herself.

  On the sixth day, something changed. Amanda wasn’t angry anymore, with herself or anyone else. Beating the Chase drum no longer held the same savage appeal. She had finally realized that Chase Walker wasn’t some superhero or demigod, but a flesh-and-blood human being, complete with imperfections and subject to making mistakes. Just like her. And when she finally allowed him to be a mere mortal, she began to hear the sounds of the other drums. She started to find beats and rhythms, something that seemed to have escaped her previously. When the circle was done, she wasn’t sweating and heaving, but as placid as the other drum-circle participants. It was a significant change and it felt great.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” Amanda said to Gertie as they drove home.

  “I know.” Gertie smiled.

  “How do you know?” Amanda asked, surprised by the older woman’s response.

  Gertie paused before explaining. “When you are in a drum circle, the objective is to find balance, to share the rhythm and get in tune with yourself and each drummer. To form a group consciousness by feeding off the energy generated by the other members. It becomes a collective voice that emerges from the individual members as they drum together. Today you became part of a beautiful voice. Before then it was all about working out whatever issues you were dealing with on that poor drum.”

  Amanda laughed. “Yeah, that thing didn’t stand a chance.”

  “I knew you would get there. We all did. We have faith in you. What did you want to tell me?”

  “I didn’t really break up with my boyfriend. In fact, he’s not even my boyfriend, but my fiancé. I ran away from him when he needed me most. He doesn’t have a clue where I am and in all probability is terribly worried.” Amanda felt an intangible weight lifting off her shoulders with finally coming clean.

  “I see,” Gertie replied.

  “I know it sounds awful. You probably don’t think very much of me now.”

  “It’s not my job to judge. I’m sure you had your reasons for what you did,” Gertie told her.

  “He’s rich,” Amanda blurted; it was time to lay it all out there. “And he’s famous. We sort of got caught up in a scandal.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” Gertie mused.

  It didn’t take Amanda more than a few seconds for her newfound friend’s words to sink in.

  “You know who I am?” Amanda asked, torn between betrayal and the all-encompassing relief that she had just been saved from telling the story out loud.

  “I said I didn’t watch much television; I didn’t say I lived under a rock.” Gertie gave a half laugh.

  “How long have you known?”

  “A while,” Gertie said noncommittally as she pulled into her stone driveway. “I found out quite by accident. Want to come in and talk a bit? Have some chamomile tea? If I drink coffee now, I’ll be up all night.”

  Amanda wanted to be cross with the woman, but it was impossible. Gertie had spent the better part of a week helping Amanda sort through her feelings from the sidelines. She had helped her see her way through the dark and back into the light without trying to sway her in an
y direction. Gertie had been an answer to a prayer. And prayers are not always answered in the way you expect or even want.

  Amanda followed Gertie into the house and took her regular seat at the kitchen table while Gertie put on the teakettle and let Bingo out into her small fenced-in yard.

  “Do you think I’m sick?” Amanda finally asked.

  It was the first time since they had met that Gertie conveyed a sentiment that was other than completely tranquil. “That’s the problem with young people. You all think that every time you stumble across something, it’s a new discovery. People have been tying and beating each other up for centuries. Haven’t you ever heard of the Marquis de Sade?”

  “Didn’t they stick him in prison?”

  “You do have a point there.” Gertie’s cheerful disposition returned as quickly as it had departed. “And sometimes I think a jail cell is a better alternative than having to answer to the court of public opinion. Thanks to modern technology, folks who aren’t qualified to make a decision about what’s for dinner now have the ability to make snap judgments at a moment’s notice, and what’s worse, the ability to voice them without having to stand behind what they say. It gives whole new meaning to the words witch hunt.”

  The teakettle began to whistle and Gertie got up to pour their tea as Amanda silently watched. Gertie was not only wise, she was savvy.

  “You know what else I find interesting? Your generation really seems to enjoy their pain. They seek it out. Back in the day, you got one tattoo of something that was really meaningful, telling everyone how excruciating it was to have it put there. Now kids cover every square inch of their bodies with intricate designs and elaborate detail. They get all these piercings, some with holes in their ears big enough to drive a car through. They don’t try to escape pain; they move toward it. The marquis would’ve been proud. At the very least, he was onto something.”

  Gertie wasn’t only sharp, she was thought-provoking. It was clear that Gertie had given a lot of thought to Amanda while still keeping her own counsel.

  “I never really looked at it like that,” Amanda said.

  Gertie brought the mugs over, and after placing one in front of Amanda, sat back down across from her. Both of them began the unconscious ritual of lifting their tea bags in and out of the hot water while Gertie finished up what Amanda surmised was as close to a tangent as she got. “And I always take television with a grain of salt. I watch a lot of BBC. I don’t know what the fascination is with all these programs on regular TV. Game shows I get, but the reality-show nonsense? What’s so dang interesting about watching someone else living their life?”

  They sipped their tea while Gertie regained her center after ranting.

  “How did you find out?” Amanda asked, trying out her first real post-scandal conversation.

  “You want to see?” Gertie broke into a grin that could only be defined as girlish. She didn’t wait for Amanda to respond before standing up. “Come on, follow me.”

  They went into the living room and sat down. Gertie picked up the remote and turned on her television, going to her DVR lineup. She chose an episode of Derrick Baxter. Baxter was a popular political commentator with an hour-long show on one of the news cable networks.

  “You record Derrick Baxter?” Amanda asked, puzzled.

  “Never miss him,” Gertie replied with a big grin. “He’s so distinguished, very sexy.”

  It was funny to think of Gertie getting all giddy while watching the bow-tie-wearing, salt-and-pepper-haired conservative. But as Gertie rewound to the spot she wanted Amanda to see, the video began showing a blurry image that was instantly recognizable and Amanda felt the blood start to heat up right in her veins. Gertie stopped at the beginning of a segment and Amanda started squirming in her seat.

  The piece started about a country that put too much emphasis on its perceived heroes, and although she would’ve liked nothing more than to turn away, she couldn’t. She was busy looking at the picture of Chase that was in the upper right-hand corner of the screen as Baxter spoke, his words barely registering. There was a scene of him that she had seen before when the story first broke, surrounded by security as they quickly escorted him to or from his apartment. All the warmth she felt when she saw him immediately started simmering. Then the shot cut to video footage, a clip of Chase standing at his locker in the Kings locker room, surrounded by bright lights and a sea of reporters. Amanda’s breath hitched. He was live, and this was the first time she had seen him in weeks. She wanted to rush to Gertie’s twenty-inch television and touch the screen to try to get closer to him, but didn’t want to miss a second of what she was seeing. Him.

  He looked relaxed, lucid, and unruffled, despite the microphones and tape recorders that were above and all around him. Baxter’s show didn’t air the question that was asked, only Chase’s small smile and his careless shrug before he spoke:

  “I realize you guys have a story to work, but I would ask that you try to be mindful of one thing. This isn’t someone I picked up off the streets to engage in what is being labeled by some as twisted behavior. This is the woman I love and was hoping to marry. Depending on how well you do your jobs, that may or may not now be possible. I’m starting to call a doghouse home.”

  There was a general rise of laughter and Chase joined in with a small laugh of his own before he continued. Amanda was hanging on every word, trying to memorize every expression he made. “We are two consenting adults who were having a silly private moment that someone unfortunately chose to take advantage of in the hopes of making a quick buck. If there’s nothing earth-shattering going on in the world right now that this needs to be a front-page story, I guess we’re grateful. I wish our charities got this much attention. That’s my official statement, and from here on out, I’m going to get back to baseball.”

  The television cut back to Baxter, and he started spouting off his opinion. To Amanda’s surprise, Derrick Baxter was taking the there’s no longer any honor among thieves side, and accused the mainstream media of purposefully neglecting to show the rest of the tape and the make-out session that followed, which, in his humble opinion, effectively blew any abuse allegations out of the water. And two kids who might play a little rougher than some made bad poster children for domestic violence, a topic that deserved serious attention.

  Chase had spoken in terms of “we” and “our” as if she were still with him and not cowering behind Ray-Bans in Nags Head. He had covered for her even though she was states away and he was clueless as to her whereabouts, had even alluded to the fact she had every right to be angry with him. He was still being a team player, a team she had forsaken when the going got tough.

  And as Derrick continued to air his views, the screen cut to a stock photo taken of them at a fund-raiser, and Amanda felt all the breath leave her. She tried to inhale, but the grip of missing him combined with the scope of what she had done to him wouldn’t let go of her airway.

  Gertie pushed the Stop button on her remote and the image was gone. Amanda finally reached oxygen.

  “You two look beautiful together. You both radiate. Good aura all around that,” Gertie said, before adding, “And he’s hot.”

  Hearing a seventy-year-old woman use the word hot with such vigor set Amanda to laughing out loud. “Yes, Gertie, he is. But he’s also incredibly sweet. I don’t think since I met him, he’s ever said an unkind word to me.”

  “That says a lot about a man.”

  “Do you think I made too much of this?”

  “I think you made as much of it as you had to.”

  “Do you get ESPN?”

  “I have basic cable.” Gertie pretended to be insulted.

  “Do you mind if we put it on? He’s got a game.”

  “And just how would you know that, missy?” Gertie smiled knowingly.

  “Because I started watching some television and checked the cable guide. If I hadn’t had my catharsis, I was going to swipe a drum and beat it every time they showed him. Now I
’d just like to see him while I figure out if I should call him as soon as the game’s over or wait to see him in person.”

  They turned on the game at the bottom of the fourth inning. There were sweeping shots of him that made Amanda’s heart flutter. But it wasn’t until the sixth when he got up to bat.

  She wasn’t ready for the alteration.

  His smile had been replaced with a scowl. His eyes were dull. Not vacant—there was still plenty of fire—but there was no joy. All the boyish sparkle was gone. What was left was scary to see. Amanda hoped she was the only one who saw it. That it was only guilt brought on by having to watch her consequences in action. She prayed that, to the rest of the world, he just looked like the King of Diamonds getting his A-game playoff face on. He fouled off the first three pitches in a row. She could feel his fury every time he took a swing, and when the fourth pitch was thrown, he hit it with such force the bat splintered. He stood there watching it till it made its way out of the stadium. He ran the bases, his expression never changing, and jogged his way back to the dugout. Before ducking in, he stared right into a camera, the coldest, iciest stare Amanda didn’t believe him capable of, and her gasp was audible.

  It was like he knew she was there.

  “That’s the man you’ve been telling me about?” Gertie asked, trying not to sound alarmed.

  “Yeah,” she replied, feeling the most awful twist in the pit of her stomach.

  “Honey, I think it’s about time you start hightailing it back to where you came from. You don’t want that boy coming to find you.”

  CHAPTER 16

  CHASE KICKED THE treadmill’s speed up a few more notches, the incline as well, and ran at full speed for another three minutes. Sweat poured off him, but the same focused expression he had been carrying around for weeks never changed. There was an untouchable coldness to him, and while he was never rude to anyone, he was definitely not the same man. After he finished, he took only a minute to catch his breath, pacing the whole time. When he set the bench press’s weight up another ten pounds for the third time and went to lie down, Logan felt it was finally time to step in.