Strike (Gentry Generations)

by Cora Brent

  When I got home the kitchen light was on, the table occupied by the only true night owl in the family besides me. My mother looked up when I walked through the door, the legal sized pads full of dense, incomprehensible notes spread before her. The sight of an empty notebook had always induced waves of warm nostalgia because it reminded me of my mother and her quest to fill all the unwritten lines with words.

  “Late night again,” she commented when I pulled up a chair.

  “Me or you?”

  She looked at me knowingly. “I was referring to you.” She rose, filled a glass with milk and set it before me. I drank it with gratitude.

  My mother stood behind me and separated my hair, pushing two halves over each shoulder the way she used to do when I was a child and she was getting ready to braid it. “He’s special, isn’t he? Dalton. I could tell when I met him. The way he looked at you.”

  I wiped my milk moustache away. “He’s very special.”

  She leaned forward and hugged me. “He’d have to be to deserve you.” She kissed my cheek and returned to playing with my hair. “So now you know, Camille.”

  “What?”

  “The lightning strike. I always told you it could come out of nowhere.”

  I could see my reflection in the dark kitchen window. I was smiling.

  “Yes. Now I know.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Dalton

  Griffin was talking but I wasn’t really listening because I was staring out the window at something out of the ordinary.

  A local news van had pulled up in front of the curb at Aqua Room and started belching out people and equipment. Two heavyset guys were laboring under the direction of a woman in a red suit. When she turned her head I thought she looked familiar. Maybe she’d been in the club before or maybe I’d seen her on the news. She received a phone call that appeared to piss her off and then she started barking at the men, who shrugged and then stuffed the camera equipment back in the van.

  “Hey, Dalton,” Griffin said, sounding irritable. “Kind of mentioning something important. You think you could pay attention?”

  “Yeah, sorry.” I turned away from the window and faced my friend and boss. He’d made himself comfortable at a table in the middle of the empty club but he had a troubled look on his face. It was only ten a.m. but he had a shot of whiskey in front of him.

  “What’s with the circus outside?” I asked, sinking into a chair across from him.

  Griffin blinked. “What circus?”

  “News crew. Pulled up outside and then took off.” It wasn’t uncommon for the press to show up and feature the resort in some way but usually an email went out informing management so we could see to it the staff knew to be on their best behavior.

  Griffin swallowed his shot, grimaced and set his glass down on the table. “Oh, that. Probably has something to do with Anders’ announcement.”

  “What’s our resident congressman announcing?”

  “He’s going to announce a run for senator or governor or some shit. I don’t keep track. He’s out there on the green right now but he should be finished any minute and he called for a press conference at the clubhouse this morning.”

  I thought of Anders, the clean-cut, magnetic politician who probably clocked in far more days at Wild Spring than he did in Washington D.C. His public persona was that of a dedicated family man but from my point of view he sure spent a lot of time hanging around here with women who weren’t his wife. After meeting him a few times I had him classified as a typical politician, phony and narcissistic. But his family and Griffin’s had ties that went back a long way so Griffin turned a blind eye to whatever Anders and his entourage were up to. Frankly, I didn’t think the resort ought to be used as a playground for scandalous elites but that was Griffin’s call, not mine.

  “Was that what you were trying to tell me?” I asked. “That there’s going to be press around here today?”

  “No. I was asking you about the Carerra woman.”

  “Who?”

  “We hired her as Cat Caren. Stage name.”

  “Ah, the singer.” My eyes automatically went to the club stage, summoning the image of the pretty black-haired singer with the soulful voice.

  “Have you seen her around the club?” he asked.

  “Not since last Thursday. Her sets are only on Wednesday and Thursday. She should be here tonight. Why, do you have a crush?”

  “No. And you can expect that you’ll probably have to find an alternate form of entertainment.”

  I was surprised. If there was an HR issue then Anne Carter should have let me know. Griffin didn’t usually involve himself in such things. “Why’s that?”

  “She’s missing.” He held up his glass. “You mind if I take another shot of whiskey?”

  “Dude, you own the place. What do you mean she’s missing?”

  Griffin went to the bar, poured himself another full shot and quickly sucked it back. “I got a heads up from a detective buddy. The woman’s roommate apparently called her in as a missing person but they checked out her history and she bounces around a lot, doesn’t often give notice about where she’s going next, so she might have just moved on. How long has she been working here?”

  “She just started a few weeks ago.”

  “And you’re sure you haven’t seen her?”

  I thought for a moment. “No. Like I said, I haven’t seen her since last week. Hey, why are you doing the questioning on this topic instead of the cops?”

  Griffin left his shot glass on the bar and returned to the table. “Because it’s not even a sure thing that she’s missing and because having friends in the precinct means being privy to certain considerations.”

  The conversation was disquieting. If there was even a chance something had happened to Cat Caren then there should be more questions being asked. “What’s the name of your cop buddy?” I asked. “I’ll give him a call later, see if there’s any way I can help.”

  Griffin waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you know if they need anything from you. Who knows, maybe she’ll turn up tonight and it won’t even be an issue.”

  “Maybe,” I said but I wasn’t convinced.

  Griffin was grinning at me now. “You’ve been busy lately, my friend. I was shocked when you turned down an invitation to go mountain biking up north on Sunday. I thought pointless, grueling physical exertion was your specialty.”

  I averted my eyes. Griffin would be on the hunt for dirty details and I wasn’t about to hand them out where Cami was concerned. “I’ve been coaching a lot at the baseball facility.”

  He grinned more broadly. “You’re a fucking liar. Look, I’m not gonna bust your balls for chasing after a college girl if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “That wasn’t what I was thinking.”

  “She’s young and hot. Nothing wrong with that. I’m glad to see you getting your freak on after what happened last year with that she devil.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s history, Griffin. Let’s stick to the present and future.”

  He slapped his hand on the table. “That’s the idea, boy. By the way, both my present and future wouldn’t mind a second introduction to that sweet sister of hers. What was her name? Cassie?”

  “Eh, I think she has a boyfriend,” I said even though I was pretty sure it wasn’t true. Griffin’s attitude toward women was a little callous and nothing good was likely to come from him getting involved with Cami’s sister.

  Griffin shrugged. “Maybe that’ll change at some point. In the meantime I’m not exactly at a loss for options,” he said. Then he lightly kicked my leg under the table. “You really like this girl. I can tell. You never were one to casually fuck around. You’re either all in or you’re all out.”

  I didn’t answer Griffin’s comment but it didn’t matter. He had me figured out when it came to some things.

  “I keep meaning to bring this up again, and now seems as good a time as any,” Griffin said. �
��Why don’t you accept my investment offer for the youth facility? We’ve got property holdings all over the valley and I’m sure one of them could transition to a permanent location. Hell, I’ll even come down and coach sometimes.”

  Griffin’s offer probably came from a generous place. I didn’t know how to tell him that I didn’t want his family’s money involved.

  “Thanks for the offer,” I said. “I’ve actually got a really promising lead that looks like it might pan out.”

  “You let me know if it doesn’t,” Griffin said and I could tell by the rather flat look in his eyes that he didn’t believe me.

  A few minutes later Griffin had to leave to go do whatever Griffin does. I checked my watch, noting it was too early to swing by the spa and collect Cami for lunch. That was too bad because the press conference was probably underway and given her reporter ambitions she’d definitely be interested. I remembered she’d even asked about the congressman because she’d seen him around the resort.

  Since there wasn’t any more pressing Aqua Room business to deal with in the middle of the morning I decided to ride down to the golf course and see if I could get a glimpse of the action.

  I took one of the golf carts that were stowed in a garage behind the building and headed for the green. The big event must have just ended because the news trucks in the golf club parking lot were packing it in. I saw the unhappy reporter who had mistakenly wound up in front of Aqua Room earlier. When I got close enough to hear the words coming out of her mouth it seemed she was wrapping up a summary of the press conference in front of one of the long suffering camera men.

  “And so it was confirmed here today on the Wild Spring Resort Golf Club that Congressman Anders will indeed be running for governor of the state of Arizona. There is also some early buzz that Anders might be the party favorite to run on the ticket in the next presidential election cycle. While the future remains to be seen, Anders is officially a candidate in the Arizona governor’s race. Back to you in the studio, Tim.”

  While the reporter was in the middle of her spiel I slowly drove the golf cart right behind her and wildly waved to the camera for no reason. Just because sometimes my inner jackass still saw fit to put in an appearance.

  Congressman Anders was standing at the Wild Spring Golf Club entrance shaking hands and grinning for photo ops. His grim-faced bodyguards who never ventured very far from his side must have been sweating their nuts off in their dark suits but they stood at attention and surveyed the crowd with suspicion. There was an attractive thirtyish blonde I recognized from Anders’ publicity billboards featuring his happy, suntanned family complete with blue skies, beautiful wife and adorable sons. The woman whispered something in her husband’s ear that caused him to give one last languid wave like he was the fucking king of England before disappearing indoors. The fact that his arm affectionately circled his wife’s waist the whole time made me remember what a damn phony douchebag he was.

  Last night I’d seen him at the club, emerging from a private room with his favorite girl on his arm while she discreetly wiped her mouth with a tissue. The image couldn’t have been more tacky and reminded me that I’d need to have another talk with Griffin about the fact that the private club rooms he made available to his friends weren’t supposed to be used as fuck caves. Last time I said that he’d only laughed and insisted we couldn’t regulate what people did with their genitals.

  The news crews were all actively departing and I was still sitting there in my golf cart and contemplating the sordid private world of Congressman Anders when I noticed I wasn’t the only one hanging around.

  The first time I ever saw the woman up close I realized she was younger than she seemed at first. Expensive clothes and heavy makeup couldn’t add years. If I had to guess I’d say she probably wasn’t any older than Cami.

  She was more covered up than usual even though the day was shaping up to be a typical summer scorcher. In the last few months I’d caught sight of her lounging beside the pool a few times and wondered if she actually lived here at the resort. The long black hair that usually hung loose was pulled into a tight bun today and her enormous sunglasses coupled with the oversized white shirt she’d pulled on over her pink dress gave her an air of fragility. She was leaning against a palm tree trunk and wistfully watching the door to the Wild Spring Golf Club. The same door Anders himself had disappeared through a moment earlier.

  I’d only ever heard her first name used. It was Deb. Usually she strutted around with a cool kind of arrogance but today she looked small and uncertain. Somehow I felt sorry for her.

  Her head snapped in my direction as if she’d heard my thoughts and didn’t appreciate them. She gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement and then started walking away.

  “Dalton Tremaine,” boomed a voice and I looked up to see Harold Fulton standing in front of me with his hand extended.

  I shook the man’s hand, feeling a little awed because he was one of the greatest sluggers ever to play the game. Retired before I was ever drafted into the majors, he stayed here in the Phoenix area where he’d played for so many years. He remained active in the public eye, doing a ton of local charity work. I’d seen him around before but we’d never met. He happened to be at the resort this morning practicing his golf game for an upcoming charity tournament. When he saw all the fuss surrounding the press conference he decided to come over and check it out.

  “I’ve been meaning to give you a call,” the man said. He stood at a towering six foot eight and even though he had to be just this side of fifty he looked as fit as ever.

  I thought he meant he was planning on making a visit to the club. “It goes without saying we’d love to see you at Aqua Room,” I said. “The staff would fall all over themselves flinging open the door for you.”

  He shook his head with a chuckle. “Thanks man, but I’m not a club guy. To me a perfect night out means sitting on my back patio with nothing but a beer in one hand and Mrs. Fulton in the other while we watch the sun set over the mountains.

  “Can’t fault you for that,” I said, envying the image. Not that I coveted Mrs. Fulton but spending a quiet evening watching the sun set with a girl beside me – Cami, if I had my choice - would be about the closest thing to heaven that I could think of.

  Other than fucking under the stars. That was still number one.

  “I actually had another reason to seek you out,” Harold said. “The word is you’re trying to get a baseball training facility for kids up and running.”

  I raised my eyebrows, surprised that my little endeavor had reached the ears of Harold Fulton. “That’s right. I’ve been working on it since last fall and we have our first program underway. It’s the goal to give these talented kids pro level coaching at bargain pricing with a large number of need-based and merit-based scholarships offered, depending on our sponsorship commitments. We have a temporary location right now just a few miles down the road but I’ve been trying to find a suitable permanent property with both indoor and outdoor amenities. We already have a diverse collection of enthusiastic coaching and administrative staff who have been happy to work for peanuts because they believe in what we’re doing.”

  As I talked I was aware that I probably sounded as giddy as a kid rattling off Christmas lists but Harold Fulton listened carefully to every word. He asked a few pointed questions that I was happy to answer and then told me he’d love to have a longer conversation when time permitted.

  “I’ll have my assistant give you a call to set something up if that’s okay,” he said.

  It was okay. It was so okay I almost lost my shit and hugged the future Hall of Famer. He hadn’t promised me anything but the fact that Harold Fulton had taken an interest meant the world. Who the hell wouldn’t be ecstatic to have their youth sports program endorsed by a national treasure? In my head I was picturing a vast field with room for a thousand kids to have the chance to do what they loved.

  Cami was the first person who came to mind when I wondered who I
could talk to about this new development. In the short time since I’d met her I felt like I was starting to move a little bit closer to the man I was meant to be. This club manager thing had been a cushy landing spot when my ball playing career went belly up but I’d always understood that the fast lane was never going to be a permanent home.

  Without even thinking I texted her just to say that I couldn’t wait to see her for lunch.

  Cami texted back immediately to say that she was counting down the minutes.

  Sure, we were being kind of sappy and if I was looking over someone else’s shoulder reading these texts I might have gagged a little at the corniness of it all. But since I had the privilege of living it I wasn’t going to throw shade.

  An hour later I was standing outside Blue Rain Day Spa and watching the door because I knew Cami would be opening it any moment to join me for lunch. I wanted to spend as much time as possible with her but so far between the demands of the club and the fact that she was reluctant to disrespect her folks by spending the night in my bed, it wasn’t nearly enough.

  Why isn’t it enough?

  When I was engaged to Alexa we would often go months apart while I was on the road and somehow I was sure I’d never missed her half as much as I missed Cami every time she left my arms. It didn’t make any sense but then again when in the hell had the human heart ever made a damn bit of sense? We hadn’t been so bold as to put a name to what we had but we both knew it wasn’t something that came along regularly. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to that whole myth of instant love after all.

  Cami stepped outside and my heart skipped at the same time my dick hardened.

  “Hey you,” she said, her face flushed with pleasure to find me out here waiting for her.

  “Come here,” I said, immediately seizing her in my arms. She smiled and eagerly tipped her head up to meet my lips.

  I kissed her for a long time without caring who was watching. I could happily kiss this girl forever.