Having a Ball!

by Misty Simon

  All right, enough stalling. I wasn’t going to light a candle or anything, to be more conducive to the questions I was about to ask. Arrol had mentioned something about atmosphere, but he’d been bouncing on my bed and had his mouth so stuffed with pizza I couldn’t make out what exactly he was babbling on about at the time.

  Besides, if I remembered correctly, nothing was needed except a good question and even better thoughts.

  I could do this.

  Turning the ball over in my hand, I cleared it, turned it back over to rest the answer window on my palm, then closed my eyes and concentrated.

  The smell of disinfectant and wet paper towels distracted me for a second. I wandered off mentally to ponder why all bathrooms seemed to smell the same around here, like people smoked in there and they used vanilla scent to cover it up. But this was a bar in Pennsylvania, after all. I don’t even know why I wondered.

  And I was totally getting off track. Back to the question. “Is Toby lying to me?”

  I held the ball for a second longer and then turned it over to see the answer. It read: HELLO DANNER!

  “Now, what the hell is this crap again?” I said to the small bathroom mirror. And more pressing, why was it using exclamation points on me?

  I thought I had come to the firm conclusion that the ball had not talked to me and that I was not one short step from crazy. This wasn’t possible. But then again, I’d thought Arrol wasn’t possible, either, and look how that turned out.

  But by now I was beyond caring about what wasn’t and what was possible anymore. If this thing was going to talk to me, I was going to figure out what it had to say and mine its secrets.

  I set the ball on my lap and rubbed my hands together. Picking it back up, I tried to clear my mind and concentrate. “All right, little bally ball, talk to Danner. Hello back at you. What have you got for me to learn today?”

  WELCOME TO MY WORLD.

  “I think it’s welcome to my world, not yours. Do I need to ask you specific questions or do you just have something to say to me? And while we’re at it, why me?” I leaned back against the tiled wall and waited to see if the cube inside rolled to another bizarre phrase. But nothing happened. Well, that was disappointing. Now that I’d decided to play along, it was deciding to be coy.

  Then it hit me. Duh. I hadn’t turned it back over. I almost smacked myself in the head, but since my hands were full, I made do with turning the blasted thing over and then back again. It occurred to me that I probably should have asked the question again.

  But the cube rolled and came up with: ONE AT A TIME PLEASE.

  Hmmm. First things first, I thought. “Do I need to ask specific yes or no questions?” Tilt forward, tilt back and the cube rolled.

  NO.

  “Well, that’s very freeing.” And completely contrary to everything I remembered from when I had a normal eight ball when I was younger. This could be very interesting and a lot of fun if I could ask it anything I wanted. Please let it be interesting and not creepy. What if it decided to be rude, like Arrol?

  “Why me?” Someone banged on the bathroom door, interrupting me. “Someone’s in here,” I called in my most innocent voice.

  The cube rolled: YES.

  “Yes? What do you mean ‘yes’?” Nothing. Crap, I forgot to turn it over again. Had to get a grip on this whole routine.

  YES, DANNER, THERE IS SOMEONE IN THE POTTY.

  Ha, HA. Maybe the ball was a mother? Who else said potty? But I didn’t ask. What if there were only so many questions I could ask?

  “Very funny, ball.” I turned the ball over. “Is Toby lying?”

  MOST DECIDEDLY NOT.

  But how could that be? He said he hadn’t gone out. I knew I had seen him at the Art Depot building. He freaking kissed me, as disgusting as it was. I couldn’t have imagined all of that. Could I?

  “Am I going crazy?”

  LOL NO.

  An Internet lingo savvy ball. Hmmm.

  Another knock on the door.

  “Someone is in here.” I tried to sound like I really was going to the bathroom instead of messing around asking questions to a ball.

  “Are you almost out? I really have to go.” The person on the other side of the door was going for plaintive and whiny—although giggling followed—and apparently drunk.

  All right, I had to go. Maybe I’d take up with the asking again later. At least I knew Toby wasn’t lying, even if I didn’t know how exactly he hadn’t been outside the store with me at my car. Maybe he had a twin? Maybe I needed brain surgery for trusting a ball that told me the exact opposite of what I knew to be true.

  Argh!

  What I did know, though, was that I had to go back out to the table. I’d been gone an awfully long time, and I didn’t want Toby to think I didn’t want to be with him when I clearly came at his request, even if he was giving off bad vibes to crush mine.

  Crap! One more quick one.

  “Does Toby want me?”

  YES.

  ****

  “So nice of you to come back to the table. Did you fall in?” He was deliberately being rude, and he knew it. I wanted to smack him in his head, the stupid, obstinate man. But he was yummy to look at.

  And if he hadn’t been the one doing the kissing earlier today, then that meant my fantasy world was still firmly intact. Yes, I was reaching. But, dammit, this was my fantasy world we were talking about here. It must be preserved at all costs.

  I narrowed my eyes at him and watched while he fought the smirk rising to his lips. If he even dared…

  “I did not fall in, thank you very much, and thanks, too, for saying such a rude, horrible thing, you big, snarky oaf.”

  Well, that certainly put him in his place. He snickered and came this close to getting a cocktail weenie in his eye.

  I knew he wasn’t lying, but seeing him again made me wonder what the hell I had experienced, then. And who had I experienced it with? “Are you sure you weren’t at the art store today?” I had to ask one more time, just to be sure. The ball could be wrong. I didn’t know how exactly it worked, just yet.

  “I already told you.” His eyes narrowed, too, and we were both looking at each other out of slits. It was the closest we had ever really come to a fight. “I was not there today. I was taking a nap. Do you think I did something to you today to make you so suspicious?” He smirked again. “Did I try to kiss you during one of your naps in the car?”

  I gasped. How did he know I took naps in my car? Why would he say that if it hadn’t happened? My brain hurt. And why did he have to look so damned rude about the whole thing? “Um, no. No, of course not,” I squeaked. Lying was not one of my best skills. “It’s just the second time I thought I saw you in two days and both times you say it wasn’t you. I guess I don’t know what to think. I want to believe you, but I’m having a hard time disbelieving my own eyes.” I sighed. “I don’t want you to lie to me, Toby. I want to be able to trust you. I thought we were friends.” And it would be nice to know if the ball lied.

  Toby’s face blanked out. He stood up so fast his chair rocked behind him. “Dinner’s on me.” He threw some bills onto the table. “I just wanted a fun night out with the friend I missed over the last week. Let me know when you return to normal, and we’ll talk.”

  ****

  Ten minutes later, I was still sitting at the bar table, dumfounded. What the hell had happened? The ball had said Toby wanted me, but I’d come back to the table and been blasted like I’d asked him to take a short side trip to Hell.

  It was galling, to say the least, and certainly not at all what I’d expected. I’d even primped before coming back to the table. The ball had lied to me, and I would have some very stern words with it as soon as I got back to my apartment. Toby would almost have to be home now, so I wouldn’t run the risk of bumping into him. Tonight, at least. Good thing the walls were thin. I’d know if and when he left and when I could leave. Why, oh, why hadn’t he stayed away for another two weeks?
r />   I flipped open my cell and checked in with Caro and Phoebe. Caro picked up on the first ring.

  “Hey, baby! Come join us for some fun.” The sound of laughter and clinking glasses almost drowned out her slightly slurred words.

  I tucked the phone closer to my ear. “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. We’re having the time of our lives, but I called Jordan to let him know we were ready to move on in about twenty minutes.”

  I didn’t even take the time to find out who Jordan was. It would take too long and was completely irrelevant to the conversation.

  “Hey, Danner!” Phoebe must have grabbed the phone. “I’m having a great time out with Caro. Thanks for suggesting it. I don’t feel nearly so upset about Jared, with all these cute boys around.” She giggled, and I prayed she’d stay out of trouble, though that was doubtful with Caro around.

  “Hi, Phoebs. Listen, can you put Caro back on the phone for me?”

  “Sure, sure. Just wanted to let you know we were missing you and wished you’d come out and play instead staying in that stuffy house with your stuffy accounts.” She hiccupped.

  Then Caro came back on. “What?”

  “Look, I’m fine with you showing her a good time, but please don’t let her do anything crazy. She is still married.”

  “Oh, I know that, schnookums. We’re just having a little fun, but I made sure to tell all the lovelies that this is a no-touch zone.”

  I blew out a relieved breath. One less thing to worry about. Now if I only knew who Jordan was and whether I could trust him to get everyone home in one piece. And since when was I the little mother? “Well, take care of yourselves, and call me when you leave to go home. I just want to make sure you get there okay.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll call you on our way out the door. No worries.”

  I heard her laugh and snort something about me and my overprotectiveness as she hung up. Nice. I jammed my phone back in my bag and pulled my coat closer around me. It was starting to get a little colder out here, and I had only a light jacket.

  Trudging home in the towering darkness, I rested my hand on the ball in my backpack and silently threatened retribution. The ball could probably hear my frustration, and I was glad. Let it stew over the way I was going to take it apart when I got home. Not literally, of course. But I had some very pointed questions I planned on asking it. One was how many questions I could ask, and the other was if I should take everything it said as a bald-faced lie. I might have been desperate sometimes, but I wasn’t completely stupid.

  But fifteen minutes later, when I got home, all the lights were blazing in both the upstairs and downstairs. Competing music was blaring through opened windows, and Mrs. Fink’s light next door flipped on as I stood horror struck.

  I hustled up my stairs, trying to get to the top and shut everything down before the police were called. But when I got up there, Toby was standing on my stoop, banging away on the door. What the hell did he think he was doing up here? His stuff was just as loud as what came out of my part of the house. And at least Arrol had the taste to play some Skid Row instead of that Kenny G crap Toby had blaring.

  Ten steps from the top, I stopped. How was I going to explain to Toby why I was outside my own house when it was lit up like Christmas?

  Chapter Nine

  In the end, I just bluffed my way through the situation. “Toby, hi, what’s up?” I yelled to be heard over the loudness.

  I approached the top step and felt at a distinct disadvantage with him towering over me. Why did he have to be so tall and wonderful? So easy on the eyes? If he had been an ugly troll, I bet I wouldn’t have had any problem resisting his pull, no matter what he said or did.

  “What? How did you get down there?” His hair stuck straight up, farther than usual. I thought it was safe to assume he had been standing here for a little while trying to get me to answer the door.

  “I, uh, went out for a minute and just came back. What’s up?” Yes, I was repeating myself. But I had a naughty gnome, who was supposed to have stayed in my room on the other side of the door, and no explanation for how twenty-five minutes ago I was sitting at the bar with this man and now my house was at full blast.

  “But…”

  I ran rough-shod right over him. “I should get back inside and turn the music down.” The music inside had reached a crescendo. I wanted in so I could turn it down. Mrs. Fink might be old and hard of hearing sometimes, but the street was quiet other than our ruckus, and I didn’t need the police out here. Her glaring living room lights hadn’t darkened yet. It was only a matter of time before revolving red and blue lights joined the party.

  I scooted around him with a small fake smile and inserted my key in the door. He noticed, because his eyebrow went winging up. I could practically see the question hovering on his lips. Why would I have left all the lights on, the music blaring, and yet taken the time to lock the door?

  “See you later,” I said as I ducked through the small wedge of space I’d made at the door. I had no idea what the inside of the apartment looked like, so I wasn’t taking chances.

  He opened his mouth and looked about to say something, but I closed the door in his face, flipped the lock, and ran for the stereo.

  I tripped over some boxes and a few bottles littering the floor in my pursuit of the stereo. Another Skid Row song blasted out of the speakers. Arrol must have cranked the volume up to a hundred. Christ!

  I put my finger on the volume button and depressed it quickly, nearly stuttering with trying to get it back down to an acceptable level. I loved Skid Row, but not at this decibel.

  Once I could hear again, I went back over to the closed door and listened for Toby. Instead, I heard his jazz music go down to a non-ear-shattering level and had to figure he was down in his own apartment, unless he had brought his stereo remote with him and was controlling it from outside my door. Then again, I didn’t think it reached from all the way up here. I was making myself crazy here. Argh!

  So it was safe to finally find Mr. Rudeness himself and tell him this was unacceptable behavior. And there he was, sitting at my breakfast bar, munching away on my secret stash of Oreos. (Don’t ask why they’re a secret stash when I live alone.) His smile was covered in dark Oreo crumbs, and his grubby little hands shoved another in his mouth.

  “Having fun?”

  “Oh.” His little body jumped some, which pleased me immensely.

  I brought out Corporate Danner. “It is completely unacceptable for you to behave this way within my domicile. I specifically told you to stay in my room. My cousin is here and doesn’t know about you, you buffoon.”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” he said, putting his little fists on his hips. I noticed his stubby legs didn’t even make it to the end of the captain’s chair. For some reason that, and the soles of his curly-toed shoes, made me want to giggle. And I so rarely giggled.

  “Don’t blah me. Do you want the whole world to know you’re here?” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the counter.

  “Yo, mama, this is the dealy-o. I don’t give a rat’s ass who knows I’m in the hiz-ouse.”

  Oh. My. God. I had a rapper gnome firmly ensconced in my house—or was that hiz-ouse? “No, that’s not going to work for me. If you’re going to be rude, then the least you can do is go back to that formal speech instead of trying to channel Coolio.”

  He glared at me with just his eyes. “I have been watching your MTV all day, and this is the new language of the world.”

  “No, it’s not. And even if it were, it’s not the new language of this house.” I was not going to be saddled with someone who was not only rude but also grated on my nerves with his choice of words. “You should watch Oprah or something. How about the Food Network?”

  “Not important. What is important, however, is the new clothes I requested. Have you gotten me new trousers? A new shirt?”

  “You’re not exactly going to fit into my Ken doll clothes.”

  �
��Who is this Ken?”

  Yeah, I wasn’t going there. I won’t even mention that I actually still had my Ken dolls in one of the many closets in the house.

  “Ken is none of your concern.” I cleared my throat. “Look, I’ll try to figure something out with the clothes. Did you want jeans or something like that?” How I thought I’d get jeans that would fit his three-inch rounded legs was beyond me.

  “All I require is something that will go with my tool belt. Chicks dig the tool belt, you know. I watched a man named Ty this evening on a Trading Spaces program, and the girls thought he was masculine.”

  Oh, I loved Ty. I could fantasize for days about that tool belt. And in fact did when Toby was wearing one. Thoughts of Toby brought me abruptly back to reality. “Fine. I’ll look into the clothes issue, but you cannot have the lights blaring and the stereo blasting like you did earlier. How am I going to explain that kind of disturbance when I’m not home? And what if Phoebe had walked in?”

  “It’s not up to me to figure out how to explain disturbances. Plus, Phoebe would want to meet me if you wouldn’t keep trying to hide me. I bet she’d give me the respect I’m due. She’d think I was very cool and awesome and wiggety-wiggety-whack.”

  Kill me now. “Phoebe would have a freak attack if she saw you.” I could just see it now, and even the imaginary confrontation scared me. “She’s not very, um, comfortable with the supernatural.” To say the least. Which was particularly interesting when my cousin Mel had a junkyard full of ghosts and I now had a talking gnome. “And you’re being awfully snotty for someone who is here as my guest.”

  “Guest. Ha! I’ve lived here longer than you, human. This was my house longer than it will ever be yours. I have witnessed scores of lives lived here.”

  “Are we having a longevity pissing contest?” Now I stood with my hands on my hips.

  He stood up on the chair and crossed his arms over his cute, round belly.

  I tried so hard to stifle the giggle burbling in my chest. Tried so hard and failed so miserably. It wasn’t just a snicker, or a giggle. It couldn’t even be merely called a laugh. It was a full-blown guffaw of the first water, a huge load of sound that kept rolling and rolling out of me.