Having a Ball!

by Misty Simon

  I flinched at the last one.

  He didn’t appear to notice as he continued. “So they’re more of a game of chance than any real indication of what to do.”

  “Okay, but I know all this.”

  The eyebrows drew down. Apparently I wasn’t supposed to talk during his recitation. I clamped my lips shut.

  “But back in the early 1800s there were four balls made to actually be able to help with divination, imbued with magic.”

  I admit I was a little skeptical. Magic? But what other explanation did I have for the way the ball had known my name? I opened my mouth, and he gave me a cut-off motion with his hand. I closed my mouth again.

  “Of the four balls, I only know of one that still existed as of a hundred years ago.” He seemed to go introspective as he looked at the ball sitting in my lap. He paced over the cushions. As he got closer to the ball, I couldn’t keep my hands from covering it.

  “It does have a way of making the owner extremely possessive.” He cocked an eyebrow at me.

  Man, what would it be like to have such expressive eyebrows? Not that I would want mine to be as bushy, but his command was masterful.

  And I was getting completely off topic. “So, possessive. But this can’t be one of the balls from nearly two hundred years ago. I mean, I got it for a buck and change.”

  “Maybe the person didn’t know what they had.” He resumed circling the ball, even though he couldn’t have been able to see much, with my hand on it.

  “But…”

  “No buts, human. If I am correct, then the ball is perfectly capable of hiding its nature if it does not want someone to know what it is capable of. Perhaps something inside you clicked it on.”

  Now, that was a nice little thought. Something inside me was special enough to make a two-hundred-year-old ball talk to me. Me, specifically. Nice.

  “So what do I do to get the ball to start talking to me again? I’ve been trying all day and can’t get it to do anything other than say ‘ask again later.’ ”

  “And therein lies your problem.”

  “Why?”

  “During the day, the ball will only act as a normal, average ball. The night is when it will come alive for you.”

  “Like you?”

  “Yes, like me. How very astute of you.”

  I preened a little. “But how do you know so much about the ball? I mean, if you’ve been locked up for years, how can you know all this info without consulting anything or talking with anyone?”

  “My previous owner, the one who gave me this lovely permanent smile, owned this very ball before I was locked in the wall.”

  Oh, my. But I didn’t get a chance to say much more, because the little gnome headed for the French doors, clearly expecting me to follow.

  “I love the feel of the moon.”

  By the time I made it outside, I found Arrol walking along the ledge of my balcony railing with his rounded arms stuck out to the sides.

  I was pretty sure that was one of the few positive things I had ever heard him say.

  Phoebe still hadn’t called. She and my mom were probably having an after-dinner sherry right now, boring my poor, poor cousin with the many details of their lives. Details they rarely shared with me.

  Better her than me. At least that’s what I was telling myself.

  “Be careful up there,” I said, turning my focus from the dinner I was so rudely not invited to and back to the gnome on my deck. “I don’t want you to fall to the ground below. I don’t think Toby’s had time to plant any flowers or anything, so no cushion, unless you want to take your chances on some leaves that didn’t get raked up.”

  “Ah, human, I am very sturdy. I will not fall to the leaves below.” He turned his face up to the sky and seemed to drink in the essence of the moon through his pores. If gnomes had pores. Yeah, question for another day.

  “What’s with the perma-smile, Arrol?” I figured maybe I could take advantage of his good mood and get some answers from him.

  Apparently he was still in a good mood. He didn’t even snarl at me. “I was cursed. I was eternally rude, according to my master, and so cursed to always smile, no matter what I said.”

  Wow, that guy must have been seven kinds of bad-ass to inflict that on someone. It was an eerie imitation of the Joker, from Batman, when he was really not happy. “Is there any way to reverse the curse?”

  His gaze dropped to the ground.

  I desperately hoped he wasn’t about to take off my head.

  “There…” He cleared his throat. “There is a w-way, but it is not something I can d-d-discuss.” He seemed to be struggling with nearly every word.

  I decided to back off. Maybe it just made him uncomfortable. Maybe it would make him cry. I had no idea, and I wasn’t taking the chance of ruining what so far had been a very nice evening. Arrol crying would be way too much for me to handle at this point.

  I went for the abrupt, and completely unsubtle, subject change that was my forte. “So do you really think the ball will work now?” I turned it in my hand, watching the silver sheen on the surface.

  “I have already shown you it will work. And I am still frankly surprised that you had not already put together that the ball only works in the night.”

  “That will suck in the summer.”

  “Be thankful you do not live farther north.”

  Yeah, there was that. “So I can ask it anything I want?”

  “You could have asked an hour ago if you had not been so afraid.”

  “How did you… Oh, right, the whole agitation thing with the mind reading.” I looked over the railing and set the ball next to my curled hand. So now I could ask it anything, and I was nearly terrified it wouldn’t respond to me no matter that it was supposed to. What if I had lost my ball mojo?

  And maybe that had come out wrong.

  “Yes, the whole mind-reading thing.” He hummed a little tune I couldn’t place.

  “What is that song?”

  “Stop trying to distract yourself, and ask a question. If you are too unsure of the ball, find that white space again and ask an easy one.” He plopped down next to my one potted plant and stroked a leathery leaf. “You really need to learn how to take care of this poor specimen.”

  “Now who’s trying to distract?” I put my hand back on the ball and felt it warm under my flesh. That was better than last time.

  “Clear your mind.”

  “But I didn’t before. Before, it just talked to me.” I shot him a look and waited, with the ball steadily becoming warmer.

  “And did you have any control, or any idea what you were doing, before?”

  He had me there.

  A light breeze caressed my cheek and lifted my new hairdo. There was a nip in that air, so I pulled my jacket closer around me.

  What was I going to ask? What should my first question be?

  “Try something easy, like does your boyfriend like you.”

  “I know you haven’t been around me long, but have you noticed any boyfriends hanging around here?” I put both hands on the ball and tried to blank out my mind except for the fluffy sheep and the clouds.

  “Well, that is true.” He paused and tapped a finger to his chin. “Ask about your art, then.”

  “How do you know about my art?”

  He shrugged. “You’re passionate there, too.”

  Yikes, I’d have to find a subtle way to ask if he could read my mind if I was, um, sexually passionate. Not that I was too worried about that. Witness the rich fantasy life, with no physical contact. I had completely blocked that yucky kiss from my mind, so it didn’t count. That absolutely could not have been the Toby I had lusted after for these many months. Life just wasn’t that unfair. It couldn’t be.

  But it sure would be nice to know for certain, before it became important. Just in case, you understand. Wouldn’t want to be in the throes of some hot monkey love and have Arrol start giving pointers about not worrying on the lack of leg-shaving.

/>   “Okay, I’m just going to go for it.” I focused my thoughts and tried to come up with one of the questions I’d asked earlier, when I got the “ask again later” thing. “Are you talking to me yet?”

  ABSOLUTELY, DANNER.

  “Whew. That makes me feel so much better.”

  “I’m glad you want me to talk to you, again, Danner. I feared for our friendship and your rent check.”

  Shit.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I whipped around to face Toby and wondered how on earth I was going to explain Arrol and talking to a ball out on my balcony. My mind frantically raced trying to come up with something—anything—that might make any little, teensy, tiny bit of sense. I’m sorry to say I came up completely blank, just like that little fluffy white sheep scene. Poop.

  “Toby! Hi!” I said, falling back on exclamation points when my brain failed.

  “Danner.” He took a step back. It was probably my very own perma-smile that looked as fake as a three-dollar bill. “I was happy to hear you are ready to be friends again. I’ve missed you.”

  And didn’t that just make my little heart go pitty-pat? “Really?”

  “Really.” He flicked some hair on the back of his head and gave me a half smile.

  I wanted to lick him. But first I had to check to see if he was a different color. I stepped in closer and playfully checked his forehead for a fever. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

  That half-smile kicked up into a full-fledged one that nearly set my panties on fire. This was the man I gave a starring role to in every one of my vivid fantasies.

  “I’m feeling fine, now that we’re back on speaking terms.” He leaned against the railing, relaxed and handsome as sin.

  I leaned, too, trying to feel the nonchalance I was grasping so hard for. “So what are you up to tonight?”

  “Just thought I’d stop in and see what was happening with you.” He folded his arms over his chest and pulled the fabric of his Henley tight over his lust-inducing chest and around his drool-worthy biceps. Yum.

  “I’m, ah, good. Life is fine except for some very strange things happening lately.” I took the ball off the balcony and hooked arms with Toby. I led him down the outside stairs to the ground floor where he lived and prepared to raid his kitchen. My stomach was grumbling something fierce. I’d only ended up with one quarter of the pizza, after all.

  He took the lead when we got to his front door. He opened it with a flourish and led me into the very manly interior, so different from my own house. Dark woods and big antique furniture dominated the room. He had a good eye for beautiful pieces that were still comfortable, unlike so many other people who collected. I’d sat on some horribly uncomfortable Victorian-era couches. Toby’s were the exception.

  “Hey, looks like you finally got your kitchen done.” I admired the glass-front cabinets and the new breakfast bar with high stools. He was going to mirror my kitchen after his, he’d said, and I was excited at the prospect of seeing these changes happen in my own house.

  “Yeah, I’ve been working pretty steadily to get it all done. I finished with my two other properties yesterday and thought I’d finish up here, too.” He grabbed two beers out of the fridge, cracked them open, and handed me one.

  The light inside the refrigerator had illuminated all kinds of yummy stuff that I would love to get my teeth into. Food, gutter brain. Although… Ahem.

  Normally I was comfortable enough to just tell him what I wanted him to cook for me. But since we’d just gotten back to being friends, I was a little reluctant to start demanding his culinary services.

  “So what’ll it be?” he asked, eyeing me over the lip of his beer.

  He knew me too well. “I wouldn’t be averse to another one of your wonderful omelets.”

  ****

  I trudged back up the stairs with my belly full and my fantasy life back intact. I heard fast footsteps following me up and turned around. Toby couldn’t need to talk to me again already, could he?

  But it was Phoebe. She started jabbering away as soon as I drew in a breath to berate her for not calling.

  “Oh, Danner. I had the best time. Your mom is so much better than mine. And once your dad came home, it was wonderful. You’re so lucky to have them. My parents would have thrown some macaroni and cheese on a TV tray and gone out to have a beer.”

  Yeah, lucky, that was me. I didn’t even get invited to my parents’ house, much less macaroni and cheese. But I didn’t say any of those things. I figured they’d hit it off well, and if I said anything, it would probably go right back to them, courtesy of Phoebe the wunderkind.

  “I just love their house, too. All that great art hanging on the wall.” She sighed and threw her purse on my breakfast bar.

  I moved the purse over to the baker’s rack and followed her into the living room.

  “Why don’t you do any kind of art?”

  I hated that question. “I’m more into taxes and forms than the artsy-fartsy thing.” I expected my nose to grow like a redwood at any moment.

  “I think it would be so cool to have a talent like that. Didn’t you get any?” She tucked herself into the corner of my couch, and I took the wing chair to the left. Not that my couch couldn’t fit both of us, but I liked some personal space. I grabbed a throw and a pillow and propped myself into comfort.

  “I may have,” I lied. “But I prefer the things I can control.” That wasn’t much of a lie.

  “You should try it some time.”

  I needed to change the subject. “So what are your plans for the next few days? When are you going back to Jared?” Not to be subtle or anything.

  “I can never go back to Jared,” she wailed. “He wants nothing to do with me.” She sniffed. “He told me to never darken his doorway again.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t really mean that. You two have only been married for two years.” Dare I wade into the fray? I didn’t really want to, so I waited for her to say something else. I was at a loss for a great subject change and too full to try harder.

  “He was my one and only love.”

  Subject change in mind. I couldn’t stand to go through all that right now. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time. I just had omelets downstairs with Toby.”

  “Oh! Is he cute?” She’d perked right up at that, hadn’t she?

  “Um, sure.” She was so not going to start fantasizing about my man! Another subject. Again! “So, anyway, how was your night with Caro? We didn’t really get a chance to talk the other night.” Even if I had to suffer through this it was better than the alternative at this point.

  “Oh, we had an okay time.” Her shoulders drooped and her eyes widened. Alert. Alert! Crying jag ahead.

  “That’s good?” I put the question mark at the end because I wasn’t entirely sure that was the right answer.

  “No, it’s not good. I cried most of the time, until Caro just started pouring drinks down my throat. I missed Jared so much I couldn’t have any fun at all. You know what I mean?”

  The appropriate answer here would be no, I don’t know what you mean. Since I didn’t. But would that bring on a whole new discussion I didn’t want to have. Argh!

  I must have waited too long with an answer because she plowed right on.

  “Your mom told me you’ve never really had a normal relationship, so I guess you don’t know what I’m talking about. But I left my whole world behind when I walked out on Jared.” She hugged the pillow closer to her. It looked like the stuffing was about to blow.

  A part of me was completely fascinated by this conversation. The same part that couldn’t help gawking at accidents.

  “I thought Jared kicked you out.”

  I got a glare for my observation.

  “Whatever. I just think my whole heart broke that day and shattered into teeny, tiny pieces, never to be glued back together. How am I supposed to live without a complete heart, Danner? How?”

  Oh, brother.

  “He was my world, but
when I left he didn’t say anything to me at all. He just kept watching the TV and grunting as if nothing at all was wrong.” She threw her head back against the couch and even managed to rest her limp wrist against her forehead. Oh the drama. Oh the agony.

  For me.

  “If he was your world, though, why didn’t you try to stay and work things out? Why did you leave? It’s your house too.” And maybe she would stop with the fainting Victorian lady thing and get back to her house where she could make up with hubby and be out of my hair. I knew how rude that sounded, but I really did want to know.

  “Oh, Danner, you’ll never understand. Never! I loved him so much I had to go so he would find out how much he needs me. It was the only way. Don’t you see?”

  I was officially on the set of a soap opera. And no, I didn’t see. I also couldn’t see myself playing those kinds of endless games. Who needed the drama? Well, besides Phoebe, apparently.

  And yet again my case was made for me in regard to the rich fantasy life. No arguing. The man wants me as much and as often as I close my eyes, and no one has to leave the house to be appreciated. Seemed pretty straightforward to me.

  “Why don’t you go home and try to work things out? He must be missing you by now.” Or he was so relieved not to have to live with the drama anymore that I would have Phoebe forever.

  “You just don’t understand!” she wailed for what felt like the four-thousandth time. Then she trounced off to her room.

  Well, you can’t say I hadn’t tried.

  ****

  Still stuffed and feeling some things were right in my world even if I hadn’t been invited to my parents’ for dinner, I went to bed. And slept the whole night long. When I woke up in the morning, I felt more rested than I had in days.

  The phone rang at eight, just as I was getting out of the shower. I had an appointment with Maynard Black in thirty minutes to go over his tax information for his auto body shop. I took my car there because he was the best. He said he brought his financials to me for the same reason. Wasn’t that nice of him?

  I picked up the phone before it rang a third time and got blasted.

  “You never called me back last night,” Caro said.