Having a Ball!

by Misty Simon

  And here it was. “If I remember correctly, it wasn’t that cold out last night.” I don’t even know why I tried to stop the inevitable.

  “Not that cold! It is ridiculous for you to even say that to me. You have a responsibility that you completely and utterly ignored for your own comfort and enjoyment with that cretin downstairs. The least you could have done was leave the door open for me.”

  I didn’t want to look at him because I was afraid he had his little arms crossed at his belly and his curly booted foot tapping. What if I reacted as horribly as I did last time? I didn’t think he would respond very well to being laughed at again.

  “Just one door! And look at me when I’m talking to you!”

  I still didn’t turn around. What had happened to the apologies I’d practiced this afternoon while waiting for this very moment? Well, I couldn’t pull any of them out. And it occurred to me that he had some responsibility to take here too. “You could have climbed over the balcony and waited at the front door for me.” I stared out into the back yard to keep my composure.

  “I said look at me.” His voice had dropped to a dangerous level.

  So I looked at him and did indeed struggle not to giggle. “What?”

  “Have you seen these legs?” He shook one pudgy leg out in front of him like he was doing the hokey-pokey. “They’re stumpy and small. I look like one of those top-heavy people who can barely stand up—a pear with matchstick legs. How was I supposed to climb anywhere?” His eyes softened a little.

  I found my apology. “I am sorry, Arrol. I’m not used to having someone else in the house yet, and it was very bad of me to leave you out there all night. I only remembered to let Phoebe in because she almost knocked me down.” He hadn’t mentioned anything about bird poop yet, and I certainly wasn’t going to bring it up. “I did forget about you. And you’re right. I do have a responsibility to you. I should have come back for you and brought you in.”

  His face softened a little more, though the smile didn’t dim at all. I could tell he wasn’t as mad as I thought he would be. But when his voice came out, it was gruff. “Don’t forget again, woman. I did not like being out there all night long. The squirrels would not leave me alone at all. They wanted me to find their food source from last year. Silly, chittering things, those squirrels.”

  I smiled at him, a real, warm, smile that I felt all the way inside. He’d called me “woman” instead of “human.” I knew that wasn’t huge progress, but it was something, at least. I felt much friendlier toward him now that I was woman. Hear me purr.

  I put him up on top of my blue comforter. Careful not to bounce him, I sat down next to him.

  “I missed my evening of television viewing last night.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “I hope you have something to do tonight that will not involve being here. I would like to catch up on Trading Spaces and a few other shows. Without interference,” he said pointedly, grabbing a piece of my peace-offering pizza and chomping.

  “Ah, yes, I um, understand. But I’m going to need you to stay in my room tonight.” Before he could protest, I held up my hand. “Phoebe’s going to go out with my mom, so you can watch whatever you want, but I need you to stay in here.” I even threw in the word “please.”

  I started backing out of the room. “I do have plans for this evening, actually, that will keep me out of your cap for a few hours. Why don’t I just go get ready?”

  “That would be good. Make sure to leave more pizza and the beer before you go.” He grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV.

  Ty from Trading Spaces came on the screen, making my heart beat a little faster. Thoughts of Toby flooded my mind, and the significance of the calendar date.

  “Please go.”

  “You promise not to leave the room?”

  “Jeez.” He threw the remote down next to him. “I promise, already. I promise, I promise.” He waved me away and picked the control back up.

  “I just don’t want you to freak out Phoebe.”

  “I know! Go already. I’m sure Toby can’t wait to see you tonight. I hope you’re changing first, though.” His smile twitched. “Oh, and leave the ball,” he said, not taking his eyes from the screen. “I’ll need it to verify a few things.”

  “But what if I need it tonight?”

  “You’ll survive.” He stared at me from beneath hooded eyelids. “I believe it won’t be a problem. And you can also start thinking about where you are going to find the fairies you now owe me for my companions.”

  Had I really thought I was going to get away with leaving him outside without some kind of payment? And what was with the plural?

  ****

  I ducked in through the back door of The Total Dive and chose my favorite spot at one of the corner tables. I was sure I wouldn’t be spotted here. On these nights the lights were down low, and only a spotlight lit the front of the bar with its small stage.

  Amy Vetter came over to take my drink order. “How’s it going tonight, Danner?” She put a cocktail napkin down on my table.

  “Amy,” I whispered. “Keep your voice down, for God’s sake. I don’t want him to know I’m here.”

  She leaned an elbow on the table. “Why do you do this? Do you really think he’d mind that you come to watch him?”

  “You make me sound like some kind of stalker.”

  She raised her eyebrow at me. I was getting a little tired of uplifted brows.

  “I am not a stalker. I merely enjoy jazz music.”

  “From a dark corner where you won’t even let me say your name?”

  “I’ll have a Shirley Temple,” I said into the silence after I didn’t answer her question.

  “Jeez, so you’re not even drinking anymore? Should I be concerned? Feeling your forehead?”

  “Nah.” I feigned nonchalance when I shrugged. “Just a little change of pace for me. I’ll take some buffalo wings, too.”

  She tapped my table with her order pad. “They’ll be right up.”

  “Thanks.” I leaned back in my chair and settled in for a long night of increasing my ability to fantasize. I would get my fantasy life back. One horrible kiss was not going to ruin me forever.

  Before I could think anymore, the lights went out completely, and the spotlight came up to focus on the stage. A golden sax leaned against a stand next to a stool. And next to that was glory. A big beautiful upright piano dating from 1902. It had been lovingly polished and gleamed in the low lights. A fat stubby candle sat on the top, flickering in the light draft from the heaters. I’d felt those black and white keys, sniffed them, too, if you must know.

  Toby played here at least one night a week, and watching him tickle those ivories made my inside quiver. I never missed a performance if I could help it. I’d sit in my little corner completely hidden from view but able to pull the music into me like breath and live for those two sets he did.

  The room became hushed as I covertly watched Toby and his friend Milo get up on the stage. Milo played the sax like it was an extension of his body. Toby played the piano like it was a woman’s body. Mine, preferably. In my dreams, anyway.

  The deep, resonant notes of the song’s first bar hung in the air over the room as Milo picked up his sax. He blew through the mouthpiece, bringing a mournful wail into the room to sit on top of Toby’s melody, and off they went. It was beautiful, sensual, mesmerizing.

  It was interrupted by a man sitting down next to me at my little private table.

  I looked out across the room and saw there were plenty of other tables available. I glanced back at the guy and gave him a pointed look.

  “Nice night,” he said, tipping his beer to me.

  “Uh, yeah.” I took another sip of the extremely sweet Shirley Temple and looked around again. I had no desire to talk to this man when I could be zoning out on Toby’s music.

  “Come here often?”

  Get out of the bad line bag often? No, I didn’t actually say that, but it was very tempting. “Ah, yes, I do come h
ere often. I’ve never seen you here before.” I was resigned to have at least some innocuous conversation with him before I could get him to move on. At most, I would maybe miss one song, and I could still hear it if I split my attention.

  “I’m new in town.”

  “Hmmm.” A particular chord hit me right in the solar plexus.

  “I just moved here a week ago.”

  “That’s nice.” Toby played an arpeggio that rippled like wavelets in a pond.

  “I work for the bank in investments and would be happy to…”

  Blah, blah, blah. I made the appropriate noises where I thought they belonged. He just kept talking.

  Until…

  “You’re pretty cute. I like your hair.”

  I turned to him, not sure if I’d heard correctly. “What?”

  “I said you’re cute and I like your hair.” His jade green eyes seemed to try to peer down into the depths of my soul.

  I admit I was a little captivated. A compliment and a pickup in one night. I hadn’t been picked up in some time. That was Caro’s department. “Um, thank you.”

  “So what are you doing tonight?”

  I waved my glass around the room. “This.”

  “Yeah, sounds great. I really like the instrument with the brass buttons.”

  The penetrating stare wasn’t letting up, and it started to unnerve me a little. “Um, yeah, me, too. The sax is a nice complement to the piano.”

  Now it was his turn to hum noncommittally—yes or no, I had no clue. Why was he still sitting here? Compliment or not, I certainly wasn’t giving off any signs that I wanted the company.

  “Hey, I was thinking.” He said it like it was a revelation.

  This was probably not going to be good.

  “Would you like to go somewhere a little quieter? Like your apartment?” The green eyes practically glowed in the near dark. His dark hair waved back from his broad forehead and masculine forearms rested on the small table, his grip firm on the beer bottle. “I’d really like to get to know you, and it’s loud in here.” He gave me a smile I thought he might have meant to be disarming, but it wasn’t.

  How did he know I had an apartment? Although, on second thought, I guess it wasn’t that farfetched an assumption. And it had been exactly a year ago tonight that I’d started lusting after Toby. A little real male attention wouldn’t go unnoticed.

  But then he said, “I hope you have books at your house. I just adore looking over collections. Do you happen to have any leather-bound ones?”

  Um. What was it with leather-bound books? Or was that some kind of weird euphemism for whips and chains? Time to cut this conversation short.

  I looked at my wrist even though there was no watch there. “Oh, damn, I didn’t realize what time it was. My husband should be meeting me here any moment. Thanks for keeping me company, though.”

  The look of disappointment on his face was worth something, at least. So was the fact that he got up from the table, leaving his half-finished beer, and headed straight out the door. I must have been more devastating than I had realized. Yay, me.

  I drank four more Shirley Temples and wished I could get up on the keyboard and let my body be Toby’s keys. I got lost in the music after that weird quasi-pickup.

  He wanted to look at my books? That was a new one to me. Guess I’d been out of the dating pool for a while. But maybe it was time to get back in. Then I looked at Toby again. He seemed to be looking right at me as he went into a solo with Max playing a bass counter melody. Yum.

  Woo! Was it getting hot in here, or was it just me?

  I had remained in my seat during their break, and now they were finishing up the last song. Traditionally, this was when I’d slip out so as to escape getting spotted. Since I had a little celebration planned for myself at home, and a powerful need to find out what Arrol had been doing all night, I left a tip on the table for Amy and grabbed my coat. I could have sworn Toby waved to me on my way out behind the bar, but that was ridiculous. He never paid attention to anything but the music when he was here. It was almost like a trance, and made me wonder if he was that focused when he was with a woman.

  Whew. Yeah, it was hot in here.

  I let the back door swing shut behind me on a haunting song that spoke of dark nights and hot sheets. Ah, to be those keys.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My phone rang in my purse, breaking my trance. I fished through my bag, hit the answer screen, and listened to Phoebe tell me what a great time she and Mom were having and how she wouldn’t be home until at least midnight. Apparently the French film was a double feature.

  After a short walk that didn’t involve any stumbles (Shirley Temples have no liquor in them), I zoomed up the stairs to my apartment, yanked open the door, and jumped onto the couch.

  Arrol yelled when I landed on him, so I apologized—sheepishly, of course. “Um, sorry about the ass landing.”

  “Right.” He rolled his eyes. “No problem at all, though I do think you ruined my little buttonhole flower.”

  Ugh. “I’ll get you a new one. But what are you doing out here? I specifically told you not to leave my room. Didn’t I?”

  He ignored the important part on my conversation. No surprise there. “Yes, you will get me a new one. I need to look good for the ladies.” The eyebrow shot up.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll get you a lady. As in one. As in you are not going to be having big old orgies in my house, so you can be monogamous.”

  “Very well, one will suffice.” He rearranged his clothes, took off his hat, and smoothed down his hair. His hair stuck straight up from his head like one of those troll dolls, but I wisely kept myself from laughing at him.

  “Ahem.” I covered my mouth with my hand for a sec. “Now, I only see one problem with this whole getting-you-a-fairy thing.”

  “And what is this imaginary problem you have come up with to get out of fulfilling your promise?”

  “Hey!” I was mighty offended. “I’m not trying to get out of anything. I just have no idea how I’ll know whether the fairy I’m buying will come alive at night. No way does every single statue come to life every night.”

  “You are absolutely right.”

  He sat down as I looked at him stunned. Right? Me? Did I need a cotton swab to clean out my ears?

  “I said you were right in this instance, woman. Do not go all jiggy on my ass.”

  Okay, this time I couldn’t help it. “I, um”—snicker—“I am nearly positive you just used that wrong.”

  “Whatevs. All I’m saying is that you got one thing right out of a mass of wrongs, so don’t go breaking your arm patting yourself on the back.”

  Were we about to go back to him calling me “human”? I didn’t want that, so I deftly changed the subject. “Sorry, I was just happy I’d gotten something right. Continue. How will I know whether a statue will come alive?” I rested back against the couch and thought about the Champagne I had chilling in the refrigerator.

  “I will need to inspect it. Unless you have come across a leather-bound book?” He looked so hopeful in that second I wanted to say yes, just to keep his smile genuine.

  I was tired of leather-bound books. The librarian, the guy, and now Arrol. “I don’t have a book that has any leather on it.” I waved at my bookshelves groaning with the weight of my many paperbacks and hardback fairy books. I was a little surprised he hadn’t taken some of them down and used them as porn. I wasn’t going to make the suggestion, though, because…ew!

  “Okay, okay. Chill!”

  “I’m chilled.” I pulled myself up to my full sitting height.

  “You don’t seem chilled.”

  I glared at him.

  “Okay.” He put up his hands, almost as if in surrender.

  I harrumphed. “All right, we’ll take care of the statue thing tomorrow. Right now I want to know what you found out about the ball and when can I ask it all the burning questions I need answered.” I rubbed my hands together. I hadn�
�t realized until just now that I had handed the ball over to Arrol earlier today without a single qualm or possessive feeling. Oh, God, did that mean it no longer belonged to me? My breath grew short and hard in my chest.

  “No, woman, it is yours and will answer at your command. You were able to give the ball to me earlier because to some extent you trust me.”

  Huh, go figure. “Interesting. So what did you find out?”

  He sat down next to me on the couch, his little legs sticking straight out to the middle of the cushion. “This is definitely the ball my previous master had. I think it has come to you with a purpose.”

  That sounded ominous. “What does that mean?”

  He rubbed the bridge of his rounded nose. “The ball will only talk to certain people, if I remember correctly. If it is talking to you, then it has a reason for what it is doing.”

  “I just thought I was special.”

  “I bet you did.” He laughed, and it wasn’t the normally caustic-sounding mirth. That was almost better than being “woman.” “Everyone wants to be special, and in this case you are. It won’t talk to just anyone. You have to be open to it and believe in it for the messages to come through.”

  Hmmm. So I was special. This was my night for compliments. It reminded me of the guy who’d sat down next to me and the way he thought I was pretty. Invasion of the basic principles of too much eye contact aside, he hadn’t been bad-looking.

  Which got me thinking that maybe a year was long enough to lust after someone I could never have in a million years, and I should instead go after someone who was attainable. So what if Toby was hot and nice and yummy and hot. I wasn’t that shallow. And the guy at the bar, no matter how weird the penetrating stare was, had been interested. There was no discounting interest when I was trying to convince myself to maybe step out of the safe fantasy world and perhaps dip a toe into the real world of dating. I wasn’t committing to actually giving up my fantasy life for a real relationship, but maybe I needed to expand my horizons a little with more than one object de lust.

  “Your attention is needed here in the room. I do not have time for your daydreaming.”