The Curve Ball

by Emilia Beaumont

  “I know you’re ready for round two,” he said. “And I don’t think I can be a gentleman for very much longer.”

  11

  Luke

  I was hard as a rock. It had been a long time since I had wanted a woman this badly, but the moment she had leaned over and kissed me, I knew eventually we were going to both go up in flames.

  Throwing my truck into park, I climbed out, hoping that she hadn’t grown chicken and driven on past. But there she was, climbing out of her parked car behind me and I felt the surge of relief at the sight.

  On the way over, I’d texted Darren and told him to get the hell out of the apartment, not wanting any reason for her to back out. He had protested, but I had finally told him that he owed me from me doing the same for him. Now I had the place to myself for at least a few hours and I could not wait.

  “Hey,” I said as she walked over looking a bit uncertain. “Welcome to Casa de Luke.”

  “Nice,” she said approvingly. “It looks a bit like my apartment building, except taller,” she admitted as she glanced at the exterior of the building. “I wanted a house, but they are so expensive, and I just rent the apartment above where I work.”

  “Yeah, it’s tough to buy right now,” I agreed, thinking of my measly bank account and not particularly liking the way this conversation was going. It was like the fire had been extinguished—replaced with polite small talk. Was she was having second thoughts? Or maybe she was just nervous… “Shall we go up?”

  She nodded and I let her go up the stairs first to the second level. I was relieved not to see Darren sitting on the couch when I swung the door open. There was always the chance he’d ignored my request and stayed. But if he’d been there, I probably would have thrown him off of the balcony.

  “I know it’s not fancy,” I started out and hurried to tidy a few stray items away. I was somewhat nervous about having a woman over to my place. I usually went to theirs instead. Much easy to sneak out in the middle of the night. But I guess it wasn’t just that. I was embarrassed that all I had to offer was four walls and a queen-sized bed in this life. That and I didn’t want them to remember where I lived; but with Cara, well, I didn’t care. I knew this wasn’t going to be the only time we were together. She’d be a drug that I wouldn’t be able to quit.

  “It’s fine,” she said, looking at me with those come-hither eyes. “Small, but nice.”

  We stood looking at each from across the room, with nothing in between us but the air we breathed. But then she nibbled at her lip and I couldn’t help but go to her, closing the distance in seconds. I grabbed her hand, and led her to my bedroom. She laughed as I pulled her through the door, glad that I had at least cleaned up my space earlier today. “This is my room,” I said hastily, my hands going around her waist.

  “It’s nice as well,” she answered with a little giggle. She was so nervous and I couldn’t help but grin at the fact. We were quite a pair. Sitting on the bed, I pulled her down onto my lap. “Let’s talk.”

  “Talk, really? About what?” she asked, hooking her arms around my neck, her fingers playing with my too-long hair.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, anything.” I wanted to take this slow, to have her feel comfortable around me. To show her I wasn’t that ass she’d met in the bar. “What do you do?”

  She laughed huskily. “I am a psychologist.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. Great, a woman who could mess with my mind and I wouldn’t even know it. But then it clicked… of course she was, that would make sense. I remembered Lucia mentioning them being partners.

  “Yeah, marriage counseling for the most part. Lucia is my partner in crime.”

  “That’s interesting,” I said, meaning it. Back long ago my parents tried to get me to go to a therapist and I found them stuffy and boring. Now if Cara had been my therapist, I might’ve been more open to spilling my guts.

  “That it is,” she laughed again, her fingers drawing little circles on the back of my neck. “Never a dull moment that’s for sure. How did you get into construction?”

  I sighed inwardly, not really wanting to talk about me. “Darren.”

  “Who’s Darren?”

  “My roommate and my partner in crime,” I said, feeling uneasy about discussing anything about my life. “He got me the job and let me rent this room.”

  She looked at me, a thousand questions floating around in her eyes. “You aren’t going to tell me anything else are you?”

  I placed my hands on her waist and motioned her to stand up. She did and I stood up, too. “Why don’t you get comfortable and I will get us some beer? Make yourself at home.”

  Without another word, I walked out into the kitchen, taking a moment to place my hands on the counter, my breathing heavy. She was prying into my private life, a life I didn’t care to discuss with anyone, even if I had been the one to open the door with all that bullshit “let’s talk” crap.

  It didn’t matter what I told her, it wasn’t going to be the truth. It couldn’t be the truth. It had become my dirty, little secret and I wasn’t in any position to share that information lest I wanted her to go screaming out of the apartment. No, I wasn’t going to tell anyone.

  Frustration in my veins, I pulled two beers out of the fridge and walked back to the bedroom, my intention to get her naked so that I could bury myself between her thighs and forget about all of it for a while: my life, and my former life. There would be no more talk. I’d have her moaning instead.

  I walked into my bedroom to find Cara standing near the bookcase that held all of my shit, an open yearbook in her hands. Fuck.

  “What are you doing?” I asked roughly, setting down the beers on my dresser.

  She turned the book around, her eyes flashing. “You lied to me? Who the hell are you?”

  I looked at the picture of me on the mound, in my stance during the championship game in my junior year. I had thrown a fucking perfect game that day in front of numerous college scouts. But it wasn’t the picture that had her all in a tizzy, it was the first name under it. “That’s me.”

  “I can see that,” she said, fury in her movements as she shoved the book toward me. “But that’s not your name. Mark? I’m sure Luke isn’t short for that name.”

  I grabbed the yearbook and flung it to the floor. It landed with a thud on the thin carpet. “It’s not important. I’m Luke and that’s all you need to know.”

  “The hell it is,” she said angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure if I want to continue anything with a man who can’t even get his name right.”

  Fury welled up inside and I stepped aside, all of the plans for what we were going to do flying right out of the window. “Fine. Then you’re welcome to go at any time.”

  She stared at me for a moment and I winced as I saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes. Damn, I was letting her down—as well as ruining everything I’d managed to build up with her—but I wasn’t going to tell a fucking therapist my secrets.

  God knows what would happen then. I didn’t even know her… much less could trust her with something so important. I liked her, but I wasn’t going down that road of making this anything remotely permanent.

  “Fine,” she said, and grabbed her shoes that had fallen from her feet when I’d pulled her onto the bed. “I can’t sleep with someone who won’t be honest with me.”

  I shrugged as if I didn’t give a shit and she stormed out of my room, down the hall and out the front door, slamming it hard behind her. It was then that I leaned against the doorframe of my room, some of the fight leaving me. She didn’t understand. No one understood what my life had been like before that day. Why the hell did it matter anyway? I couldn’t get that life back, no matter how hard I tried. Those days, those wonderful days where I was on the top of the fucking world, were over. And all that was left was this shell… and even then I still had to keep my fucking mouth shut about my best days, just in case it harmed my parents.

  The door
bell rang and I pushed off the frame. A small spark of hope flared in my chest. Maybe she was going to tell me it didn’t matter who I was, that she was going to forget that she had ever seen that book and we could go back to teasing each other mercilessly. Throwing open the door, an apologetic grin died as I recognized the man standing in the doorway.

  “Dad?”

  “Marcus,” he said, a smile on his face. He obviously thought I’d been smiling at him. I replaced my look with a scowl.

  He looked older than I remembered, his hair thinner on top of his head and a lot grayer. “God, it’s good to see you, son.”

  All of my past feelings slammed into me with the full force of a speeding freight train. The anger I felt toward him and seeing him again, made me to take a step backward, for fear I’d hit him… and never stop.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  His smile withered away like a dying flower and he looked at me, imploring me with his eyes. “Mark, can I come in? We have to talk.”

  “No. And that’s not my name anymore! You made sure of that. I’ve told you countless times to leave me the fuck alone.”

  “Son,” he started before I slammed the door shut, locking it to let him know that I meant business.

  I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to relive the past and how good it had been. He had been the reason my life had been turned upside down, the reason I was in this hellhole having to pretend I enjoyed this life I had been handed. I never wanted to see him again… the only person I remotely wanted to see I’d just sent running from my apartment.

  12

  Cara

  I cried all the way home. Mostly in frustration at what had just happened. How he’d done a complete one-eighty, going from sweet to stubborn, and then for me to find out that I was about to sleep with a liar, ugh it pissed me off. Yet I was more angry with myself for even giving him a chance. I should’ve trusted my instincts.

  Why did I have to pick the losers?

  Swinging into the small parking lot behind the office and my apartment, I parked the car. After a brisk walk I opened the door to my apartment then slammed it shut, wincing as I realized I probably woke up half the neighborhood with that move.

  I needed a drink. I needed a friend. Hell, I needed ice cream.

  Grabbing my mail before I headed to the kitchen, determined to find two out of the three at least, familiar handwriting on an envelope caught my eye and I felt the emotion well up in my chest, stuttering my breath.

  Oh no, not tonight. I couldn’t do this tonight. Yet despite my reservations, I tore open the letter, my hands shaking as I read its contents. I couldn’t not open it and leave it sitting there to torture me all night.

  Dear Ms. Young, I waited for you to come to my first few practices. I want to meet you. I want to meet my real mom. Please. I’m the kid with brown hair, blue eyes, and new cleats.

  It was signed “James” once more in big, loopy handwriting and I sagged against the counter, the tears falling in earnest now. How could I live with myself if I didn’t meet this kid, and let him down again, when he was desperate to meet me? I needed help, I needed guidance.

  Placing the letter carefully on my counter, I pulled out my cell, firing off an SOS text to Lucia. It was time for me to come clean about everything: Luke, the adoption, all of it. I had hidden it too long now and the weight was too much to bear.

  It took all of thirty minutes for my doorbell to ring. Dressed in a comfortable pair of pajamas that were soft from many cycles through the wash, I found Lucia on my doorstep holding two full bags.

  “You came dressed like that?”

  She shrugged. “I’m getting eccentric in my old age. Here,” she stated as she walked in. “I didn’t know if this was a chocolate sort of emergency or rocky road so I brought them all. Seriously, don’t send a pregnant woman to the grocery store at midnight.”

  I took one of the bags and carried it to the kitchen, my stomach in knots. I didn’t know how she was going to react to my story and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin her opinion of me. She was my only real friend, my best friend, and I couldn’t do this without her. “Thanks for coming over.”

  Lucia set the other bag on the counter and started to pull out numerous ice cream containers, handing them to me so I could put them in my little freezer. “You sounded desperate in your text. Jacob understood I needed to come.” She picked out her carton and motioned to my couch. “Should we sit down or do you need to lie down for this?”

  I gave a half-hearted laugh and chose a pint of chocolate myself. “I can sit.”

  We walked over to the couch and got comfortable, digging into the cold treat in silence for a while.

  “So,” Lucia said after a few moments, her laden spoon pausing at her mouth. “What’s up? This isn’t about Luke is it?”

  I swallowed the mouthful of chocolate ice cream I had. “I don’t even know where to start,” I sighed, then stabbed the ice cream with my spoon. “This… just understand I was confused and didn’t know what was the right thing to do back then.”

  “Sounds serious,” she said and set her carton aside and put her therapist face on. “Spill it. You have my full attention.”

  I bit my lip and paused to look in her eyes, hoping she’d understand. Hoping she’d forgive me for not telling her before.

  “I have a kid,” I rushed out. Then watched as Lucia’s expression went from worry to full-on surprise. “He’s eight and he’s started to contact me via mail.”

  “Oh my god,” she breathed. “I had no idea.”

  “It happened a long time ago,” I blew out, setting my carton aside and drawing my knees up to my chest. “I gave him up for adoption because I was a stupid teenager and had no way to take care of him. My mom, she refused to help me raise him, she didn’t want another child and I had no choice but to give him up.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” Lucia said automatically, reaching out to touch my arm. “Gosh, I always wondered how it came about that you were older than me at college and yet in the same year. You were always vague about that.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I kinda blamed it on my mom… but really it was my own doing.”

  “Cara, you’ve told me what you’ve had to go through with your mom before, not this of course, but I totally understand. And you are far from stupid, even the teen-age version of you. You did a wonderful, selfless act in order for your child to have a better life than what you could’ve provided at the time.”

  “I know,” I said, my shoulders slumping. “And I fully expected to never see him again but he’s here and he’s contacting me, Luce. I tried to go see him, but I chickened out. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he asks me questions I can’t answer?”

  “Oh, sweetie,” she sighed, her eyes full of concern. “You have to at least give him the chance to do all of those things. He’s reached out to you so obviously he is interested in meeting you. But if you’re not ready, that’s okay, too. Maybe he’s just curious. Aren’t you a little bit curious yourself?”

  “Of course I am,” I said. “I have tried to picture what he looks like, what his favorite things are. I have all of these thoughts about him.”

  She leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well then you are gonna have to meet him to get all of those questions answered. Is that why you went to a Little League practice?”

  I nodded, thinking about how scared I was to be there. “Yeah. I fully didn’t expect to see Luke there either. That’s another mess I have to deal with…”

  “What do you mean?” Lucia replied, the small smile on her face disappearing. “Did you not get lucky tonight?”

  “No that’s the other thing,” I sighed, wishing the evening had turned out differently. “He’s going by a fake name. I think his real name is Mark, not Luke. Plus he’s from North Carolina. Who moves to Florida from North Carolina?”

  “Oh my,” she said, her eyes growing round again. “Are you sure? He seems like such a nice
guy. Is Luke just his middle name or something?”

  I shook my head, though I really didn’t know whether it was or not. By the way he reacted to my questions, I figured that was probably a big, fat negative. “No he wouldn’t tell me why, either. He clammed up straight away. It was like I’d been out with two different people. Then I left. Why does someone hide who he really is anyway?”

  “Maybe he just hated his real name and changed it? People do that don’t they?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, but this didn’t seem like that. This was different.”

  Her eyes widened as if a thought just occurred to her. “Maybe he’s in witness protection!” Lucia suggested. “Or he could be an undercover cop. Oooh! Or a spy!”

  “You’ve been reading too many thrillers,” I said and smiled at her overactive imagination. I mean she could be right after all, things like that did happen in real life I supposed. Either way I couldn’t be with someone who kept a secret like that… couldn’t trust me enough to tell me.

  “God, Jacob is going to have a field day with this. He said something was off about the guy, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. I just thought he was awestruck by Jacob. I would have never expected this.”

  “Yeah, me neither,” I sighed. “See why I needed ice cream and a friend?”

  “No doubt,” she answered. “I’m sorry your life has taken a bit of a beating… but we’ll make it better I promise.”

  I laughed. “Not everyone’s can be as perfect as yours is, honey.”

  Lucia looked affronted. “Mine is totally not perfect. I have a kid at home who refuses to sleep in her own bed, so it’s hard to get some alone time, or a decent night’s sleep, for that matter. But beside that I am a cluster-bomb of hormones and everything Jacob says lately pisses me off. Poor guy, he can’t do anything right.” She laughed. “At least we have ice cream though!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said and leaned into her. “But you kinda did get knocked up again.”