by S. E. Rose
I grab Tabitha’s suitcase, and she follows me as we get into the elevator. It dings on floor ten. There are only four units per floor. Something I liked about the building. My floor consists of old Mrs. Thomas, who likes to watch ball games from the rooftop patio, Ken Yeong a techie young guy, and Brad and Missy Henson, both lobbyists. I open my door and hold out my hand.
“After you.”
“Thanks.”
Tabitha walks inside. I can see her sizing up the place. It’s not huge like my house. This is a practical apartment. It has an open-concept living, dining, and kitchen area, a den, bathroom, and bedroom. It does have a nice balcony though and giant windows and tall ceilings that help it feel bigger than the nine hundred square feet that it is.
“Here, my den has a pullout bed,” I say to her as I walk down the hallway. Opening the door, I set her suitcase down before walking into the bathroom in the hallway that connects to my room. “There’s a washer and dryer in here if you want to wash your clothes. There’s a drugstore next door if you need any toiletries or anything else. And you can use the extra set of keys on the hook by the front door.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re serious.”
I frown. “Serious about what?”
“You’re just going to let me stay here? A perfect stranger.”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t just find you on the side of the road.” I can’t explain that I come from a family that takes in strays. We’ve had at least three different friends of my siblings spend time living with us when their home life went to shit, plus when my cousin was having issues with his parents, he spent a summer at our house. And don’t get me started on the four-legged strays that made their home with the Moore clan.
My phone buzzes again, and I know I need to leave. I feel awful leaving her like this. “Listen, I need to get to practice. Do you need anything else right now?”
She looks lost as she scans her surroundings again. “Do you have a computer I can use? I back up all my files to a cloud.” I nod and motion to my laptop that’s sitting on the kitchen bar top.
“Thanks again, Kent,” she says. “I promise, I’ll be out of your hair soon. I do appreciate all of this.” She motions around the apartment.
At a loss for words, which is unusual for me, I nod and leave. On the way out, I let Carlos at the front desk know that Tabitha is staying with me. I cross the two blocks to the stadium where I know our coach, Clive Backster, is gonna rip me a new one for being so late. FML.
Chapter Five
I let the shower water run over my sore muscles. Clive being pissed was an understatement. Needless to say, my tardiness cost me...literally and figuratively.
“Damn, Backs showed you who’s boss,” Ward’s voice fills the silence. I turn, and he’s stepping into the shower spray.
“I...fucked up. It’s my fault,” I admit, taking responsibility, something that I haven’t done much of until recently.
“Why were you so fucking late, anyhow?” he asks me.
I groan. “I was getting my photo taken for some charity thing and the damn building caught on fire. The photographer lives there and had nowhere to go, so I sort of let her crash at the apartment. I mean until she figures her shit out.”
Ward’s eyebrows shoot up, and he smirks. “You sorta let her?”
I give him a pointed look. “Shut up, dick. It’s not like that.”
“Oh? How is it, then? Explain it to me.”
I run a hand over my wet face. Ward Snare is one of my best friends. He can also be a prima donna, diva, and the biggest asshole ever. But he’s always there when I need him.
I lean back against the tile and look over at him. “I’m crazy, aren’t I?”
Ward laughs. I want to punch his perfect face.
I close my eyes and let the hot water run over my body. It feels amazing after soaking my arm in an ice bucket. I rotate my arm a few times.
“You OK?” Ward asks, his voice muffled from the water.
“Yeah.”
When I open my eyes, Ward is giving me a serious look.
“Dude, just remember. Keep your head in the game. We are this close to glory,” he says, holding his forefinger and thumb an inch apart to drive home his point. I know he’s right. Playoffs are around the corner and if we keep up our track record, we have a shot at the World Series.
I nod and turn off the water. Grabbing a towel, I go change. I have a schedule for game days and tomorrow is a game day. I’ll sleep at the apartment tonight, so I can get over to the field for my workout and stretching. Then I have downtime followed by a warm-up and finally a little Zen time before we play. My routine during the season is as predictable as the sunrise. That thought has me pondering Di’s suggestion again.
I head back to the apartment. It’s time for a gym workout, followed by some stretching, a light dinner and a little reading before bed. I laugh when people think I have some A-lister lifestyle because I play professional ball. I seldom get a chance to go out. I started to go down that path when I was first signed. I spent too much money, went out too many times during the week, and during the off-season...well, I learned from my mistakes. I only occasionally go out during the season now. And I had to part with my baby...AKA my over-the-top vehicle purchase. My good friend Amery talked me into selling her. I still might shed a tear over that once in a while.
Chapter Six
Tabitha
I look at the files I’ve pulled up on Kent’s computer. I shake my head at his password: that$rhetorical5. He claims it’s a family thing. I sigh with relief. Everything is on my cloud. I didn’t lose any files.
My phone pings. I see Brix’s face on my phone.
I answer the call on speakerphone. “Hey.”
“Where are you?”
“At my client’s apartment…it’s all gone…” I add in a whisper, my bottom lip quivering.
“Shit. What about the cloud?”
I sigh. “Thank god you set that up for me!” I tell him. “Everything is here.”
“Who’s this client?”
“A guy.”
“Tabs…” my brother growls.
I roll my eyes. My big brother is overprotective. I guess his overbearing nature is probably a direct result of our fucked-up family situation, but it still drives me nuts.
Brixton is five years older than me. A year after I was born, our dad split. No one knows where he was from, to begin with, and we’ve never gone looking for him. Our mom tried her best, but one early morning on her way to a second job she was in a bad car accident. Swamped in medical bills and physical pain, she started misusing her pain meds. I was only four, so I don’t remember much, but Brixton says she stopped going to work, stopped doing anything.
He learned I was old enough to go to nursery school because his friend’s sister was my age and was going. He was afraid to tell anyone about our mom for fear that someone would take us away. We’d only met our grandparents on a few occasions when Mom had made up with them and allowed them to see us. Brix knew where they lived and one day after school, he walked there and knocked on the door. To say my grandmother was surprised was the understatement of the century. She drove Brixton back to our house. She tried talking my mom into sending me to school, but Mom told her to leave. She didn’t come back.
Not long after that, I tried to wake our mom while Brix was at school, but she just moaned for me to go make my food because I wasn’t a baby anymore. I tried to find food, but we didn’t have anything. I scoured the cabinets and found one can of soup behind some pots. I wasn’t allowed to use the stove, so I set it in the microwave. I couldn’t read yet. I didn’t know how long to cook it for, so I just pressed four a couple of times because that was my age and I knew that number. Brix had started teaching me numbers.
I decided to go play and wait for the beep.
My room was in the way back of the tiny house we rented. I smelled it at first, the smoke. I opened my door and thick black smoke billowed down our hallway.
; I tried to run to the kitchen, but there were flames. I called out for Mommy but couldn’t get to her.
I ran down the hallway and climbed out of Brix’s window because it had no screen on it. I ran around the front and could see flames through the roof. I started to run to the front door when two hands grabbed me.
“No!” Brixton shouted. He still had on his backpack, having walked home from school.
“Mommy!” I yelled to him, tears in my eyes. I knew then it was all my fault.
“Tabs!” I hear Brix’s voice again, bringing me out of my memories.
“Listen, it’s fine. Don’t tell them,” I say, referring to our grandparents, who we lived with after our mother’s death. “I’m gonna stay here for a few days. I need to speak to my landlord. They let me get a few things, but they were still cleaning up when I left.”
“Did you call your insurance company?”
Brix made me get renters insurance, which I’m thankful for right now. “Not yet.”
I know that right now Brix’s vein in his forehead is throbbing and his face is getting flushed.
“Calm down, I just changed and made sure my files are OK. It’s next on my to-do list.”
I start to zone out as Brix begins rattling off a list of things I need to do, cursing himself for being away.
“Am I boring you?”
The question pulls me out of my daze again. “No, asshat. I’m just...it’s been a long day.” I groan and pull my hair back into a messy bun.
Brixton sighs. “Sorry, Tabby. I am. I wish I was there to help. You know, you can go stay at my place. You don’t have to stay with some stranger.”
I love that he doesn’t insist I run home to PopPop and Grandma’s house. I also love that he wants me to stay at his place. I have no idea why I don’t go there. I should go there. That is the rational thing to do. But something about Kent...intrigues me. I mean seriously, how often do famous baseball players offer up their residence to me. Plus, I imagine he’s not home much, so I have the place to myself. And it’s palatial compared to Brix’s tiny studio. It’s like seeing how the other half live. And the fact that he’s a jock, means he’s not my type, so I can stay here in a safe place without worrying about anything.
I look around. The apartment is impersonal. There’s not much in decor. The furniture is simple. I’m surprised it doesn’t have more…decorating bling.
“I’m fine. Let me figure out what’s going on with my place and then we’ll talk, OK?”
“Fine, but seriously, be careful, Tabs.”
“I will, Brixy-Wixy.”
I hang up and turn toward the hallway. I walk into Kent’s room. I notice only one photo on a dresser. Picking it up to look more closely, I have to guess that it’s his family, three sisters and a brother and two loving parents. Everyone is smiling. They look like something out of a magazine, perfection. They are all beautiful. I look up at the mirror in front of me and frown. I have some crazy temporary hair color going on and something about looking at this photo and being in Kent’s apartment has me craving to see my true self.
I make the few responsible calls to my insurance company and landlord before heading down to the local pharmacy. It’s time for a change.
Kent
“Tabitha?”
The apartment is dimly lit only by a small lamp in the corner of my family room. Walking back toward the den, I see the bathroom light on and the door open. I peek inside. Holy. Shit.
There are smears of red everywhere. It’s a total crime scene.
I start to panic. “Tabitha?” My voice is louder this time as I step back and scan the hallway for...well, shit, I don’t know what I’m looking for exactly.
Before I can read too much into what I’m seeing, the den’s door flies open, and a very different-looking Tabitha stands in front of me...her hair is…red. Not a fake red either, a red that looks so natural on her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, confusion clouding her face.
“I…I…” I clear my throat and look back into the bathroom.
“Oh....sorry. I’ll clean it up in a minute.”
Her puzzled face suddenly evaporates, replaced with a grin. The grin morphs into a full-blown smile and then laughter erupts from her lips. Her eyes well with tears as she doubles over and slaps her legs. “Oh my god. You thought…the hair dye…oh god…”
I roll my eyes. She tries to pull herself together but just ends up leaning against the doorjamb, trying to catch her breath. “Just…give me a minute.”
“Please, take your time,” I retort, crossing my arms.
After a few moments, she regains her composure. “It’s just hair dye.”
I roll my eyes again. “Thanks, Sherlock. I figured that one out.”
She shrugs and turns toward my kitchen. I follow and watch as she grabs cleaning spray and some paper towels.
“Is it natural?” I ask her as she walks back toward the bathroom.
She turns, frowning. “Is what natural?”
I motion toward her hair. Her face flushes slightly as she nods, her fingers twirling a lock of it. I have a sudden urge to touch it. I don’t know what overcomes me as I step toward her and take the lock out of her fingers, running it between my finger and thumb. Her hair is soft and smooth. The color is...stunning. I ponder why she ever dyed it to begin with. I also notice her nose piercing is gone.
“I like it.”
“Thanks,” she whispers before turning and heading toward the bathroom, presumably to clean it.
I watch her ass sway as she walks down the hall and my mind goes straight to the gutter, as I wonder if the carpet matches the curtains. Shit, I’m going straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.
My phone pings and I look down.
Di: Soooo???
Me: So, what?
Di: Photos...good?
I shake my head. She knew I had them today. I also know that Mother Hen is behind this text. Hell, she’s probably just going to screenshot my answer to Lanie.
I change to the family chat because it will make my life easier in the long run.
Me: Fam – heads up. I have a guest staying at my apartment. Long story but the photographer taking my photos for the hospital charity thing had a fire at her studio/apartment. I offered up my place while she gets sorted out.
I barely hit send before the Spanish Inquisition begins.
Mothership: Oh dear! Is she OK? Does she need anything? Are you OK? What happened? Call me.
Di: Seriously? The family chat.
Mother Hen: Jesus H – gonna need more deets than that
Kyles: Wait, what?
C-Dog: Nice...the old “but her place burned down” excuse...savvy. I like ur style!
Me: Mom – I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m tired. Di – (middle finger emoji) Lanie – it’s a LONG story. Ky – explain at family dinner. C-Dog – Don’t make me beat you!
I set my phone down, letting them all respond because I know I just can’t at this moment. Sometimes, my family is overwhelming even for me.
“Jeez, your phone is blowing up,” Tabitha says as she comes back into the family room.
I roll my eyes. “It’s my family. Just ignore them.”
I see something spark in her eyes, but she looks down and goes to throw out the paper towels she’s holding.
“Sorry about all the mess.”
“No worries. It looks good.”
She turns around. “Thanks,” she mumbles, looking down again.
She clears her throat. “I will be out of your hair in a few days. I spoke with my landlord and insurance company. I just need to sort out a few things. My landlord said there’s a space available in a few weeks. My brother has a place in the city, too. I will probably just crash at his apartment since he’s gone.”
Her words nearly ram into each other as she speaks in one breath.
I walk over to her and place a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at me, her face a mix of defiance and courage
that is nothing short of the picture of resilience. I don’t know much about Tabitha Crane, but she’s strong, that I can already tell.
“You are more than welcome to stay here as long as you need.”
“I…thank you, Kent, but I don’t want to be a bother.”
I frown. “You aren’t a bother at all.”
She places her hands on her hips and looks at me. “I just painted your bathroom red, so red you thought I had murdered someone.”
I chuckle. “OK, so I’m not used to living with someone. It’s been a hot minute since I was surrounded by a bunch of sisters who beat me into submission.”
Tabitha tries to contain her giggle, but it escapes anyhow. Her face lights up with humor and I want to keep that look on her face. “Your sisters beat you?” Her eyes move up and down my body and I know what she’s thinking.
“Yes. I wasn’t always this size.”
“I should hope not.”
I grin and look down at my watch. It’s late, and I need to get some sleep.
“I have three games in a row this week, but after that, I’d like to take you somewhere. I mean, if you aren’t busy.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You want to take me somewhere?”
I throw my hands into the air in surrender. “I swear I’m not a serial killer.”
She gives me a pointed look. “Sure. That’s what all the serial killers say.”
“OK, there were those three girls, but I swear, I joined serial killers anonymous and it’s been months.”
“Great. Glad to hear you are a reformed serial killer.”
“I mean reformed may be a stretch, but I think you are safe. I never kill those I live with, too close to home.”
“Well, gosh, that’s so reassuring.”
We grin at each other over our playful banter.
My phone buzzes and I turn off my alarm.
“What’s that?”
“I keep a pretty strict schedule during the season. I need to get to bed.”
“Oh, right.” She glances at the clock on my wall.
“Did you find your files, by the way?” I motion to the laptop.