Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  My past and Charlotte’s are on two completely different realms, but we fit. I’ve always heard opposites attract, but I never knew what that was like until her. We’re different, yet the same in a lot of ways.

  “Can someone get the bread out of the oven?” Charlotte asks, cool as a cucumber as she sips wine from a glass Casey poured for her.

  “Got it,” Casey says, grabbing an oven mitt.

  I look around the kitchen and take inventory—large pot of rice cooked and ready to go, salad tossed, table set, wine glasses ready. “What can I do?”

  “I would say just be handsome,” Charlotte muses. “But you do that so well without being told, so…”

  Casey’s gag makes us both laugh. Even though Casey and I are closer in age, she still feels like the little sister I never had.

  When my phone rings, I pull it out of my pocket and immediately answer. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Uh, I think we have the right address,” she says hesitantly. “But there are two cars at the gate.”

  I groan, forcing down a growl bubbling up from the pit of my stomach. “Just go around them. I’ll buzz you in... and make sure the gate shuts before you continue up the drive.”

  Her audible sigh is full of annoyance. “Isn’t there something you can do… or the police?” she asks. “I mean, this is harassment.”

  I couldn’t agree more. But apparently, the fucking paps have rights, too. The only thing the authorities can do is keep them off Charlotte’s private property, but that’s even questionable. They’re sneaky mother fuckers.

  Charlotte catches my attention and motions to the keypad, the happiness she’d found in the kitchen falling away for a split second.

  “Okay, Mom,” I say, ignoring her question for now. “Drive in and then to the left, you’ll see the side door.”

  A few moments later, my parents drive up in a rental car, which looks oddly like the one they have at home—a newer version of the Toyota Corolla I drive. I bought mine from my dad for five hundred bucks, which was basically just him keeping me responsible and teaching me the value of a dollar. I appreciate it. I appreciate everything they’ve done for me. When my dad runs around to open my mom’s door, I smile.

  Yep, got that from him, too.

  “Hey,” I say, walking out into the drive to greet them. First, my mom latches onto me like she hasn’t seen me in years. Then, my dad is beating the shit out of my back. “Great game yesterday,” he chirps into my ear. “You’ve been looking really solid lately. Proud of you.”

  I pull back, giving him the once over. He looks good. Even at fifty-five, he’s in tip-top shape. A lot of people comment on how much we look alike, but I have to laugh at that. The only thing we have in common when it comes to appearance is that we’re both in great physical shape.

  “Honey, you look good,” my mom says, coming up to pat the side of my cheek. “Like, really really good.” Her obvious approval makes me smile, like always. What can I say? Deep down, I’ll always be that little kid who wants his mother’s approval.

  “Thanks,” I tell them both, turning my attention to Charlotte who’s standing in the doorway behind me. “Uh, this is Charlotte.” Not that they don’t know who she is, but I have manners and I always use them, especially when my mom is present. “Charlotte, this is my mom and dad, Brenda and Greg Bennett.”

  She steps out and walks up beside me, stretching her hand out to my mom first. “Hi,” she says, but she isn’t going to get by with that. My mom instantly pulls her in for a gentle hug, much more subdued than the one she just gave me, but sweet nonetheless. “Hello,” Charlotte says in surprise, hugging her back. “It’s really nice to meet you. Bo has only had the best things to say about you.”

  “What about me?” my dad asks, cocking his head to the side. “Does he say the best things about me, too?”

  I laugh, shaking my head.

  “I mean, because he wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me,” my dad teases. “Did he tell you that part? Did he tell you I taught him how to snag a fly ball and swing his bat?”

  Charlotte laughs. “Yeah, he might’ve mentioned that.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he finally says, cutting off the dad talk… for now.

  “It’s really nice to meet you, too,” she says, peering up at him. My dad is also freaking tall, which is another reason people think I look like him. “I see where Bo gets his height.”

  I swallow the thought, deciding to leave that conversation for another time.

  “Something smells amazing,” my mom says, always having perfect timing.

  “Crab and Shrimp Creole,” Charlotte offers. “Bo said you like pretty much everything and I thought since you’re visiting, we’d give you some authentic Cajun food. It’s one of my mom’s recipes.”

  That makes my mom smile even wider. “Sounds wonderful.”

  When we all walk into the kitchen together, Casey is just finishing moving all of the food to the table in the dining room. “Mom, Dad, this is Casey, Charlotte’s sister.”

  I almost said little sister, but now that I know her, I know she hates that label, even though it’s true. Apparently, it makes her sound like a kid and at twenty-three, she’s trying to separate herself from that phase in life.

  “Casey,” my mom says with a layer of sweetness she reserves for people she really likes. “So nice to meet you… officially.” When she pulls her into a hug, Casey goes willingly.

  “Yes, we sat next to each other the last time y’all were in town for Bo’s game,” Casey says. “It’s nice to officially meet you.” Turning to my dad, she offers her hand. “Mr. Bennett,” she says.

  “Greg,” my dad corrects, shaking her hand and giving her an endearing smile. “I remember you. You were really passionate about the game.”

  Casey and Charlotte both laugh.

  “Do you want to know the truth?” Charlotte asks, giving Casey a side-eye, like she’s getting ready to deliver some dirt. “She doesn’t know much about baseball… or football… or tennis or golf or figure skating, but she loves yelling at refs and umps.”

  Casey sighs. “I think I have some pent up anger, and it’s just nice to let it out at people who deserve it.”

  We all get a laugh out of that and now I wish I had a video of Casey watching baseball. I might have to make that happen somehow. She’s always so damn nice. I can’t imagine her getting all worked up like that over a sport. I mean, baseball is life to me, but I know it’s not as life and death to other people.

  “Shall we eat?” Charlotte asks, motioning to the table. “It’s best served hot.”

  After we’re all seated and plates full of delicious food, the light conversation picks up.

  “This is a beautiful house,” my mom comments, passing my dad the basket full of crusty bread. “I love all the white and the openness.”

  “Thank you,” Charlotte says. “I didn’t design it, but I bought it while it was still being built, so I had some say in wall colors and flooring… stuff like that. When I moved back to New Orleans, I knew I wanted something that looked like the houses on St. Charles Street… old mixed with new. Have y’all been on St. Charles?”

  My mom’s eyes light up. “Yes, we took the streetcar down it the last time we were in town. I was just telling Greg we needed to go back tomorrow, if we have time.”

  “It’s beautiful, one of my favorite places in New Orleans,” Casey chimes in. “Charlotte and I used to ride that streetcar for hours, just people watching.”

  I see my dad’s curiosity spike. “You grew up here?” he asks, glancing from Casey to Charlotte.

  “Yep,” Charlotte says. “We lived here until I was eleven, Casey was five. Then we moved to L.A.”

  “Completely different from this LA,” my mom says, making the contrast between Louisiana and Los Angeles.

  Charlotte rolls her eyes and huffs. “Like night and day.”

  We tiptoe around Charlotte’s profession and celebrity status, sticking to safe topics like thei
r other favorite places in New Orleans and recipes their mother and grandmother passed down to them. I’ve already warned Mom and Dad that everything regarding the paparazzi and the album are touchy subjects right now, so I’m appreciative of them avoiding going there.

  Once we’re all stuffed like fat pigs and leaning back in the comfortable chairs at Charlotte’s dining room table, my mom asks to be directed to the powder room. Casey offers to show her, and Charlotte announces she picked up dessert from La Boulangerie, also excusing herself from the table, leaving me and my dad.

  “She’s great,” my dad says, nodding his head thoughtfully and letting me know he’s not finished.

  When he takes a minute, I prompt him. “But?”

  He turns his attention fully on me, leaning his elbows on the table. “But nothing,” he says. “She’s great and I think she’s great for you.”

  I’m skeptical. I figured he’d come here to warn me, give me some lecture about not letting my heart get in the way of my success. He’s given me that speech so many times over the years, it’s literally ingrained on my DNA.

  Don’t let a girl ruin your career.

  One forgotten condom leads to eighteen years of responsibility.

  No one-night stand is worth being tied to someone you don’t really care about.

  I’ve heard it all. Except this. “She’s good for me?” I question, trying to process what he’s saying.

  “Listen,” he says with a sigh, leaning a little closer and lowering his voice when the chatter in the kitchen picks up as Casey, my mom, and Charlotte laugh about something. “Up until now, your life revolved around getting to the majors. That was a huge endeavor, one most people never succeed at, but you did. I always knew you would. But now, you’re here. You made it… you made it farther than I ever did,” he says with a proud smile, his eyes coming up to meet mine. “I’m proud of you.”

  It’s no secret that my dad—Greg Bennett—was a promising athlete. He played for the Kansas City Bluebirds minor league team. He put in his time and years, headed to the majors, if not as a player, then as a manager… at least a hitting coach. But then, things changed. He met my mom and his dreams shifted to match hers. After another year in the minors, he left and started teaching and coaching. They wanted a family and my dad didn’t want my mom’s life to be on hold while he lived his. Sure, they could’ve made it work, plenty of people do, but he wanted something different.

  I admire that. I admire him.

  “Baseball is now your profession,” my dad continues. “And you don’t have to put your personal life on hold to be great at your job. You can do both… have both. I thought I couldn’t, but looking back, I think if I had wanted it enough, I could’ve done it.” He swallows, his gaze turning introspective. “But you want it enough…” He drifts off and I feel the double meaning in his words.

  I want it enough, meaning baseball, but I want her enough too. I can have both.

  Before I met Charlotte, I didn’t think that was possible or that it would ever be true for me, but that was before. After Charlotte, well, there’s only Charlotte.

  And baseball.

  They’re kind of competing for first place and I like it. It keeps me on my toes. I think clearer. I run faster. I try harder. “She’s good for me,” I tell him, repeating his opening line.

  Chapter 20 - Charlotte

  Following a few steps behind Bo’s mom and dad, I duck my head, hiding behind my new wig—auburn and curly—since my blonde one is no longer able to hide my identity thanks to the airport a week or so ago. Between the hat, wig, and glasses, I’m pretty well hidden, but I can’t help feeling exposed no matter where I go and how much of a disguise I wear these days.

  They’re getting to me—the rumors, the photos, the cameras in my face, the questions yelled in my direction. On the outside, I’m trying to stay positive and unaffected, but I can’t help it.

  It was something about the pregnancy rumors that started at the airport that pricked the surface. Since then, every misguided report about me or Bo or us as a couple digs a little deeper.

  “You coming, Honey?” Brenda asks, pausing to stretch an arm out to me.

  “Coming,” I say, taking her outstretched hand and jogging to catch up.

  “You okay?” Her concern is sweet and motherly and it makes me miss my own mom, who has been worried sick about me lately, which makes me feel a tremendous amount of guilt.

  I give her the best smile I can muster. “I’m fine.” Now that we’re through the doors of the players’ entrance, I take my sunglasses off and hope I’m convincing in my act. “I’m good… just hate that y’all have to sit up in the box instead of down in the stands. I know how much you love being as close to the action as possible.”

  “Nonsense,” she says, swatting at my hand that’s now looped around her elbow. “I’ve never sat in a fancy box. I’m actually looking forward to it.” Her brown eyes, reminiscent of mine, go wide in excitement. “And Greg is just beside himself. He’s always wanted to see the game from up here. I promise, we’re not missing out at all.”

  Smiling, I breathe a little easier. “Casey’s excited, too,” I tell her. She had to run an errand and is taking an Uber over here. I told her to text me when she leaves the house and when she gets to the stadium… basically every five minutes until I see her. I know she’s not me, but I would feel horrible if something happened to her because of me.

  “She’s a delight,” Brenda says as we take the private elevator to the box seats. Greg holds the door for us, ever the gentleman—just like his son—then pushes the appropriate floor number. The passes Bo gave us allow us clearance to everything in the stadium. I’m sure he went through a lot of trouble to make today happen and I kind of feel bad about that too, but I also kind of love it. I love that he wants me here bad enough to jump through these kinds of hoops.

  “Yeah, she’s great,” I finally answer, wondering something and speaking it out loud at the same time. “I’m kind of surprised Bo is an only child.” I want to shove my foot into my mouth as soon as the comment is out. That’s a rude thing to say. I don’t know these people enough to delve into their personal lives. “I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head at my stupidity. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No,” Brenda says, blowing it off and giving Greg a small smile when he turns around to look back at her. “We wanted more. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

  And now I feel even worse. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, feeling horrible that I obviously brought up a sensitive subject, and also showed how much I still don’t know about Bo.

  “But we’ve been fortunate. Bo is the best son a mom could ask for.” She beams, her gaze turning upward like she’s fighting back emotion. “And I have my kids at school… and Greg’s kids.” She laughs, squeezing my arm a little extra. “Things work out the way they’re supposed to.”

  I give her arm a squeeze back. “They do.”

  When the elevator opens, we follow Greg to the designated seats and I smile at the view… and the spread. Okay, this is pretty awesome. There’s food and drinks and a guy dressed in a uniform standing by the bar, obviously waiting to take our orders and bring us whatever we’d like.

  By the time we’re settled in some seats, Casey texts me to tell me she’s inside the stadium safely, no issues and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Half an hour later, she’s sitting on one side of me, Brenda on the other, and Greg standing near the ledge for the view of his life. The Revelers take the field and we all sit a little straighter, taking it all in. It’s a beautiful day at the ballpark. Spring is in full swing and it’s nice and toasty in New Orleans. If I was sitting in a regular seat, I wouldn’t be able to tolerate this wig, but with the shade and cool air of the box, I’m good.

  Everything is good.

  Great, actually.

  I could never have imagined this weekend with Bo’s parents going any better. And as much as I’ve felt like my insides are in turmoil, they’ve helped to ba
lance everything out and keep me from diving too far into my head. I’m grateful. It’s been the perfect distraction from all of the media and gossip.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, a word from your home team for today’s special game. Happy Mother’s Day to all you moms out there. Thank you for spending your special day with us.”

  “Bo didn’t say anything about this,” Brenda says with a look of anticipation and awe. “I wonder what they’ve done?”

  About that time, the jumbotron directly in front of us comes to life and Mack Granger appears on the screen in an obvious pre-recorded message.

  “Hey, Mom,” he says with a cheesy grin. “I just want to say Happy Mother’s Day. Sorry I can’t be with you today, but I hope you see this and know how much I love you.” It’s short and sweet, just like Mack. We’re actually about the same height, but for a pro baseball player, he’s kind of short, but really cute and a great personality to boot. Except, he’s known to romance the ladies, a bit of a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy.

  “Awe,” Brenda sighs beside me, her hands clasped under her chin.

  The screen fades out to a field of flowers, very Mother’s Day-ish, and then Ross Davies is on the screen.

  “Mom, you’re the best woman I know. Thank you for being such a great role model and taking such good care of us. I love you.” Ross’s Hollywood good looks don’t go unnoticed and I think I hear a few women in the crowd swoon when he blows a kiss to the screen.

  “He’s easy on the eyes,” Brenda comments, earning a low “mmm hmm” from my sister. I can’t help the laugh as I split my attention between the two of them.

  “Oh, my God,” I say, shaking my head.

  A few more players come on the screen sending their love and gratitude to their mothers, grandmothers for some, and I wonder if Bo made a video and if it’ll make it into the montage. The screen fades again, but just as I think we’re not going to get to hear Bo’s message, his gorgeous face comes up on the screen along with his usual shy smile.