CHAPTER 2 | Dallas
A ubrey’s hand reaches for my forearm as I attempt to pull myself out of her bed. The sheets catch on my thigh, pulling them off the curves of her body. She still wears the blue lacy bra she insisted on putting on for me last night.
“You haven’t had any coffee yet,” she yawns. Her long neon-green nails graze across my skin as I stand up, giving me goosebumps. There’s a distinct difference between her pale complexion and my tanned skin.
I pull on my buffalo-plaid boxers and stuff my legs into my jeans. “I’ll get coffee at home. Do you know where my shirt is?” I scan the clothing-covered floor. We weren’t exactly tidy last night. A few drinks in and Aubrey was ready to jump me, not that she needed the liquid courage.
“How am I supposed to know? You whipped it off before we made it through the door,” she chuckles.
“I’ll check the living room.”
My work shirt lies on the floor behind the orange couch in the living room. Her apartment is decorated to the high heavens. Plants line the windows and coat every flat surface. She has quite an eclectic taste when it comes to furniture. Next to the orange couch sits a navy blue accent chair, a circular rattan coffee table, and an emerald green loveseat. Her walls are lined with different kinds of tapestries, depicting mushrooms, space, and crystals. Somehow, all the colors and décor work together to create a cohesive flow.
“Found it,” I call behind me as I pull it over my head.
Aubrey walks to the kitchen with nothing on but an oversized T-shirt. She looks over her shoulder, looking me up and down with a devilish grin on her face, before turning back toward the coffee pot. “Come on. It only takes a few minutes.”
“Aubrey, I have to get to practice.” I take another step toward the door in an attempt to escape.
“Please?” she asks, giving me those bright blue puppy dog eyes.
“Fine. One cup—”
“Plenty of creamer. I know.” She gives me a sly smile before turning on a dime and starting up the Keurig. “When’s your last game?”
I take a seat on the cold, black metal bench behind the breakfast bar and scroll through my phone to see what I missed since last night. “Next Saturday.”
“What time? Can I come?” she asks, pulling two mugs out of the cabinet.
“It’s at one. Don’t you work at noon?” I secretly hope she can’t make it.
“I don’t start until four since we’ve got Code Names playing that night. They requested a late start and late finish, so we’re open until two instead of one. I could probably come for a few innings,” she explains.
Well, so much for that. Code Names is a punk rock band from Oxly that started a few years ago and they started to make it big last year. They’re coming back to town for a home gig. Part of me is glad I work after the game. Big bands always bring more people, which means more tips. Aubrey and I both work at Landry’s Bar and Grill downtown. It’s close to campus, so it’s basically a college bar. Bartending wasn’t ever part of my plan, but when Aubrey brought up the idea of training me further, I jumped at the opportunity to get away from being the host.
“If a scout approaches you, what would you pick? Baseball or the hospital?” she asks, her back still facing me. “Also, red or yellow?”
“Um, red?” I answer, not fully sure what she’s asking. “And honestly, I don’t know. My dad would be devastated if I didn’t pick baseball. I think part of me would be, too. But I love physical therapy.”
She turns and hands me a red mug with white snowflakes on it. “Good choice.” She brings her yellow smiley face mug to her pink lips. “Well, you pick what you want to do. Not what anyone else tells you to do.”
“You do realize it’s the end of April, right?” I raise an eyebrow, taking a sip of the warm brown liquid and ignoring her last comment. Not exactly a conversation I want to have with her.
“You do realize I don’t care, right?” she mocks.
“Fair enough. So, do you work your normal shift today?” I ask, already knowing the answer is yes, but hoping small talk will help the time pass by faster. I don’t usually stick around after our nights together. We are more friends-with-benefits kind of people. At least I am. Except today, it seems she wants to prolong my stay. She’s likely just being friendly although I can’t help but wonder if she’s got ulterior motives.
I don’t do relationships. Not after what my ex did. Aubrey will not be an exception.
“Yeah, you work at four tonight, right?”
I nod. She doesn’t seem to have anything more to talk about either. We sit silently sipping our coffees for a few minutes before I take a large final swig. “Well, thank you for the coffee, but I really have to get going.” I move to put my mug in the sink before shifting toward the door.
As I’m slipping my shoes on, she saunters over to me and leans against the wall. “I’ll see you tonight then?” she asks.
“See you tonight.” I fake a salute before pulling the door open and heading towards the stairs. The click of her front door signals I’m alone, and I habitually shift into baseball mode.
***
“L adies!” Coach Charlie’s voice booms from home plate with his usual sarcastic greeting. “Good morning! I know you are all getting excited for the final game of the season. Reminder! Not that any of you need it, but winning Saturday’s game guarantees us a spot in the NCAA D1 regional tournament! I shouldn’t have to remind you that this is a big deal and in my ten years of coaching here, we have never not secured ourselves a spot. Don’t make this the year. Now, Captain , do you have anything you want to add?” he asks, accentuating my title.
I move to stand next to him. The thirty-one players before me watch carefully. “Don’t fuck this up,” I say as everyone cheers and runs to their respective positions on and off the field.
Coach Charlie rolls his eyes as he follows me to home plate. I take my spot behind our third baseman and my roommate, Logan, who is first up to bat, and raise my glove, signaling to Dante, who stands ready on the pitching mound, that I’m ready to play. Logan takes a few quick practice swings before letting the bat hover above his shoulder.
“Play ball!” Coach Charlie yells.
A few hand signals and a head nod from Dante later, the first pitch is thrown and lands perfectly in the pocket of my catcher’s mitt.
As the scrimmage continues, we slowly take the lead, winning by a landslide of 8-1.
Logan eyes me as I pass by. “What on Earth kind of throw was that first one?” Gray locker doors clang through the dimly lit locker room while the water pipes moan down the hall from too many shower heads running.
I shrug and follow it with a smirk. “Gotta be ready for anything.” I toss my uniform into my duffle bag before heading to the showers to clean up.
“That was a crazy pitch,” I hear Connor say to our starting pitcher, Dante, as I round the corner.
“Dallas gave me the signal and I went for it,” he responds as he and Connor wrap white towels around their waists.
“Well, it was a great pitch, because Logan missed terribly,” I chime in, turning on the warm water. “But maybe save all the good throws for the big game, eh Dante?”
“Woah, okay, harsh,” Logan says behind me as he chuckles and settles onto the bench.
Dante shakes his head and laughs before saying, “I can only save the good pitches if I practice first.” He sends me a pointed look with a grin. He waves a hand nonchalantly behind him before leaving me alone with only the sound of distant voices and the strong pounding of the water hitting the cold tile beneath my feet.
Aubrey’s question this morning rings in my head. I truly don’t know what I would choose if given the choice: baseball or physical therapy. I’m a good catcher. I know that for a fact. I’ve got scouts watching me from a couple of teams, but they want to see what happens with the championship and see how far we can get. Fair. On the other hand, I could continue with what I’m going to school for. I love the hospital where I’m doing my clinicals and took a liking to the pediatric unit. I surprised myself at that one, but those little one-year-olds got me.
Logan’s distant voice cuts in. “You coming? You’ve been in there for fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah, sorry,” I respond, quickly rinsing out the shampoo from my hair. I hadn’t realized I’d been standing under the water for so long. My fingers are starting to prune. I head back to get dressed and find Logan with his back pressed against the bench, legs straddling it. His already thin eyes thin some more as he squints at the phone hovering above his head.
I quickly dress into a clean work uniform and toss my bag over my shoulder, the sweat-soaked uniform inside wafting past my nose. I definitely need to do laundry this weekend. I drop Logan off at our apartment before heading to Landry’s to start my shift.
Parked cars cover the lot, spilling over onto the street. As I wander in through the crowds of people gathered in every nook and cranny of the bar, I slip past our bouncer, Greg, offering him a fist bump. I shuffle past the lines already gathering at the bar, then make my way into the back to clock in and put my things away. Greasy foods are already being prepared. Hordes of fries are being salted on the back counter. The dish station is already filling up. The owner, Bill, checks in with me, making sure I check in with Aubrey before getting to work.
Aubrey yells over the crowd to me, “You’ll be on the far end, Dylan in the middle, me on this end. Let me know if you need anything.”
“You got it, boss,” I yell, taking the orders from the bar manager, squeezing past Dylan, and taking my place at the end.
Shifting from lover to manager is a dynamic we’ve gotten used to. We prefer to keep it that way. At least, I do. After this morning, I’m starting to wonder if Aubrey feels otherwise.