Chapter 4 #2
“This is karaoke night,” he tells me, pointing to the corner. “See that woman over there? She organized this whole thing a few months ago, so we made it a weekly thing here.”
Turning toward where he points, I spot her.
“Nan,” I say before turning back to face the bartender.
He raises an eyebrow. “You know her?”
“She’s the one who gave me the keys to my new place,” I say.
“Ahh.” The man grins.
With a lopsided grin, I avert my gaze to my hands on the counter, adjusting my baseball cap to ensure I stay as hidden as possible.
“Guess I should introduce myself then, huh?” He extends his hand across the table. “I’m Griffin.”
“Dallas,” I say, returning his handshake.
“Oh my god,” another bartender says. I glance up and see his hand covering his face.
“Don’t say it,” I warn, feeling uneasy at the sudden attention. I’m used to being recognized, but don’t want to feel it here.
Griffin looks at us, very confused. “What am I missing?”
The guy leans in, staring at me, but whispers behind his hand. Not quietly, either. “That’s the head coach for the San Francisco Stags Major League Baseball team.”
“Was,” I cut in, keeping my voice low. “Was the coach.”
Clark kept things pretty tight-lipped when it came to the media.
There was no official announcement of me leaving and someone replacing me for the off season.
He wanted to leave it in case I decided to come back and keep my position.
I don’t know why I just told him I was the coach.
I think it was the wrong thing to say, because I still am. However, I’m not coaching right now.
“Nooo.” The guy winces.
“Since when are you a baseball fan?” Griffin asks him.
“I root for the underdogs.” He shrugs. “And the Stags were…” He pauses before leaning in to whisper to the man again. “They suck.”
There’s a ping in my chest because everything falls back on me. Do they suck because of how I’ve coached them the last four years? Probably.
I nod in response to that, not knowing what else to say.
“So what brings you to Bluestone Lakes?” Griffin asks.
“Your website is very welcoming.”
The one off to the side barks out a laugh, and Griffin laughs under his breath.
“Ah, Dallas,” Nan says before I can respond to anyone, swinging an arm around my shoulder. “You found the best bar in town. Have you settled in nicely?”
“Dallas?” the woman beside her practically shouts, and I cringe at how loud she’s saying my name. “You’re…you’re the head coach for the Staghorns. I’m from San Francisco, too. What brings you all the way out here?”
“Hell if I know,” I answer, not wanting to explain it to these people who clearly know who I am. I knew this was a bad idea. Within minutes of being here, I’ve been recognized twice. And what the hell are the chances of someone from San Francisco being here, too?
I think deep down, I just didn’t want anyone here to know who I am.
I wanted time with my daughter without people finding out who I am. It would only bring attention to the media if word got out outside of Bluestone Lakes.
I’m about to shrug out of Nan’s hold on my shoulders and find a way to leave discreetly when a glass of amber liquid slides in front of me. “On the house.”
I offer a quick nod. “Thank you.”
“You got it,” Griffin says. “And hey, for what it’s worth… Welcome to Bluestone Lakes.”
Nan glances down at me, giving my shoulder a light squeeze. “You’re gonna like it here,” she whispers before I watch her leave to tend to the karaoke machine.
“So, you do this every weekend?” I ask Griffin.
He shakes his head. “Usually it’s during the week, but it’s my sister’s birthday and she begged me to have it tonight, too.”
“Is this your bar?”
He nods. “I also would like to put it out there that I don’t know a single thing about baseball. No offense.”
I laugh. “None taken. It’s honestly kind of a relief.”
He opens his mouth to say more, but the other bartender slides up beside him, wiping his hands with a dish rag before extending his hand over the bar.
“I’m Tucker, by the way. Big fan. Huge fan.
I love the sport. And you. Yeah, I love you,” he rattles off in rapid succession before turning to look at Griffin with a face lit up brighter than a Christmas tree, while he bounces where he stands. “Oh my god, it’s Dallas Westbrook.”
“Tucker,” Griffin warns. “You sound like a nutcase right now.”
“How is that different from any other time?” the female who said she was from the city cuts in. “I’m Blair, by the way. You’ll get used to Tucker. Don’t worry.”
“Wait.” I pause, and stare at how familiar she looks now that she’s told me her first name. “Are you Blair…Andrews? Like, formerly married to ex-mayor Theodore?”
She points a finger at my face with a warning.
The same way I did earlier. “Don’t say it.
” She softens her features. “I live here now. Moved on a whim to get out of the city after he cheated on me, which I’m sure you heard about…
” She pauses, and I nod. “I needed to get away from that life. Now I’m with this brute. ” She gestures toward Griffin.
“I’m not a brute. Not anymore, at least.”
I laugh at the exchange taking place. These people seem like good, nice people. I can tell Tucker is an interesting character, but he also seems fun.
“I’m sorry for my abruptly rude response before when you asked me what I was doing here,” I say to Blair. “It took me off guard that people sixteen hours away, in a small town, recognized me.”
Blair waves me off. “Please. No need to be sorry, I understand. When I first moved here, I didn’t want anyone to recognize me either because I didn’t want to be known as the woman who was cheated on by the mayor.”
“That, I understand.”
“You’re famous,” Tucker cuts in. “Of course, people will recognize you.”
“Tucker has a point.” Blair laughs. “Where did you move to?”
Tucker leans on the bar, resting his chin on his knuckles. “Yeah, where did you move to?”
Blair swats his arm with the back of her hand. “Cut it out, stalker.”
“I didn’t move here.” I shake my head. “Well, I have, but it’s only temporary.” She tilts her head to the side in confusion, and I release a sigh. “I’m just here for a little while to get my head on straight outside of the city.”
Griffin nods repeatedly as if he likes what he’s hearing. “This is the best place for that.”
“Nan got me set up on Poplar Street. Nice place. There aren’t very many people around, though.”
“You’re going to find that anywhere you go here.” Blair laughs.
“My other sister actually lives on that street,” Griffin adds. “So I know you have some good neighbors. She keeps to herself and stays focused on her job, so you probably haven’t seen her around yet.”
I look at Griffin and can’t help but wonder who his sister is.
The longer I stare, the more his features start to resemble a certain someone I can’t get out of my head.
But it can’t be. She has this strawberry blonde hair that’s permanently ingrained in my head, while he has a darker brown color.
Maybe it’s this single glass of whiskey he offered me that’s already getting to me.
Or perhaps, it’s me conjuring her up in my thoughts again because I can’t stop thinking about the woman I met for less than ten minutes.
The music cuts out with a piercing screech, and we all snap our heads to Nan. “Sorry, y’all. Promise I ain’t trying to blow this place up,” she shouts before getting the cord right, and music starts bumping through the speakers again.
“Sometimes I think she is,” Griffin mutters, but doesn’t bat an eye. Clearly, he’s used to her antics.
“Unfortunately, they don’t have baseball here.” Blair shrugs. Being from San Francisco, she probably knows how big of a deal it was for me from all the media. “At least I don’t think so.”
Griffin shakes his head. “No, we don’t have anything. No big leagues. No little leagues. I know the kids like to play out at the barnyard, though.” He shrugs.
“So I’ve heard. Nan was telling me when I got into town, and I kind of, sort of, agreed to coach them.”
“You, what?” Blair laughs. “You do know coaching kids is wildly different from coaching adults?”
“Wait, can I play?” Tucker raises his hand like he’s in a classroom. “Oh, oh, oh. No, I can help you coach if you want. I’m great with kids.”
“That’s because you are a kid,” Griffin deadpans.
“Twenty-three, Griffin. That’s an adult, last I checked.”
“Semantics.”
“Oh my god.” Tucker beams. “We should start an adult league, too. Pick a night during the week and get together. All the guys, hell, even the girls can play. You know, a fun night out. But you gotta go easy on us,” he says, pointing a finger in my direction.
“Half of us don’t know how to swing a bat. ” He nudges Griffin at his side.
Griffin grumbles something under his breath and rolls his eyes.
“We should do it,” Blair joins Tucker in his excitement. “I bet Lily would be down, too.”
“Dallas.” Tucker leans in close, looking left and right before locking eyes with me as if he has a really big, important secret to share with me. “If you had one shot. One opportunity. To seize everything—”
“Oh, Christ.” Griffin rolls his eyes. “Let the poor guy breathe for five minutes before shoving baseball games down his throat. He just told us he came here for a break.”
If I didn’t like Griffin before, I do now.
“Thank you.” I raise my glass to him. “But it’s really no problem. Baseball has been part of my life since I first learned how to walk. I sort of like the idea of getting together and playing with you guys if it’s something you want to do.”
Tucker fist pumps the air. “Yes.”
A bell over the door chimes, and Griffin turns to glare at Tucker. If looks could kill, he’s stabbing Tucker in the eyes. “I swear you plug that shit back in every night just to piss me off.”
Tucker chuckles with his hand over his mouth.