Page 56 of Unleashed

I pitch the ball to her, and she catches it but shoves up the bill of her hat. I ask, “What about the Jessup thing? You were married?”

“Yes. It wasn’t my idea.”

“Say what?” I pause mid-pitch.

She purses her lips as if deciding whether I’m worth her time. “It was a business arrangement. If I married the son of one of my father’s business allies, they would merge their companies and pass it on to our first-born son.”

Flabbergasted, I say, “This ain’t the Middle Ages.”

“No, but my family is very...old-fashioned.”

Shaking my head, I glance at the others practicing, but most are in the outfield and not paying attention. Since Rhonda is spilling her tea by the gallons, I ask, “They only wanted a grandson?”

“Yes.”

“God. What if you had a girl?”

“Keep birthing them until a boy.”

“But you don’t have any kids, right?”

“I don’t.”

“How’d you get out of it?”

“He filed for divorce and married my younger sister. I have two nephews and another on the way.”

Still holding the softball, I drop it and my jaw. “Your ex is now your brother-in-law?”

She shrugs. “I don’t see any of them now. I read about them online. Someday, I’ll change my last name and dump them once and for all.” I think of helping Simone unload hers. If I offered the same to Rhonda, I’d feel like a stud service.

“What misogynistic assholes. You don’t need them, Ronnie.”

“I don’t.” She holds her head high despite her hat slipping down her forehead.

Leaving the softball on the ground, I walk over to her. “Your hat needs to be fixed, or you’ll get nailed in the face.”

Rhonda is stiff as a board as I move behind her to adjust the cheap plastic. Her disheveled hair stuffed into her hat smells like flowers. My throat constricts as I think about what this woman has been through. How in the fuck could Rhonda’s family do that to her?

I drop my hands, and my fingertips graze her neck. I hear her suck in a breath as I lose mine.

Rhonda whispers, “Thanks, Greg.”

“For what?” I whisper back, not knowing why, since she was okay just a minute ago, baring her soul and at risk for anyone hearing her.

She clears her throat, but her voice is still hoarse. “For fixing my hat.”

I laugh. “Oh. Sure. Anytime.” Still, I can’t help but touch her again to see if what I felt was a one-off thing. So, I lift a section of loose hair, escaping her hat, and shift it, dragging my fingers more deliberately this time. I bite my lip and freeze as Rhonda hums.

Looking up, I see Val staring at us, and I’m unsure what she thinks is happening. Even I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

Scrunching his face and tilting his bulbous head, Vaughn looks at me with what I guess is confusion. Otherwise, he looks constipated. What infraction am I committing against humanity now? Is it because I’m touching Rhonda? It’s not like we’re fucking on home plate. Goddamn. Take a Xanax.

Still, the zing that hit me in the crotch was swift and out of nowhere.

Tesco yells for the first string to take our positions or some shit like that. Rhonda whispers, “Greg?”

“Rodwell! Quit flirting! You and Rhonda need to get in here to bat!” Christ Almighty, I’m close to murdering a mall cop.

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