Page 6 of Perfect Playbook

We’re nearing the hall where the Grishams’ reception will be. Even though I’ve briefly run into Shay many times over the years since college, we never really talked much. Everydayhow is the weatherkind of conversation was about as deep as it’s gotten. Yet being from the same small town, I somehow knew most of her business, which means she knows most of mine.

That same sick bile I’ve tasted more than once over the years creeps up when I think again of what transpired with her son’s dad. Anytime I’ve run into Shay in the Canyon and we’re making conversation I want to ask more. What kind of man would do that to her? Are they on good terms or complete strangers? Has she ever seen anyone since? I know some of her business but I never know enough to truly satiate my appetite.

She opens the door of the ballroom for me since my hands are full. We enter an enormous hall where staff sets up tables and chairs for the party in a few hours. When I set down the cake, I let out a stale breath. It’s hard to believe that I have men with sticks and blades attacking me for a living and carrying a cake for Shay Mendez is what gets me worked up.

I rub my hands together. “See?” I point to the cake. “Told you you could trust me.”

She tilts her head, and the way her hair drips down hershoulder is a sight to die for. She grew it out after we dated. I never got a chance to run my fingers through it.

“Thanks for helping. Not gonna lie, it was a close call out there.” She rolls her lips.

I mirror her. It’s time to get back in that check-in line, but I really don’t want to. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

She shrugs. “No. All good.”

Neither of us leave. It occurs to me it’s the first time we’ve been alone together since she broke up with me. It’s been sixteen years. Not that I’m counting.

“Well,” she smooths hair behind her ears, “I better get this all set up and get ready. See you at the reception?”

“Yeah. See you later.” I half turn to leave but can’t help myself. There’s no harm in asking. “Did you… do you have a plus-one?”

She laughs. “Yeah, right.” Her sarcasm melts away, replaced by something harder to read. She runs a finger along the box’s edge. “What about you?”

That box sure is interesting.

Her sarcasm returns. “I suppose they had to offer you a plus-two or three?” She glances up from under her eyelashes, and the corner of her mouth dips in with a reluctant smile.

I take a step closer. Her sweet perfume encircles me. Her pink lips shine with alluring gloss.

I tap her nose. “I came for the cake.”

Chapter Three

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO

I lieon my dorm room floor with the poster for the Equal Pay march tomorrow. I color in the black Sharpie outline, slowly brushing the felt tip up and down over the same ever-wetter, ever-darkening orange spot. I’m distracted. I check my alarm clock. Logan is late, but then again, he always is.

How on earth did I get to the point where I can’t think about anything but that man? It’s worked almost as if by magic, like I’m under some spell that binds my common sense. Logan completely disarmed methat night, and we took drinks to the bench where our friendship began. We wandered down with a beer for him, a wine cooler for me, and he kissed me. I let him. When his lips touched mine, everything inside me exploded and blazed. I came alive as if I never even knew what it was like to live before.

I shouldn’t have done it without knowing where we stand, but life isn’t always linear. Lust rages inside me every time Logan is near. I get why people don’t wait for marriage much these days.

I’m falling hard. Occasionally, since being with Logan I wish I wasn’t such a lone wolf, and it makes me miss my mother even more, having this thing, no matter what it is, with Logan. She’d be asking about Logan every day if she knew I was with him. Or friends with him. Or whatever this is. She’d be curious, and though I’d probably never confess just how far I’ve fallen, at least I’d be able to explore some of these feelings. I’ve always been introverted and cautious. Without her support, I’m downright terrified of how much a man like Logan could hurt me.

But I take the risk because no matter what happens, I guess it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

Somehow this quote makes me think of my mom all over again.

I turn my head slightly to catch sight of a small care package under my bed, the one my mom made for me before she died. I slide it out and lean against the side of my bed and place it on my lap. I haven’t looked at it since I met Logan, even though for the first weeks of her passing it was in my hands every day. My mom wrapped it with heavyweight, beautiful paper in pink, and she wrote in her most elegant script: Shaylita.

I’ve seen the contents many times before, they still seema surprise, and I imagine her fingertips are still warm on the items—recipes she previously guarded, including herabuela’ssecretcaldoingredients on a yellowing note card, and photos of me and her throughout the years are scattered inside. I already took out the ruby ring she left in there and gave it to my dad for safekeeping, but the gold rosary I still risk leaving under my bed. I couldn’t store it back in Starlight Canyon, it somehow feels like her protection over me.

In addition to these items is a CD with a recording of her singing ‘Cielito Lindo.’ I never noticed she sang off-key until she made this recording, but I treasure it even more for it being so raw. You never realize a person’s voice is so unique to them until it’s gone. If I ever am blessed with children, I will make sure to sing them songs.

I come across the last item I brought with me here to college. Her letter. I’m sure she wrote one to every one of us children. I unfold the weighty, official embossed stationery and smooth it in my fingers, trying to feel remnants of her spirit. We don’t write notes to each other nearly enough these days.

Mi cielito,

I want you to remember every time you read this I am looking down on you. I made sure to say my prayers and have Jesus in my heart. So I promise I am here, in the sky, raining love down on my one and only daughter every single day. I am proud of the person you’ve become. I loved you from the moment Ifirst laid my gaze on your ebony eyes and I will think of them in Heaven.

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