Page 6 of Someone Just Like You

George laughed. “You should take your show on the road.”

I sighed. “We haven’t nailed down the guest list yet.” It wasn’t like me to leave such an important question unanswered, but my focus was off…probably a result of Nicole pushing this whole partnership with Jude.

“That’s fine. We might be able to make a hundred work as well. The party we hosted recently for Jason and Jeremy Giambi came pretty close.” George darted his glance between us. “They’re former major league baseball players.”

Jude laughed. “Trust me. I know who they are. I played first base partially because of Jason.”

“You’re a baseball player?” George asked.

“Not anymore.” Jude drummed his fingers against the table to the beat of “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da.”

George waited, seemingly expecting Jude to elaborate, while I did a mental count of the guest list to counter the awkwardness of the conversation. Jude had been on his way to a full baseball scholarship until he tore his ACL his senior year in high school. Afterward he’d needed surgery and knee reconstruction as well as physical therapy. He lost his scholarship, and his athletic career was over before it got started.

“Freak bike accident back in high school.” Jude gave me a quick look before turning back to George.

My breath hitched. What was thelookfor? Did he think I’d take advantage of the topic of conversation to say something mean about the end of his would-be baseball career? Or was it something else?

“Sorry,” George said, fiddling with the iPad in his hand.

Jude waved him off. “Don’t be. It’s not like I was as good as Jason anyway.”

My head jutted back. What was with the humble pie? Jude was very good…great, in fact. Even I, his number negative fan, could concede that much.

“You and the rest of the general population,” George said with a chuckle.

Conversation returned to the party, and Jude continued to ask questions at random, as if my list didn’t exist, but I was too distracted to care. His tone when talking about baseball had been as dry as a California forest, but I wasn’t convinced. Jude had lived and breathed baseball. Now he wore a bartender uniform instead of Yankee pinstripes.

Either his impassiveness at the death of his athletic career was an act or he’d truly put baseball behind him. Maybe he was even happy as a bartender. Despite our contentious relationship, I prayed for the latter.

“These are pictures of other events we’ve held here.” George placed his tablet faceup, equidistant between Jude and me.

“After you,” Jude said.

As my hands reached for the device, Jude smiled and grabbed it right out from under me.

I scowled. He was so childish.

“Kidding,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “Take it.”

I huffed then reached for it, only for him to pull it back at the last second…again.

I dropped my arms to my sides. “I’m out. You win, Rude.”

“Quitter.”

My nostrils flared.Oh, no, he didn’t.

The air grew thick. Voices in the background were fuzzy.

We locked eyes.

It was on.

My hand touched the device first, but Jude’s clamped on top of mine like a claw. I slid the iPad closer to my side, but Jude was too fast for me and reversed my progress. We were back to center. “Ladies first,” I grunted, trying to free my hand while maintaining my grip on the tablet.

“Show me a lady and I’ll let her go first.” He tightened his hold.

“Give it to—”

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