Page 8 of Lust
She stepped aside and muttered, “Yeah, sure.”
It took a full two minutes after Briggs had left before she regained her senses.
Joey Luciano, her friend since middle school, had flat out asked that she not be told about his return to Cardinal City. And if he’d moved back into his old place, then it might be for good. Had he transferred out of Violent Crimes? Hell, had he left the FBI?
Aw, fuck no.
Screw Joey. He couldn’t just leave Cardinal City without a word, then come back and ignore her. They had a history. And if she’d done something wrong, she needed to know about it. Enough bad shit had happened today, she didn’t need more.
It was time she had a quiet word to Joey, and she knew the exact thing to bring with her. Crossing to her desk, she opened the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet and fished around until her fingers landed on a velvety rough surface.Bingo.
She pulled out an old baseball covered in childish signatures, all either Liza’s or Joey’s. She rotated the ball in her hand, smiling. Over the years, the signatures had become less legible with their age. The ink bled into the leather. All the signatures had a line through them, except the latest: L.Lazarus, clear and unimpeded.
The first wobbly signature was made when she was twelve. She still remembered seeing the white ball rolling across the green grass and then hitting her sandal covered toes as she sat on the batters’ bench. The sun had been warm, and the rough wood had given her splinters where her shorts failed to protect. She’d been relegated to the “cheer squad” by her jerk-face brothers. They’d kept saying it would be her turn soon, but failed to call her up to bat. That’s when a young Joey Luciano had waved at her from across the field.
“Hey!” he’d said. “Over here.”
Liza picked up the ball and turned it in her hands, testing the weight. She looked at it with such longing. She didn’t want to be sitting on the bench. She wanted to be out there, playing the game with her brothers. All of them were playing, even baby Evan who was only eight. If Sloan hadn’t stayed home with Mama to cook pizza, Liza would have another girl on her side to stand up to her brothers.
Especially that jerk-face Parker. He was such a know-it-all.
Liza stood and threw the ball back to the tall, lanky boy. It sailed straight through the air and landed in his glove with a resounding smack. He’d dropped the ball almost immediately, removed his hand from the glove, and shook it out like it hurt. When his eyes had met Liza’s, they’d widened.
She grinned. She liked surprising boys.
The scowl from Parker at the home plate made her sit with a pout.
It wasn’t fair.
But she didn’t want to cause trouble. Mama had lectured them about trying to appear normal in front of the locals. If anyone found out she was stronger than most boys, she’d get in trouble. So she stared at the ground.
The white ball rolled and hit her toes again.
This time, the boy came trotting over. They both reached for the ball at the same time and knocked heads. She got the ball first and handed it to him.
He grinned. He had a nice smile and a dimple on his chin.
“How come you don’t play?” he asked, tossing and catching the ball like he was clever.
“Um. My brothers won’t let me join their team.”
“Oh. Well, you can join mine if you like.” He puffed his chest out. “I’m the captain.”
She glanced over at her family. All of them were either on the diamond in the coach’s box, at the home plate, or standing behind a chain-link fence, waiting for the pitch.
“You got a good arm,” the boy continued.
“I know,” she replied.
His lips curved in a way that captured Liza’s attention, and she wasn’t sure why.
“My name’s Joey. What’s yours?”
“Liza.”
Someone shouted from the diamond. “We gonna play, or what?”
“Sorry,” Liza murmured. “That’s my stupid brother, Wyatt. He gets a bit angry.”
