Page 22 of Big Balls
I stare at her for an entire minute. “I need to go down? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
Unfortunately, instead of answering me, she bursts into a series of cackles that are far too loud for the hospital. My face heats as I feel the weight of every single person’s gaze settle squarely on me and this naughty grandma at the information desk.
My frown deepens as I’m trying to figure out why this woman at the information desk won’t simply tell me where to find my kid, and then I see my best friend and poker buddy, Jackson Schmidt, making his way down a hallway toward us, tucking his phone into his back pocket.
“Jackson,” I call out to him, relieved to see a familiar face.
His eyes land on me then slide to the little old lady at the information desk. He pales and rushes toward us, looking more panicked than I’ve ever seen him before.
“Aunt Opal,” he hisses in a theatrical stage whisper, “why are you sitting at the information desk?”
She reaches over and pats Jackson on the hand. “You’re such a sweet boy, Jacky. I was just helping Mister Tall, Mean, and Stupidly Hot here find his way to true happiness.”
I stare from Jackson to Aunt Opal and then back to Jackson. “All she told me was that I needed togo down.”
Jackson scrubs a hand through his scruff of hair. “Oh my God.”
“Oh yes,” she purrs, tracing a long red fingernail across her collarbone. Then she licks her lips.
He shakes his head then turns to me, gripping my shoulders with both of his hands. “Look at me, Ethan. Katy is sleeping upstairs. She’s doing fine. We’ve got this.”
At the sincerity in his voice and eyes, an entire truckload of tension drains out of me. I feel the crushing grip of fear loosen in my chest, and I take a deep breath for the first time in hours. “I just need to see her, okay? I need to be next to my little girl and make sure she’s really okay.”
I turn my attention back to the elderly woman at the desk, who’s watching me talk to Jackson without any seeming interest in giving me any more directions. “I can’t believe this.” I gesture toward her in frustration. “It’s like she doesn’t even work here or something.”
Jackson sighs from the bottoms of his shiny shoes and looks at me with an apology already written all over his face. “Ethan Alexander, meet my dear Aunt Opal. She’s officially the dirtiest little old lady in the entire state of Indiana, and she definitely doesn’t work here. Aunt Opal, this is Ethan Alexander. He’s one of my very best friends, and his little girl is fast asleep upstairs with an entire posse of vicious uncles circled around her bed, myself included.”
Oh, that’s right. He warned me that his mischievous Aunt Opal was coming for a visit. I’m pretty sure he used the words “fucking menace” and “on the run from the town cops,” but he couldn’t have meant this little old lady. She’s definitely a character, but even I can tell she’s essentially harmless.
And hearing that my boys have all gathered around my little sleeping Katy, all the remaining tension leaves my body immediately. I finally relax and feel my lips sliding into a smile. I knew my friends would take care of her. She’s safe on their watch.
That particular bit of good news then frees me up to turn on the Southern charm with naughty Aunt Opal.
I hold out my hand to take Aunt Opal’s, then flip her little one over and plant a kiss on the back of her hand, the way a Southern gentleman is supposed to. “Charmed, madam.”
Aunt Opal turns away shyly then glances back to me, where I have finally released her teeny-tiny little bird hand. “Why Mr. Alexander, you’re so very good with your hands.”
I flash her my press smile, the one that got me several endorsement deals with national brand merchandise. “Well, Miss Opal, I do have the fastest hands in the entire football league.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Jackson rolls his eyes. “Not this again.”
Aunt Opal feeds off my friend’s disdain like it’s delicious ice cream. “Well I’m not sure how I’m supposed to believe you, Mr. Alexander.” She tucks her subversive cross stitch into her huge, pink, furry handbag. “Unless you’ve got some moves to go with that mouth.”
My smile widens, turning predatory. I haven’t had this much fun in weeks. Months, possibly. “My skills are best when viewed up close, so come on over here, darlin’.”
She rises from the swivel chair behind the information desk, and walks carefully over to me. “Here I am, Mister All Talk and No Action.”
I nod toward her giant handbag. “Do you have a deck of cards in there?”
Aunt Opal lets out a distinctly unladylike snort. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Do I look like an amateur to you?”
Jackson meets my gaze, eyes wide, and shakes his head.
“Here.” I reach out and wait until she retrieves a package of playing cards from her cavernous handbag and puts them in my hand. I open the little box and hand the cards over to her.
“Pick one.”
Her eyes narrow. “This magic trick sucks. You’re actually watching while I pick a card.”
