Page 77 of Wild Hit
As I begin to loosen them, Audrey takes it as her cue to begin slipping away. Everything I’m made of rejects that concept, but I let her. The lucid part of me unfortunately prevails.
Her hands stay on my chest as she takes a look around. A curtain of her hair obscures her face from my eyes, and I’ll stay forever curious about the expression she’s making.
“He’s really gone,” she says in a sigh, and it takes me far too long to clock why those words matter. After a step back, keeping her head down, she adds, “Be right back, okay?” With that, she turns around and disappears into the women’s restroom.
I backtrack until I slam against the wall behind me, and my entire frame slackens. I run a hand down my face until it stops at my mouth. A groan escapes from my throat.
I’m never gonna forget that kiss, am I?
Now I mess up my hair, waxed as it was. I’m gonna have to get real acquainted with being frustrated with want for this woman.
Light steps echo nearby, and I hide my hands in my pockets like they’re guilty of a crime—which I guess they are, it’s a crime for me to be starving for more of her.
Audrey returns with two tissue bundles in her hands. “Let me?” she asks, like I would ever say no to her. Reaching up, she starts wiping my mouth with the damp bundle. All I can do is blink like an owl. “I, uh, smeared lipstick all over you.”
“Huh,” is all I manage to vocalize.
Her startlingly green eyes are focused only on the task, face drawn into determined lines that give me nothing about what she’s thinking or feeling, and I know for a fact that I’m going to overthink myself to death about this later tonight when I’m trying to sleep. I hope she doesn’t. I hope she sleeps sound and safe.
“There.” She nods, balling up the tissues. Our eyes meet for all of one second until she turns away to glance at the corner. “The coast is clear, shall we bounce?”
I bob my head in all directions. Luckily she takes it as a yes, and I follow her around the edges of the party on our way out. The noise of scattered conversations, laughter, glasses clinking, and dissonant music assault my senses, bringing me back to a very rude reality. I manage to tear my eyes away from the patchof skin at Audrey’s back that her hair lets me glimpse at, and take in our surroundings.
I spot Audrey’s father watching us like a hawk from across the room, with the same kind of hawk-like precision back from me. He’s surrounded by other old men—one I even recognize from the politics section of the news. Not pictured among them is the asshat that harassed Audrey just minutes ago.
He’s nowhere to be found, yet I know just as I know that my full name is Miguel Jose Machado Jimenez that tonight won’t be the last we see of that piece of shit.
We emerge from the crowd uninterrupted, and with Audrey leading the charge she’s the one who reaches the elevators first and presses the button. I hang back, doing my best to keep my eyes forward so they don’t lower back down to her legs.
Nope, heaven forgive me but my eyes stray. Her legs look soft enough to make my hands tingle.
The elevator dings. A few people come out once the doors open, and one of the hotel employees remains inside as Audrey and I step in. Polite greetings are exchanged, and that would be it if not because the cleaning lady does a double take at me. Something like an eureka flashes on her face, then she peeks at Audrey, and back to the front.
Audrey nudges me. I return a little shrug and shake my head. I can’t presume that this lady really knows who I am. Unlike the prick who traded from the Wild to the Riders to become the team’s flagship pitcher, I don’t go around offering autographs before they’re requested to stroke my ego. Somehow Audrey seems to understand because she nods, and that’s that.
“Umm, I’m sorry to bother but…” We both turn to the other lady. She’s wringing her hands. “Are you Miguel Machado? My husband is a big fan but I don’t have anything on me to get your autograph.”
Audrey flashes me a smirk before addressing the lady. “That’s not a problem, could I take a picture of you two instead?”
The woman’s face lights up for a second. “Oh, but I shouldn’t impose, I’m so sorry?—”
“It’s okay, carpet the diem!” Audrey exclaims like my daughter once did.
At the lobby, we find a clear background for Audrey to take a picture of the cleaning lady and I. I do my best to smile in a happy way, even though my head is swimming.
Do I have a chance with Audrey? Or is it going to be super creepy to come out and sayhey, I said we were friends but actually I want more?
In contrast, she’s unbothered as she grabs my by the crook of my arm and bids our combined farewell to the nice elevator lady. We walk together in awkward silence again, stopping at the valet to request our car. The air outside is hot and humid, fat drops falling all around. The sky rumbles with a threat, setting up the perfect stage for me to have an existential crisis when I get home. I just have to keep it together until then.
The sound of the Maserati’s engine alerts me. I blink awake and notice that the rain is starting to pick up. Neither of us brought an umbrella, so my jacket will have to do. Audrey watches me remove it with clear confusion on her face, but then the car is in front of us and I hold the suit jacket over her.
“Shall we?” I ask.
“Ah, yes.”
We shuffle toward the passenger door off tune, bumping into each other a couple of times. I prompt her to hold the jacket as I open the door for her, cold drops slamming on my head and the back of my neck, helping to cool down the raging volcano heat of my skin. When she tries to offer the jacket in return, I lay it across her lap and close the door.
I take just a second to look up and close my eyes against the rain. By the time I get into the small enclosure of this sports car, I better be acting like my normal damn self, or else.
