Page 28 of Fair Play
“Will you go down to Venice Beach tomorrow after the game and skate with me?”
Chapter 10
Rome
I should say no,but I can’t.
There is no universe where I turn down such a heartfelt, obviously poignant, request.
“Of course,” I reply with a sincerity I don’t allow myself to express very often.
“I need to try,” she admits. “I used to love skating. I thought it was going to be my future, you know? Then my dreams died right along with my parents that night.” She stares off into the distance, and there’s no doubt she’s a million miles away.
I hate seeing the pain in her eyes.
“If you were skating at that level, even after an injury, it’s going to come back,” I say, reaching across the table and taking both of her hands in mine. I don’t like the haunted expression that tells me she’s going to dark places in the recesses of her mind. I need to bring her back here. To me. Where it’s safe. Where I can try to make her laugh and see the sparkle in her eyes.
“I don’t know,” she whispers. But now that she’s looking at me, I see the grit coming back. The girl who knees guys in the balls and doesn’t take shit from her brother, no matter how much she loves him.
That’s the kind of girl I need. Someone who won’t take shit from me but will still love me when I fuck up.
I didn’t get that from either of my wives.
“I don’t own roller skates,” I say, squeezing her hands.
“I don’t either, but we can rent them down there. I know right where the place is.”
“Perfect.”
Wade arrives with our food then, and the lost look is gone, replaced by a sigh of delight when she takes her first bite.
“Oh, this is good,” she breathes.
“If you start working here,” I say, “Bodi and I can probably get the team to start hanging out here, and your tips will go up exponentially.”
She grins. “Now that’s some serious incentive.”
“It’ll be good for Nita too. Not that she needs any help getting customers.”
“The line is even longer than when we arrived,” she says, staring out toward the entrance. “If I can work Friday and Saturday nights, I’ll potentially be making more money in a weekend than I make all month at the grocery store.”
It’s good for her to think about all the positives, so I nod encouragingly. “You’re going to do great. I know you are.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The jukebox starts playing “Rock Around the Clock” by Bill Haley and the Comets and the whole place seems to start singing along. It’s a little cringe-worthy but the joy emanating from Billie as she sings chips away at my embarrassment until I’m right there with her, holding one of her hands by the time the song ends.
Yeah, I’ve got it bad.
And there’s no backing out at this point.
I know the trouble that’s coming—I’ve been in this position dozens of times before—but never with someone who makes me so happy. Or who provides contentment I’m not used to. She’s beautiful and genuine and fun. From the piercing in her eyebrow to the curve of her ass, I’m fascinated by everything about her and want to know more. Hell, I want to know everything.
Dating has always been about sex.
But not tonight. Not with Billie.
I want to hear her laugh and sing decades-old songs with her.
