Page 13 of Second Swing
“I’m not mad at these options, but can we be done now?” Exhaustion bleeds through my voice, and it matches the pinched expression as my cousin rolls her eyes.
“Okay okay, but at least you look good now.”
“Now?”Pressing my hand to my heart, I jest, “I’m wounded! Ya boy has always looked good.” I lick my thumb and forefinger and spread them across my brows. This earns me a deep belly laugh.
“Come on, you fool. I still want to check out the record store.” When we check out, we head right next door to the small mom-and-pop shop. There’s a Biggie album that has been sold out for years, but Sel and I hold out hope that maybe one of us will find it.
Flipping through the record sleeves, Sel stands across from me on the other side of the aisle. I lean in her direction, my voice low, and say, “I can’t believe this place is still here.”
“Right! It’s a gem. I hope it never closes,” she says, and I nod in agreement and flip through a few more. “This might not be Biggie, but you can never go wrong with Kem or Sade.”
“Let me see.” She holds up both records and purses her lips.
Selene tucks the records under her arm and gives me a soft smile. “This is what makes me happy.”
“Your next repeat song?” I chuckle, trying to hold it in as she swats at me. She and I both know once she finds a song she loves, it goes on repeat for the next four months.
She rolls her eyes but says in an even, serious tone, “No. You being back home. So we can pretend to find this damn Biggie vinyl. I missed you, cousin.”
I nod my head toward the cashier. “I missed you too, Sel. I’m glad to be back.”
“Let’s get back to the house before we have to head back out,” she says, getting us back on track and further away from a nap.
The glow of the green neon sign draws my eyes up to the name of the bar, Shaken Tropes. The sign hangs above a door of one of the older buildings in town. When I was little this area was where all the family businesses thrived, and though most of these are new businesses, I’m glad to see the entire neighborhood has been revitalized rather than gentrified like so many around the country.
Grabbing the door, I pull and hold it open for Selly to walk in ahead of me. I scan the dimly lit area, taking note of the small table where readers enjoy their current reads. Small table lamps give the room a moody glow, allowing each table a cozy feel for those who may want a bit more lightwhile they delve into their books. It’s a great idea, and honestly, I feel drawn in—wanting to find a booth to enjoy these matchmaking book services Selene told me about over coffee.
“This is the place I was telling you about. The vibes are immaculate. Don’t you think so?” Selene asks, but I’m too consumed with taking everything in to bother answering her.
I’m not sure what the bar was before but the layout is incredible. They have spaces for small tables with plush chairs for readers and a dance floor surrounded by bookshelves, kind of like a library. My gaze follows the line of bookcases deeper toward the back, where I assume the office area is. I find myself drawn back to the bar, watching the bartender mix up something blue.
“And all the drinks match the themes found within the romance books. It is the cutest thing. I met one of the owners earlier, who, by the way, is stunning. She is definitely your type.”
“Oh, and what is my type, hm?” I hum, narrowing my eyes. “I don’t need you as a wingwomanthatbad, Sel.”
“You say that now. Let’s grab a booth so we can grab a few bites to eat and then get your old ass on the dance floor.” She snickers.
“Hey! You’re almost three years older than me.” Bumping her with my shoulder, she finally sits. As I am about to take my own seat, I pat my pockets and realize I must have left my wallet in the car. Without giving her a chance to say she will cover the bill, I turn on my heel. “I’ll be right back. Forgot my wallet in the car.”
I make it through the crowd easily, still taking in my surroundings. A joyous laugh cuts through the music, and my head snaps in the direction it came from. I would know that laugh anywhere. Without much thought my body turns in the direction of the sound which is all toofamiliar. It may have been several years since I heard it, but I know it all the same.
The woman with the infectious laugh is sexy as fuck, and her hands move quickly as she talks with customers. Her thick thighs meet a round, plump ass and a narrow waist. Her hair stops an inch or so above her shoulders and is colored in a vibrant magenta. But when my eyes follow the line toward her face, she’s turned away from me.
I want to take a moment to consider if it’s really her or not, but I can’t stop myself as I move closer. When she turns, her deep brown eyes widen as they land on me, and I can do nothing but take her in, as if the magnetic pull anchors us to one another. Even though the anger from seven years ago sits in the back of my mind, she’s still the woman my entire body burns for.
7
Chuck:Ah, yes. The classic “remember that one time” conversation. Always a safe bet.
Lou:Unless, of course, ‘“that one time” is something embarrassing, humiliating, or deeply personal.
Chuck:So, what’s the over or under on him accidentally saying something that makes her walk away?
Lou:I’ll give it two minutes.
Being surrounded by joyful customers and cocktail shakers distracts me from the nervousness I’ve been feeling after seeing Clint. I’ve been so excited for this tournament, and I still am, but it’s layered with my wrongdoings coming back to bite me. I saw with my own eyes, he’s found someone. What did I expect? For him to stay single forever?
He’s moved on, found love and happiness, and though I like to say I’m happy and thriving, which I am, now it feels like it’s been soured. Seeing him, with someone else on his arm.
