Cleats in Clay Read Free Page A

gonna leave Nate.”
“Then?” Odis encouraged.
“When I didn’t come in for the third game, someone leaked it to the media where I was. That’s when it turned into a three-ring freak show.”
Odis picked up the pipe, but this time when he handed it to over, he cradled Bobby’s hand in his own a few seconds before letting go.
Bobby inhaled another huge lungful, then slowly released it. “He died that night.”
Odis gently took hold of Bobby’s hand. Then he slid the pipe from Bobby’s fingers with his other hand and put it back on the table.
As his mind’s strangling fingers loosened more, Bobby felt suppressed anger emerging. “If it had been one of the other players, a player’s wife, there’d’a been memorials… people woulda written songs….” He felt his face hardening. “Sympathy of the media woulda been—”
Bobby clenched his fists. “Instead, I get the clusterfuck freak show.” He leaned forward against the table as he scowled. “ I’m some kind of villain for not supporting the team.” He took a deep breath and slapped his palm on the table. “ Never mind Nathan’s fuckin’ dead, there’s a World Series to win!”
All of Bobby’s strength poured out with his words. He slumped back down into his seat.
Scooting his chair closer, Odis reached out and gently touched Bobby’s drooped chin, pulling Bobby’s head up to look into his face. “I hope the fuckers lost.”
“Yep, they did.”
Odis gazed at Bobby with sympathetic blue eyes. “Maybe”—Odis took his hand and pulled Bobby to his feet—“maybe you should see it.”
He led Bobby by the hand back to the studio. “It was a work commissioned by the Equestrian Society,” Odis explained as he guided Bobby around the worktable. “I struggled with it over a week, not getting anywhere before….” Odis pulled the towel away from his work.
The emotional impact of the piece hit Bobby like a punch. He clutched at his stomach as he stared at the horse.
The clay sculpture was about twenty-four inches tall, and only the animal’s front section was visible. Its rear legs and rump appeared to be inside the table, trapped in a quagmire of muck. The horse’s eyes were wide with panic, a terror visible in its straining muscles as it fought to liberate itself from the puddle of thick mud, its right hoof cracked and split from the effort of trying to pull itself free.
Bobby slumped back against the cabinet. “Shit,” he moaned, not able to take his eyes from the raw clay. It felt as though all his suppressed emotional pain sprang to life in front of him. He felt himself sinking to the floor as the fingers of control in his mind completely released their grip.
“Whoa, dude,” Odis said, reaching out to hold Bobby upright before he slid down to the floor. “I didn’t expect to knock ya off your feet.”
“It’s, it’s very… powerful.” Bobby dropped his gaze to the floor, fighting the chaos spiraling inside. Odis’s hand on his arm felt so firm. The room seemed to be getting warm. His thoughts felt jumbled. The room got hotter. He couldn’t seem to pull them—his thoughts—together.
Bobby thought he saw a blurring streak across the front of the glass as a strange buzzing noise filled his ears momentarily.
Odis put his other hand on Bobby’s chest and pulled him up to his feet. “Oops.”
“Oops?” Bobby asked, the word making a funny echo in his head.
“Maybe my sister.” Odis leaned toward him.
It seemed like Odis was going to kiss him. Bobby shook his head, trying to clear the fuzzy jumble of tangled thoughts. “Maybe?”
Odis pushed him back to lean upright against the cabinet. “I said, it may be my sister.”
Bobby saw Heimdalla appear in front of the glass windows. He watched the large dog bouncing and jumping in an excited way.
Gertie strolled up and marched right through the sliding glass door— or maybe she opened the door first, Bobby couldn’t remember. “There you are. You don’t ever answer your damn