Hardball Read Free Page B

tiny plastic pre-serve cup and ripped open another.
    “Another Dreamfield trip?”
    “Ah, no. I have this thing on Thursday night. The Petersen’s doing a fundraiser party, and I’m a donor.”
    The Petersen Automotive Museum stored classic and prototype cars in its comic-book behemoth building on Fairfax and Wilshire. He couldn’t make enough to donate that kind of cash. We worked for Los Angeles Unified, after all.
    I grabbed a cup from the stack by the coffee pot. “How much do you have to donate to get invited to stuff?”
    “Small potatoes. But I won a raffle. It’s formal. Want to go with me? Not a date or anything. Just I have two tickets and no sisters.”
    “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”
    “Not anymore.”
    “Ugh, sorry.” After my breakup with Carl, simple sympathy was all I’d wanted to hear, so that was all I gave.
    “Yeah, well…” He drifted off as if looking for words.
    Seeing a big muscular guy broken-hearted hurt my insides. I blamed it on too many romance novels. “You all right?”
    “She’s going to be there with this guy…” He shook his head. Smiled to deflect. Shrugged to lighten the words. “Movie producer. She says they’re friends, but I think it doesn’t matter.”
    I took a sip of the cheap black coffee. Cream and sugar never helped it, so I just drank it black in all its bitter badness.
    “You want me to make Michelle jealous? I’m all for it, but…” I didn’t like seeing my friends hurt, but I’d met Michelle. She was a bodybuilder. I looked down at myself. There was nothing wrong with me, but a bodybuilder I wasn’t. “I’m not the ‘make the ex-girlfriend jealous’ type.”
    “You’re joking.”
    “My friend Francine? You’ve met her. She might do the trick, and she loves cars.”
    “Okay.” He put down his coffee so he could talk with his hands. His mother was Sicilian, and he’d gotten his gestures from her side. “I want you to know it’s not like that between us. You’re my friend. I enjoy the hell out of you in a totally platonic way. But you’re gorgeous. Even with the glasses and baggy shirts. You’re bomb sexy. Not for nothing.”
    I looked at my coffee and cleared my throat. He wasn’t lying, but that didn’t make him right. “If I argue, you’re going to think I’m fishing for compliments.”
    “I won’t think that. But don’t argue. Come on. If you’re sexy enough for me, you’re sexy enough. It’ll be fun. They have games and exhibits. It’s crazy. I’ll drive so you can have a drink.”
    Why not? I had contact lenses and a closet full of designer dresses. If I didn’t make Michelle jealous, so what? I could keep Jim company and have a good time with him.
    I was totally putting on mascara for this.
    “Let’s go have fun then,” I said. “I’ll take a cab over to your house, and we can go sit in the Batman car. I have a dress that will knock you over. I hope she sees it.”
    “You’re a good sport, Viv.”
    The bell rang.
    “This is going to be the height of my week,” I said.
    I grabbed my bag of apples, turned on my springy little heel, and walked out.

    Carl hadn’t been a bad sort. There was nothing technically wrong with him. He wasn’t scary or arrogant. Wasn’t too confident. Just an approachable, low-key guy who didn’t shine too bright or demand too much. I’d felt comfortable about him right away, and we slipped into three years together without thinking. He took my virginity without hurting me or being intentionally gentle. He freaked out a little after at what he’d done and who he’d be for me for the rest of his life. I told him to take it easy. It wasn’t that big a deal.
    We never fought either, which had seemed great. Who wanted to fight? I didn’t. I wanted to come home and relax, watch some tube, have sex (or not), and go to sleep. So that was what I got. Everything was copasetic.
    Then there was a day like any other. I came home from a rough day at Hobart. It was a Friday, and I was