Binding Arbitration (8 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Marx

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BOOK: Binding Arbitration
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“Afraid you can’t measure up?”

“I’m not interested in stumbling among the masses.”

He took a long swig of beer before he swiveled my stool toward him so he could examine me. “I hardly think you stumble all the time, and you already stood out from the crowd. That’s the first time I’ve lost a game to a girl and didn’t throw it.”

“You lost because you were too busy checking out my ass.”

“Checking you out was worth losing my competitive nature.” He tipped his beer bottle into my highball glass.
Clink

“What do you want from me?”

“How about a date?”

“Nope.”

“Sex?”

“You have a girlfriend.”

“Why would you think that?”

I put my hand over his right hand and strummed my fingertips over his bare ring finger. “Your class ring is probably hanging among some lovely coed’s perky breasts right now.”

“Did you say perky breasts?”

“You keep up better than most jocks.” I saluted him.

He had enough decency to blush, as he looked at his hands absentmindedly rubbing the white line across his finger. “We have a very open relationship.”

“I’m sure you have an open relationship, and I’m sure she doesn’t know about your extracurricular activities. Thanks for the offer, but I don’t play second string.” He was the finest thing that had ever given me the time of day, but I wasn’t going to be a plaything for some bat boy who didn’t know that everyone has feelings. Even we small town girls.

He kept staring, willing me to look at him. When I gave up, and our gazes met, he smiled. “You know, any other girl wearing those glasses would not appeal to me at all, but there’s something different about you, Elizabeth Tucker.”

“These librarian glasses enhance my ability to call a spade a spade.”

“Wow. Who burned you so bad?”

“No one.” I sighed. “Everyone.”

“You were more fun when I had you corralled in a small room, unable to speak.”

“Guys always lose interest, once I start talking.”

“I like to listen to your voice, even if I don’t know what you mean half the time. I’ll catch on sooner or later.” He picked up my hand from the bar, his thumb tracing the lines in my palm. “You have the prettiest hands. You talk with them.”

It was all I could do to keep my seat. I’d just been plugged in. All my senses were set ablaze. As ridiculous as it sounded, I knew exactly what it would feel like to touch him again. I would ignite. It would burn so badly and so deep that I wouldn’t be able to breathe or think or feel anything else.

And that’s exactly what had happened. I had been toasted to a crisp heap of broken heart. Superstar jocks don’t take cutters to the Rose Well House at the center of campus at midnight, to pledge their undying devotion beneath its sparkling dome. That privilege was reserved for girls of status.

And now seven years later, he’d insisted that I see him again. What does a girl have to do to get a little anonymous DNA?

 

7

AWAY GAMES

Bench me or trade me. Chico Ruiz

Aidan 5 a.m.

“Disposition, Band-Aid?” David asked as he took my bag.

I slid into the coal interior of the limo, where I found a
Tribune
and a Dunkin Donuts black coffee. “We’ll talk. Just let me jump-start my brain.” I saluted him with the Styrofoam cup.

“Nice shiner.” He snickered. “Up late?”

David and I had played baseball at IU together. He’d been a great first baseman, but not such a hot student. When his GPA bottomed-out, he was cut from the team, it wasn’t long until he flunked out, and then he bummed around Bloomington until everyone else graduated. When he came to Chicago, I invested in his limo business, not because I thought it would be profitable, but because he was lost and needed some direction. But he made a go of it and finished school, and now he’s busy signing contracts with every major sports organization in Chicago.

“Not for the right reasons. I couldn’t sleep. I need to have a difficult conversation with my parents.”

“The truth will set you free.” He laughed.

“Six years overdue.”

“I thought you might be flying out to see Vanessa.”

“She’s first up, and she won’t be happy when we’re done.”

“You finally releasing her from that hare-brained life-time contract she suckered you into?”

“I thought I could marry her, but I can’t.” I ran my hand through my hair. If I can’t confide in my best friend, who can I count on? “Someone reminded me how it feels to really want someone.”

I gazed out my window. We had just merged onto the Kennedy Expressway; traffic was sparse heading for the airport. “You never gave me your scouting report on Vanessa.”

“Hard to tell which one of you has been more spoiled, but I’ve known you a long time. When you dig deep there are some every-day good guy values.” He hesitated and he cleared his throat. “Vanessa, on the other hand… If you dig deep with her, all you’d find is decaying peroxide bottles.”

“Don’t hold back now.”

“Palowski, she’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. She has a greedy heart that only a bookie could love.”

I threw my head back against the headrest. “You could have told me sooner and saved me the trouble of buying a fancy ring.”

“Sooner or later you’d start to think with the right head.”

I’d say my vision had been clouded, where Vanessa was concerned, but it might have been delusional blindness.

“I saw Libby.”

“I know it’s a sore subject, and you’re not going to want to hear this, but Libby’s the only girl that ever changed you.” He nodded in the rearview mirror. “At the time I resented the hell out of it.

“I thought she distracted you from the team—and from winning.” David paused, smoothly changing lanes. “You always were perfect at everything, but something about her made you shine.”

“She kept the kid. He’s sick.” I tried to rub the ache out of my neck. “She’s a criminal defense attorney.”

“I know.” David scratched at his collar. “I shuttled attorneys from her firm to a Christmas party. She ignored me.”

“Well, you used to call her Little Libby Nobody.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t deserve it. I was an ass. I knew as much about women then as I did about making the dean’s list.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d seen her?”

“I tried to hint around about it but once you were engaged, I didn’t want to interfere.”

“Aren’t best friends supposed to?”

“My Granny taught me, if you don’t have anything nice to say, shut your pie hole.”

9 a.m.

I slipped into the BMW 645 rental, put the top down and made my way onto the freeway. One of the things I loved about California was the cars: Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Porsches, and Bentleys stretched across the landscape.

I didn’t know for sure, but I assumed Vanessa would be at the Ritz. I preferred the St. Regis Hotel for the character and history, but my fiancée thought the most expensive equaled the best. Plus, her family owned it.

Vanessa’s celebrity wasn’t birthed through education, hard work and ambition. It flowed through boarding schools, Swiss bank accounts and largesse. Vanessa vaulted to the media’s attention through calculated planning, publicity and public outbursts. It didn’t hurt that her father was one of the richest men in the world, owning Hotels that spanned the globe from Bangkok to Bolivia.

But she was going to be Daddy’s problem again. I had been working through this decision before I knew about Cass, but with the reality of him everything else seemed to crystallize on fast forward. There was no way I would be able to devote myself to establishing a relationship with him, if I had to babysit a spoiled grown up.

I pulled up on Stockton Street under the columned pediment which would have been better displayed on the mall in D.C. than wasted on a hotel. The valet opened my door, “Hey, you’re Palowski, on the Cubs, right?”

“That’s me.” I handed him a fifty-dollar bill. “Do me a favor, don’t garage my car. I won’t be long. An hour tops.”

The front desk rang Vanessa’s room; I heard Melinda on the line, and Vanessa screaming in the background: “Who’s calling so early in the morning?”

As if this was the predawn hour, I thought as the elevator jolted to a halt on the seventh floor. Her assistant met me at the door. She was dressed and ready for the day.

“Why don’t you take the beasts down to The Terrace, and have breakfast on me?” I waved some bills toward her.

“Maybe she’ll feel better when you’re done with her.”

“Don’t count on it. It’s not that kind of
tete-a-tete
.”

She didn’t seem panicked. “Are you breaking your engagement?” She asked curiously, before she smiled. “I quit. Give me one minute to grab my bags. Nothing could get me to come back knowing that. I’ll leave the canines at the front desk.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You have no earthly idea.” She dumped what was left of her toiletries into a carry on.

“Call David to pick you up when you get back to Chicago.”

“If you think… The only things she takes lying down are those that please her.” She bit her lips and I wondered what other revelations she was keeping to herself.

But I didn’t have time to ask, I was mentally preparing for a woman-made earthquake. This wasn’t going to go down smoothly, but I hoped I wasn’t going to have to refurbish the room.

The darkened suite was eerily quiet when I knocked on the bedroom door. I turned the knob, surprised it wasn’t locked. I made my way to the windows and pulled one side of the black-out panels back to illuminate the luxurious cavern.

“I don’t care if the King of Prussia is here!” She shrieked from behind her silk eye mask. “Revoke him from my room.”

This is what I reap for giving her a vocabulary builder.
I sat on the edge of the bed.

Palowski, Goldilocks isn’t as well rounded at the practice balls in the dugout.

“That’s one of your problems.” I ran my hand through my hair. “You never care what anyone else wants.”

Her lips contorted into a naughty smile. “Banford, you didn’t have to bring the Ferragamos purposefully. You could have shipped them, but I’m peachy–cleaned you didn’t.” She threw her covers back invitingly. When she shifted, her gown wound up around the top of her tanned thighs. There wasn’t a lot left to the imagination, undergarments had been an optional apparel item since she’d received her first bra.

“I didn’t bring shoes, and I didn’t come for that—either.” I tugged the covers over her bare assets.

“Oh my God, you got cut from the team.” She flapped her hands. “We can have more time to play together.”

“What? No, I told you I’m signing a new contract tomorrow.”

“You did?”

“That’s just it, Vanessa. You’re so wrapped up in your own life that you never listen to what’s going on in mine.”

“What are you trying to say?” If she noticed the condition of my eye she didn’t comment. But panic and fear began to rise in hers. “You love me, Banford. I know you do.”

“No, Vanessa, I don’t love you, not the way I should. We enjoyed each other’s bodies. I thought I felt something more, but it wouldn’t be right for us to marry. You’re not ready to settle down and have a family. I’m sorry, but we don’t want the same things. You hate Chicago, you don’t want to be a player’s wife; you want to be a princess and jet set.”

She pulled herself up onto her knees as she started to cry. I hadn’t seen the fake tears for what they were in the past but I gauged them correctly this time. “This is about the money. I’m sorry, Banford. I’ll be good from now on. I’ll live on the budget, I swear. I love you, Banford. Please, think of what you’re doing. Daddy already booked the Plaza for our wedding.”

“I don’t want to be tied to a little girl who’s living in a woman’s body. You can keep the ring, sell it and buy as many Ferragamos as you want.” I watched the crocodile tears dry up and the jaws snarl on a death chomp.

“Do you know who I am? I’m going to be one of the richest women in the world, when daddy dies. Do you think you can use me and be done with me whenever you want?”

“We used each other in equal measure. I’ve tried my best, but it’s not enough.”

Before I caught the first tremor of movement, she lashed out with her nails drawn. I felt blood run down my cheek in the wake of the burning claw marks. I stood and pushed her off me, she bellowed, her lungs heaving, hurling accusations. She became still. “This has something to do with someone named Libby?”

I froze, dead in my tracks on the patterned carpet. “What?”

“You said ‘oh Libby’, when you climaxed once.”

I felt weak in the knees.
I did?

“You’ve been cheating on me, and when I find out who the little bitch is, I swear I’m going to make her life miserable.”

What she lacks in brains, the leech makes up for in venom.

* * *

On the Pacific Coast Highway, I had passed painted ladies and gorgeous homes with giant picture windows overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco Bay. I had been so stupid, not only about Vanessa, but about Libby too. If I was calling out Libby’s name in my sleep, perhaps something bigger than my guilty conscious was at work.

Were the tangled workings of my principles reining me back to her all along? Did Cass get cancer, so I’d have to see her again? So I’d have to deal with what I’d done wrong? Maybe I deserved more than a black eye and a bloodied face. Until I’d met her, I had never had a reason to look in the rearview mirror of my life. Now it seemed I needed a major backwards glance.

I avoided oncoming traffic along the winding road and narrowed paths populated with drivers who’d attended a few too many wine tastings. My parents bought a small vineyard in Napa Valley when I went to college. I always considered Chicago home, but my younger brother, Avery, was a surfer, basking in Pacific waves every chance he could. He was a junior at Stanford this year, and I hoped he wouldn’t make the mistake I’d made in college.

The Italian-inspired villa sat in a clearing, shaded under two-hundred-year-old Spanish oaks. The deep-set stone veranda wrapped its arms around the entire perimeter of the house like my mother’s arms circling our family. The stucco exterior was painted butternut gold and the roof boasted red clay tile. Two turrets housed front and back staircases and stained glass windows. Huge, timbered oak double doors marked the entrance. The front façade was covered with purple bougainvillea, reaching up to the third story balcony—my parent’s favorite respite.

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