Hector (Season One: The Ninth Inning #3)
Read Hector (Season One: The Ninth Inning #3) Online
Authors: Lindsay Paige,Mary Smith
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Hector
Season 1 of
The Ninth Inning Series
Copyright © 2015 by Lindsay Paige and Mary Smith
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
License Notes
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Table of Contents
I STEP BACK from the canvas and look at the splashes of colors I just added to the picture. Well, this looks like dog crap with a hint of red streaks. No wonder no one wants to purchase anything of mine, and no gallery wants to showcase it. It sucks.
I toss the paintbrush down and don’t even bother to clean it off. I don’t care right now because I need to get ready for my shift at the bar. I like my job at the Big Blue. It’s good money, and since I don’t sleep well at night, it’s almost perfect.
Once I’m out of shower, I dry myself off. I gaze in my full-length mirror at my newest tattoo—on my thigh. It’s a sunset with a whale and dolphin coming up off the waves of the beach. I check the ones on my left arm. They are to honor Aunt Lanny. She loves nature. My whole arm is a massive garden with flowers and large trees.
My right arm is for Aunt Minnie. She’s the opposite of Aunt Lanny. Aunt Minnie hates being outdoors and would rather stay indoors to paint, decorate, read old novels, and make her own jewelry. My right arm shows all of that, including the house they raised me in.
I slide into my uniform: black, very short shorts and a light blue, low cut tank top. I adjust my boobs to make them not look as saggy as I think they are. I softly rub the two tattoo ribbons that depict the birth and death of my parents. I never knew either of them. The only mementos I have are a few pictures that Aunt Lanny has of them holding me.
My parents loved the outdoors, and a few months after I arrived, they went out on a boat with some friends. In a freak accident, the boat sank taking both of my parents with them. From then on, Aunt Lanny, my mother’s sister, and her girlfriend, Aunt Minnie, raised me.
I wiggle my feet into my light blue cowboy boots and head off to Big Blue. Since I’m only a few blocks away, I walk over. I don’t use my car a lot since I’m downtown and close to everything. I mainly use it if I’m going home to my aunts.
I walk into the back entrance of the bar and wave at a few co-workers and head to the employee break room. Storm, the bar manager and my tattoo artist, meets me.
“Zoey, my girl, how are you this fine evening?”
I lock up my purse and turn to him. His mohawk stands tall and the tattoos on his neck seem to be more defined and bright. “What do you want?”
“Can you work the bar tonight instead of waitress?”
“Sure. It’s no biggie.” Either way doesn’t matter to me because I know it’s going to be a slow night. Weeknights seem to be lately.
“Thanks. I owe you one.” He kisses my cheek and heads off.
Mickey, my bar back, is already out there loading beers into the cooler. “Hey, Zo.”
“Hey, Mick.” I pat his shoulder and head over to the register and enter my name and count the cash drawer.
“You need anything special?” he asks, breaking down the boxes.
“If you’re by the closet, could you grab me some more towels?” I close the drawer.
“No problem. Anything for you, Zo.” Mickey gives me a smile and heads off. I like Mick. He’s a good kid and is working his way through college. He’s hardworking, and that tells a lot about a person.
“Is this seat taken?”
I sigh deeply before turning to my most annoying customer. “Hello, Mr. Customer.”
“Hello, Miss Not Interested.”
The lighting in the bar isn’t dark, so I’m able to see that golden tanned skin. His dark hair is shaped into a faux hawk today. His beard isn’t thick; it’s what I would call scruff.
I push open the cooler, pop open a beer for him, and put it in front of him. He pulls out a twenty-dollar bill. I try to give him his change, but, as always, he waves it away for me to keep it.
“How’s your day going?”
I tilt my head. For the past two months, he’s been coming in here and trying his hardest to get my name. I don’t usually mind giving customers my name, but it’s more fun taunting him. Besides, he gives me great tips.
“My day is going well. How’s your day?” I play nice.
“Okay.” He fiddles with the silver chain and the cross charm on it.
“Something on your mind?”
“Are you going to tell me your name?” he smirks.
I roll my eyes, but his smile is slightly contagious. “Not today.”
“I think I’m wearing you down.”
“Hardly.” I walk away from him to wait on a couple of women at the end of the bar. They’re already giggling and I know that they’re the laughing drunks. “Ladies, may I help you?”
“Yes.” The blonde sits taller and sticks her chest out a bit. “We want two lemon drop shots and two Heinekens. Plus, we want to send two fingers of Maker’s Mark to Hector Rodriguez over there.”
“To who?” I ask, confused.
“Hector Rodriguez.” The blonde points to Mr. Customer. “The first baseman for the Memphis Angels.”
“Oh.”
So, he’s a baseball player.
There goes my theory that he’s a personal trainer. “Sure. Not a problem.”
I quickly make up their order and give them the total. Blondie tells me to keep the change and writes her number on a napkin to give to Hector with the drink.
Bambi? Her name is Bambi.
I try to not to look in disgust at the horrendous name and take it over to him at the other end of the bar. “This is from the
lovely
ladies at the end of the bar,
Hector Rodriguez
.”
“Damn it,” he growls. “Now, I need to know yours.”
“Nope,” I pop out. “However, those girls have enlightened me about you. You’re a baseball player?”
He shrugs. “I thought you knew that already.”
I shake my head. “I’m not a huge sports follower. I knew you looked familiar, but I didn’t know the reason. Although, this is the first time I’ve seen you drink bourbon.” I nod at the glass.
“I don’t, and I’m not sure why they sent it over.” He’s trying not turn his nose up at it.
“Oh, and don’t forget that
Bambi
sent her number, too.” I tap the napkin for him and head away to wait on other patrons that are sitting down.
The evening begins to move smoothly and Hector finally makes his way to Bambi and her friend. He seems polite with them and laughs at their lame jokes. The blonde waves me over and since the music has grown louder, she leans farther over the bar at me.
“I hate that I have to wave you over, but we need more drinks.”
I nod and make the drinks she ordered.
“You’re super nice,” the blonde slurs a bit. “What’s your name?”
“Zoey,” I say without thinking and take her money.
I continue my trip around the bar checking on the customers, and I make my way back to Hector who’s by himself again. Of course, he hands me another twenty. I made another hundred dollars off him.
“Have a great night,
Zoey
.”
I drop my mouth a bit. “You got those girls to find out my name, didn’t you?” I narrow my gaze at him.
“I may have.” He reaches down and takes the pen from my apron and writes on the napkin. “Have a good night.” He pushes the items back over to me and walks out.
I look down and see he left his phone number. He seems like a nice guy, but I don’t think we’re compatible.
Too bad.
FOR TWO LONG months, I've been visiting the Big Blue bar every chance I get. Finally, Miss Not Interested has a name. Zoey. I'd thought that maybe she was brushing me off because I'm a baseball player, but she didn't even know until tonight. Which means she just doesn't like who I appear to be. And that sucks.
I've never minded a good chase, and all I really know about her is her name. Yet, I've been chasing her for two months. Why? Not entirely sure to be honest. She's hot and those tats of hers drive me crazy. I've sat at the bar, watching, and wondering about all her tattoos. I only get glimpses and teases depending on what she's wearing. At this point, I might as well be a part-time stalker as often as I come to the bar and watch her.
