Pitching for Her Love (6 page)

“Stan says these are the best,” he said as we sat down.  “You want to be off to one side so you can see the depth of the performance.”  I nodded wordlessly as I took in my surroundings.  The stage was directly in front of us, as dark and slick has a lake on a windless night.  I thought for sure if I reached out to touch it, my fingers would come away wet.

Suddenly, it became very clear why coming in from the back was necessary.  I heard, very clearly, voices behind me having their own conversations.

“Is that him?”

“It must be. It looks just like him!”

“He’s so hot, oh my god.”

“I can’t believe he’s here. We have to text Danny!”

Certainly those around us would recognize him.  He had taken his hat off once we had crossed behind the first black curtain, and some people were bound to have recognize him as we found our seats.  I just crossed my fingers that it didn’t cause a scene.

“You can just ignore them,” he said as he leaned over to me.

“Does this happen everywhere?” I asked.

He shrugged, signaling that yes, more or less, this did happen everywhere.

Fortunately, at that moment, the black curtain at the front of the stage, similar to the one we had crossed through only minutes before, began to rise.  I was grateful for the silence of the crowd and slid deeper into my seat.

I had never been to a Cirque du Soleil show before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the stage filled suddenly with people who were part dancer, part gymnast, and part magic.  The show was fantastic.  At one point, Grayson reached over and took my hand.  It was as casual and normal as if he were saying hello.  I liked it too. It felt right and good, and the silence in which we sat was comfortable and happy.

He explained the meaning behind some of the moves and dances we were seeing; apparently this show was meant to symbolize and interpret ancient Malaysian culture.  I began to get excited whenever something new would begin, because I knew he would lean over and whisper in my ear what to expect.  The performers’ bodies contorted and flew about the stage as if the laws of physics ceased to apply in that small space, and they all represented a story or a ritual from a long ago time.  The show itself told a story, and toward the end I didn’t need Grayson to whisper the meaning to me, but I wanted him to anyway.  He smelled like the bonfires I remembered from childhood. He smelled like the beach, and the sunset, all the happy memories I had.  His smell felt like home.

When the final number was over and the lights came back on dimly, we decided to wait silently for the rest of the audience to leave.

“What did you think?” he asked.

“I really loved it,” I said in earnest.

He breathed an audible sigh of relief and smiled.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I saw you and your friends in the paper earlier this week, and I thought a show like this may seem a little corny to you.”

For a moment I wasn’t sure what to say.  He was right. Usually this would not have been my ideal Saturday night, but with him it had been fantastic.  I was also a little embarrassed that he had seen me in the paper.  I opened my mouth to say something and he held up a hand.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you had fun.” He smiled and then motioned to the doors.  “It seems like almost everyone is out. Should we go?”

I nodded and stood up and began the slow walk toward the back of the venue.  When we reached the main doors, the lobby was still a little crowded, and Grayson got a lot of glances and hushed whispers in his direction as we walked by.  A few people pulled out their cell phones and tried to snap some discreet pictures.  I turned my face toward the ground and quickened my step.

Once we were outside, the crowds were more dispersed and I felt like I could breathe a little better.  Suddenly, all my outings with Amanda, Megan, and the regulars seemed like child’s play compared to what Grayson must endure on a daily basis.

“Did you drive?” he asked.

“I did,” I said and pointed in the vague direction of my car.  “I’m parked a couple blocks down that way.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he said, and we continued chatting about the show.

I don’t know whether I was walking slowly intentionally or if my shoes were more painful than I remembered, but I think I didn’t want the night to be over.

“I’d ask you to a late dinner, but we have training early in the morning,” he said.

In my experience, this sort of excuse was used to get out of a terrible date, similar to the way I had ended my date with Greg only last weekend, but there was genuine disappointment in Grayson’s voice.  It was as we approached my car, the small, black Audi parked beneath one of the street lamps, that I realized I wanted him to kiss me.

“This is me,” I said and pressed the unlock button.  The lights flashed in the dark, and I turned to face him, slightly awkwardly, and looked at my hands.

“Would you mind dropping me off down the block?  I have a car waiting,” he said.

“Yeah, of course,” I said and crossed across the front of my car as he slid silently into the passenger seat.

We sat there for a moment in silence, and I realized how nervous I really was.  Nothing like this had happened to me before, and I became very aware of my pulse, which was going at a furious rate.  He looked as natural as ever, smiling at me easily and nonchalantly, in no rush to move on.

“Tell me a little about yourself,” he said.  “I realize that I actually know very little about you other than how beautiful I think you are.”

Again, he said this so naturally that it could not have felt less like a pick-up line.

“Well, I grew up in Michigan, Ann Arbor specifically.  My dad left when I was young and my mom remarried Harry when I was ten.  I have a younger sister named Carrie; she still lives there,” I said.

“Was it hard moving away?” he asked, genuinely interested, and he turned in his seat to face me.

I shrugged.  “A little I guess, but it’s not like it’s too far for a visit.  What about your family?” I asked.

“Well I grew up in New York City.  I was always good at sports, so I just kept playing.  I honestly never realized it was going to turn into something this big.  But I’m getting up there, as far as age goes, for a player, so maybe I’ll move back once they force me out,” he said and smiled.

I could tell he was joking, but there was a hint of something more in his voice, a longing for a more simple life perhaps, or maybe a little regret.

It was then that I made up my mind to kiss him.  I was nervous, unnaturally so, but still determined.  Tonight had been wonderful, such a different and unexpected side of him.  I turned to face him and found that he was looking at me too.  He leaned in toward me at the same time I reached for him.  The instant before our lips met, there was a giant flash across my windshield, and I raised my hand to block the light.

“What the—” I began, and Grayson groaned.

“Just drive,” he said more firmly than I had heard him ever before.

My foot slammed on the accelerator and I veered away from the curb and onto the street.  Thankfully it was empty or I would have run into whoever happened to be driving past at the time.  The light at the intersection was yellow, but I accelerated faster and spared a moment to look in the rearview mirror to see dark figures gathering in the street where my car had just been.

“What was that?” I asked.

He stewed in quiet, angry silence, and I knew better than to speak again before he did.  We passed another set of lights before he answered me.

“It was the paparazzi,” he said. “They’ve been trying to catch me out on a date for a long time.”

We stopped at a red light, and I realized I had no idea where we were going, but I assumed he would stop me when we got close.

“My ex started dating someone new fairly recently,” he said, still looking straight ahead, “and they’ve been trying to catch me on a ‘revenge’ date or something.”

This must have been the longest red light of my life, and we sat in silence for another few moments until he looked at me in horror.  He hadn’t spoken about his ex at all that night, and I had been doing my best to avoid the subject, and now I find out that he could be using me for some sort of payback?

“That’s not what this is, Grace,” he said, as if he read my mind.  I nodded slowly as the light turned red, feeling a little foolish, and despite trying very hard, I felt disappointed.

“I-I’m so sorry. That’s not what I meant at all.  I just, I don’t do the whole fame thing so well I guess.  I’m still not used to it and it makes me mad.  I promise that this wasn’t revenge; I don’t play games like that,” he said.

“I know.  I believe you,” I said, and while the idea of him dating me just to get back at his ex was still in my head, I was more reassured.

“I’m very happy that you do,” he said, putting his left hand on my knee, a gesture that was both sweet and calming.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you two break up?” I asked without taking my eyes from the road.  I thought that this was a question I had earned the answer to.

“Is this for
Top Press
or am I off the record?” he asked with a smirk.

“No promises,” I quipped. He gave a little laugh and we both relaxed.

“Fair enough,” he said.  “It’s a long story, but basically I thought she was it.  She was everything to me, and when I met her I thought, no, I knew I wanted to marry her, to start a family, build a life.  But she cheated on me about a year ago.  We tried to work things out, go to counseling, the whole bit, but it never took and we broke up six months ago.”

There was a silence that followed, more pensive than comfortable, until he spoke again.

“I guess that wasn’t really a long story at all,” he said and laughed weakly.

“I’m sorry, Grayson,” I said instinctively, and I momentarily removed my right hand from the wheel to place on top of his.

We rode like this the rest of the way until he pointed out a black SUV parked on the street after the next light.  I pulled over silently and put the car in park.

“I’m sorry that the night had to end this way,” he said, locking eyes with me again.  As much as I wanted to kiss him, I knew this wasn’t the right time or place.

“Don’t worry about it; it’s definitely the most exciting date I have ever been on,” I said and smiled.

“I would love to see you again,” he said as his eyes continued to connect with mine.  His lips were slightly parted and seductive.

I smiled and nodded, feeling that this was both the best and strangest first date I had ever had.  I had no idea what I would tell the girls.

“I would like that,” I said, and the relief on his face was immediate.

“I’d try to kiss you again, but my driver is watching,” he said, and I laughed.

“That’s fine.  I don’t kiss on the first date anyway,” I said, and then he was the one to laugh.

“Goodnight, Grace,” he said, and he was out of the car before I knew it, as if the whole evening had been a dream.

“Goodnight, Grayson,” I thought, and after I watched the dark SUV pull away from the curb, I drove off into the night.

T
he next day was Sunday, and while I had promised Megan and Amanda I would go to brunch to give them all the details of the night before, I decided to have a lazy day at home, catching up on my closet organization and television reruns.  I promised them both I would give them all the details on Monday.  We had a promotional event at a swanky new art gallery that Amanda was really excited about, and I thought that would be the best time to give them all the details.  In hindsight, I was very lucky that I didn’t leave my apartment Sunday, and I found out why Monday morning.

On the first day of the workweek, I was uncharacteristically early for work.  I had spent all of Sunday thinking about Grayson, our next date, and even daydreaming about his last name on my first.  Grace Hunter had a wonderful ring to it.  This newfound optimism spurred me out of bed on Monday and propelled me through the morning routine that usually took a few hours in under fifty minutes.

I was in the office around eight, and when I stopped for coffee, my favorite barista gave me a weird look, like he was trying to place me, which was weird because he saw me almost every day.  He had finally given me my drink after shockingly few words and even fewer thumbs ups.  Brushing it off as him not used to seeing me this early, I grabbed my latte and scone and made my way to the elevators.  Looking back, I think I remember a few more stares than normal, but I was off in my own little world and didn’t notice.

However, when I finally reached the
Top Press
floor, I knew something was amiss.  First of all, there were people I had never seen buzzing around our cubicles, and when I finally made it to my desk, I could see what looked like hundreds of Post-it notes, all in different colors, tagged on to various surfaces.  My monitor, keyboard, desktop, picture frames, phone, everything was all covered in these pieces of paper.

Before I could see what it was that they said, a man I had never seen before confronted me.  He had dark skin, thick rimmed glasses, and was rail thin.  He had a somewhat bookish, arrogant appearance, as if he had spent his whole life trying to justify who he was and why.

“Grace Taylor?” he asked, his voice high and snooty.

“That’s me,” I said, setting my coffee down and picking up the first of many Post-it notes.  “Why do I have all of these?”

He smiled quickly and unsympathetically.

“We’re from the call service your company employs.  Usually it is only myself and one other woman, but we had such an increased call volume last night that we couldn’t keep up.  Some messages got through to a”—he checked his notes—“Bernadette Combs, and she was quite upset.  She insisted we come down here and sort it out immediately.”

“Well that’s great of you, but I don’t understand—” I began, but he cut me off.

“It’s because of you.  Many reporters believe you to be the woman in this picture,” he said, slamming a copy of the
Herald
onto my desk, a picture splashed across the front that I had never seen before.