Curveball (30 page)

The ice bucket was still in the corner of the elevator when Cat stepped in from the
unmanned lobby. She picked it up, glad of the reminder. The flight up six floors seemed
to take only seconds; she was preoccupied with digging her cell phone out of her pocket
and thinking how best to explain this situation to Junior.

The elevator opened at the sixth floor. Instead of her usual left, she took a sharp
right into the vending nook and shoved the ice bucket into the machine. As she pressed
the button and the machine began to hum, she dialed Junior. It rang three times and
went straight to voicemail. Cat sighed, pacing in front of the clanging icemaker.

“Junior, it’s Cat. I just spoke with Chance and you’re not going to believe it. I
hope you don’t have plans this weekend because I’ve set us up for an undercover sting.
Call me back whenever you get this. If I don’t hear from you before seven in the morning,
I’m coming over to your apartment.”

She grabbed the bucket and headed down the hallway. Slipping her key card in the slot,
she gingerly turned the handle and opened the door, cringing at the slow squeak of
the hinges.

“What took you so long?”

Paige was already showered, in her satin pajamas and holding her cell phone.

Cat clicked the deadbolt and raised the bucket. “Our ice machine was broken, I had
to go on a goose chase all the way down to the third floor. There was a line.”

Her eyes flashed to the cell phone in Paige’s hand. She smiled and walked over. “I
found it under the couch. You must’ve missed it in your search.”

“I swear I looked there.” Paige shrugged. “Oh well. What do you need ice for?”

Cat blinked at her a couple times. “The ice?”

Paige rolled her wide eyes at the bucket in her hands. “The frozen cubes of water.”

“Oh! Duh. The ice is for uh … my pores. They’re huge.”

Paige nodded in whole-hearted agreement, the same way a Dodger fan would if someone
said Sandy Koufax is the greatest lefty of all time.

“I didn’t want to say anything.” She pointed at Cat’s nose. “It’s probably going to
take more than an ice mask to shrink the canyons on that though. You should try a
microdermabrasion treatment sometime.”

Cat grabbed the finger out of her face and lowered it down with all the patience she
could muster. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She turned around and walked toward the bathroom.

“Aren’t you even going to ask me about my date?”

“How was your date?” Cat came out with a washcloth and began placing ice cubes in
it for effect. Not only did she need to sell her story, she was now insecure about
the circumference of her pores.

“Amazing. The circus thingy was pretty cool and then we went out for steaks at this
swanky European place. It was absolutely perfect.” Paige sat back down on the bed
with a soft sigh. She gazed thoughtfully out the large window to the twinkling city
lights.

“That’s nice.” Cat placed the ice pack on her nose.

“Chance is so much different than the guys I usually date. He’s suave and charming.”

Slick
and manipulative
.

“Plus, he says I’m smart. Nobody ever says I’m smart.”

Cat stole a glance at the lovestruck Paige over the mound of ice on her nose. A wave
of guilt superseded the chill from the homemade pore minimizer. As much as she was
enjoying the side job, her nagging conscience reminded her that her first priority
here, whether she liked it or not, was Paige.

“Paige, can I ask you something?”

The opportunity to talk about herself snapped Paige out of the romantic trance. She
turned to Cat’s bed. “Shoot.”

“Are you sure about Chance?”

“Sure?”

“Do you think he’s really the right guy for you?”

Paige threw up her hands in exasperation. “Haven’t you been listening? Why wouldn’t
I?”

Cat paused, searching for the right words. Upsetting Paige would only push her further
into Chance’s tangled web. “You just met him a week ago.”

“I know and he’s already bought me this.” She beamed and thrust her wrist toward Cat’s
bed, displaying a gold bangle scrolled with Tiffany & Co.

Cat pulled her wrist closer and examined the bracelet. “Tiffany’s? This has got to
be a two thousand dollar bracelet.”

“Two thousand five hundred.” She lifted up her phone and wagged the screen at Cat.
“I just looked it up on their website.”

Cat stared at her in mild shock. Of course the girl with a trust fund would price-check
gifts from suitors. She didn’t usually believe in such a thing as fate, but it occurred
to her that Chance just might be Paige’s soul mate.

The
Bonnie to his Clyde. The Nancy to his Sid
.

Match made in hell or not, if Chance was busted as a cigar smuggler with Paige Aiken
on his arm, her job with the Soldiers would go up in smoke faster than one of his
illegal stogies.

“That’s my point. For a guy whose client list doesn’t have a single familiar name,
he sure does have a lot of money.”

Paige ignored her, still stroking the gold bracelet between her fingers.

Cat continued anyway. “No big contracts. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

She finally looked up with a huff. “McDee, I don’t know. Some players bounce from
agent to agent. Maybe he had some bigger names at one time.”

That was true and she was slightly impressed at Paige’s quick reasoning, even if did
come from defensiveness rather than logic.

“Maybe … you should find out before you commit.”

Paige very coolly set the bracelet on her nightstand, fluffed the pillows on her bed
and settling in. Crossing her arms, she said, “How come I’m not allowed to give you
relationship advice but you think it’s okay to stick that shoehorn you call a nose
in my business?”

Taken aback, Cat replied, “Because your business is on the Soldiers’ payroll, whereas
no one is paying you to stick that plastic Beverly Hills button in my love life.”

Paige let out a gasp as fake as her nose. “I’ll have you know that I’m one hundred
percent natural.”

“Please.” Cat stormed to the bathroom, dumped the ice in the sink and came out with
a Kleenex. She wadded it up and threw it on Paige’s bed. “If you blow your nose, a
six thousand dollar price tag would fall out.”

Paige hopped out of the bed and charged the closet, pulling out her leopard-printed
suitcase. “Boy, am I glad that I’m going with Joe to that baseball tournament in San
Pedro de Macaroni or whatever the hell it’s called. A weekend without you sounds like
heaven.”

Cat stepped out of the way as Paige barreled by with the suitcase. “It’s
San Pedro de Macorís
and Joe didn’t say anything about you going with him.”

Cat checked her cell phone, but Junior still hadn’t called her back. For that matter,
neither had Benji, despite leaving him two voicemails. She hesitated for a moment
and then dialed him again. It was only nine p.m. in Vegas.

Paige headed back to the closet and began pulling dresses out. “You were out this
morning when he asked me, not that either of us has to clear it with you.” She carried
the dresses back to the suitcase and layered them in one by one. “I’m his assistant,
you know.”

As the call connected and rang, Cat reached for her pillow and smacked Paige across
the back with it. “Emphasis on
ass
.”

“Hey!” Paige had just reached for her pillow when Benji picked up.

“You’re up late,” he said.

A pillow smacked her across the head. “Hell—
ow!
”

“Hell-ow to you too.”

“I know, long night.” She shushed Paige with a glare.

Paige stuck her tongue out and threw the pillow to the side, resuming her packing.

“What’s going on over there?”

“Um, well, Paige and I were just having a pillow fight.”

“I thought girls just did that at slumber parties on the premium channels.”

“Ha, ha.” Cat walked over to the table and sat down. “We were just letting off some
steam. I called you like three times today, what's up?”

“Sorry, it’s finals, remember? My hours are screwed up and the science building is
testing a new cell jammer to prevent cheating during exams.”

“Finals!”

Sometimes she got so caught up in her own career, she forgot Benji had one of his
own.“But I read your latest blog entry.”

“What’d ya think?”

“I think that this Marcelo Santiago sounds like a very interesting prospect. He’s
got three impressive off-speed pitches, but his curveball is by far the most consistent.”

She giggled. “You just paraphrased the first sentence.”

“Which is pretty good considering it’s practically in another language.”

“It is in another language. That was on the Spanish site.”

“See? How was your day?”

Paige picked her orchid vase up off the table. “Hey, isn’t he like a botanist or something?”

Cat turned her back on her. “My day? Long, going on longer.”

She came around to the other side and waved the flowers in her face. “Can you ask
him why these are dying?”

Cat frowned. “They probably need water.”

“What needs water?”

“Just some orchids Paige got from a suitor.”

“Ah, good choice. Orchids aren’t as hard to maintain as people think. Make sure she
gives it plenty of bright light, but no direct sun and give it a good watering once
or twice a week. With proper care, it’ll live for—”

“It’s not a houseplant, they’re ... cut.” Cat narrowed her eyes at Paige.

“Oh. How romantic. Murdering a living organism and presenting its dying corpse to
the woman you adore.”

“I know.”

“Florists are nothing more than—”

“Taxidermists. I know.” She chuckled. “But I don’t think Paige will understand.”

“So is this going to go on much longer or should I call my boyfriend, too?” Paige
snapped the buckles on the hard suitcase and carried it over to the couch. She put
her hands on her hips. “I have to get up in five hours.”

Cat rolled her eyes. “I better get off the phone. Trust me, if Paige doesn’t get her
beauty sleep, we all pay for it.”

“Aw, man. I really miss you.”

“I know, me too. But I’ve only got two weeks left down here.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

With that, Paige began making gagging sounds.

Cat shut her phone off and pointed at her. “Shut. Up.”

Paige clicked the light off. “Gladly.”

Cat took one last look at the alarm clock. T minus seven hours until Chance expected
to pick her up with one eager ballplayer and Junior still hadn’t called her back.

Most mornings Cat had tiptoed around the hotel room while Paige lay sleeping, but
now that Cat was the one sleeping in, the courtesy went unreturned. Paige was not
a subdued roommate at any time of the day; however, the galumphing of four-inch stilettos
on the bathroom tile was even louder at six in the morning. The glaring bulbs under
her makeup mirror were even brighter before the sun came up. And the wafting hollandaise
from the room service cart was even harder to ignore under the covers. Cat finally
pulled the pillow out from under her head and smothered it over the top of her face.
Sitting at the breakfast table, Paige smacked her lips.

“McDee, you awake?”

Cat threw the pillow off the bed. “How could I possibly be sleeping right now?”

“Well, good, because I need to tell you that I’m taking the convertible this weekend.”

Cat sat up in the bed and grabbed her phone off the nightstand. No missed calls, no
voicemails, no messages. “No, no, no. Paige, I need that car this morning.”

“What for?”

“Uh … I was going to run some errands.” If Junior didn’t call in the next few minutes,
she was going to have to track him down.

“Okay, well you’ll have to do so in a taxi. Or the el bus-o.” She giggled and took
a bite of toast.

“Why can’t Joe pick you up?”

She shrugged. “We’re flying separately.”

“Flying?
San Pedro de Macorís
is like an hour and a half’s drive.”

Paige fumbled with her fork and it fell out of her fingers, hitting the plate with
a clang. She picked it up and wiped it with her napkin. “Drive. That’s what I meant.
We're driving separately.”

Joe was about as easygoing as they came but Cat supposed even he had his limits.

“When are you leaving?”

Paige looked at her cell phone. “About ten minutes.”

At least there was that. Cat checked her cell phone again. Still nothing from Junior.
She sent another text.

Are
you awake? Call me!

“Help me carry this stuff down to the car, will ya?” Paige had two suitcases, plus
her train case and a hobo bag.

Cat gaped at the baggage. “So it’s two pieces of luggage for each day or are you just
planning to steal a bunch of the hotel towels?”

“I like to pack enough options. I don’t know what I’m going to need. What if we go
out to a romantic restaurant?”

“With Joe?” Cat laughed. “You got a thing for him now?”

“Ew.” Paige’s already pink cheeks turned pinker. “I just meant, I like to have an
outfit for any occasion.”

Cat gave her a searching look. Paige was definitely up to something, but she was Joe’s
problem this weekend. Instead of prying, she pulled the handle out of the larger suitcase.
“I already know you have the trunk space. Come on.”

Cat waved goodbye from the sidewalk. The second the convertible rounded the corner,
she dashed back inside. A man was stepping into the elevator. She threw her hands
up from across the lobby.

“
¡Detenga el elevador, por favor!”

The man obliged and held the door open until she rushed on. She smiled graciously
at him.

“
Gracias
.”

He gave her a polite nod.

She started to push the sixth floor button but it was already glowing. She pulled
her cell phone out of her pocket and eagerly checked the screen, only to be let down
again.