Indelible (5 page)

“No, I’m good.” Tori tugged on her sweater and threw her arm around Angie’s shoulders. “Poor thing, let’s get you home.”

They walked together, no small talk, just the comforting presence of her best friend to help with the persistent throb behind Angie’s eyes. Angie paused when they reached Coraggio and looked through the window. She wished for an excuse to go in and say hi, but knew she wouldn’t take advantage of it even if she had one.

Luna was working on a client, head bent to her work. Her hair formed a protective barrier, preventing Angie from seeing the design or catching Luna’s attention. She watched for several moments, captivated by Luna’s intense focus. Not that she could see Luna’s eyes. They were hiding behind the cascading wall of rich brown hair. It was the way she held her body—controlled, each movement flowing, precise, and tight. No gesture wasted.

Angie’s headache didn’t disappear, despite the perfect freeze-frame moment. But standing in the soft light that filtered through the storefront window, she realized that though the ache was still there, it just didn’t register. In the battle for her attention, Luna defeated the pain.

Luna turned her head slightly, and Angie met her eyes for the first time. Luna straightened, right hand on her client’s shoulder, tattoo gun in the left, and held Angie’s stare. Her mouth curved in a gentle, unassuming smile, so different from their previous meeting.

She’s left-handed.
It wasn’t an important detail, but Angie added it to the small catalogue of information she had already stored away about Luna.

Angie raised her hand in a small wave and Luna returned the gesture. They stared at one another so long, the moment stretched thin and she finally snapped back to reality. After lowering her hand she rushed to catch up with Tori, who was half a block ahead.

Luna was a fantasy. One that she needed to get over quick. Women like Luna never stayed for breakfast. Angie, on the other hand, was a breakfast, lunch, and dinner-for-the-rest-of-our-lives kind of girl.

The throb in her temple increased with every step.

Saturday, July 18

The sun was shining, and by the bottom of the seventh inning, Luna had gotten three hits. Granted, one was a foul, but the other two were solid. The first had been a low-sailing fly ball that landed between the players in left field. The second, a line drive, knocked the pitcher flat and pissed off the other team. She felt bad about that, but not bad enough to forfeit her base. She suffered through their jeers at first base.

Three more hitters and it would be her turn at bat again. She didn’t expect that to happen this inning. The pitcher was all kinds of fired up after being embarrassed earlier. She hadn’t given up a hit since Luna caught her off guard.

Perez sat next to her on the bench, Gatorade in one hand, unopened pack of Marlboros in the other. She nudged Luna with her shoulder and dropped the cigarettes into her gym bag. “You never did say why you came today.”

It was a legitimate, if obtuse, question. Luna hadn’t made it to a game in weeks.

“Quite the coincidence that Angie’s here, too.” Perez gestured to the bleachers behind theirs.

Coincidence,
my
ass.
Luna had checked her softball schedule the second she arrived home with dinner the other night. When Angie mentioned Custer Park, Luna knew that the games would be held in the same place. Luck was on her side because they were also at the same time. No way would she miss it when fate packaged it so nicely for her. She didn’t understand how Oliver had a game when Little League season had ended a couple of months prior. Regardless, he was playing and, more important, Angie was there watching.

“Is she?” Luna took an exaggerated look at the bleachers. She zeroed in on Angie far too soon to feign ignorance, but she did so anyway. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“And here comes your girlfriend.” Perez pointed at Ruby marching along unaware that three-inch heels and gravel lots do not go together. Her eyes drilled in on Luna, then darted once to Angie, then back to Luna and held. She’d dyed her hair a deep mahogany since the last time Luna saw her and the copper highlights flamed red in the sun, making her look like a righteously scorned woman. “And she looks pissed,” Perez said.

What the hell was she doing there? This development would drastically affect her plan to talk to Angie after the game.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Luna knew Perez was baiting her, but she couldn’t hold back the snapped reply.

“Really? Then what is she?” For some reason, unknown to Luna, it was important to Perez that she define her relationship with Ruby.

“Convenient.” Luna lifted the Gatorade from Perez’s grip and took a long drink. If her mouth was otherwise occupied, Perez wouldn’t expect her to hold a conversation.

“Then why not go over there and say hello to Angie?” Perez inclined her head toward the adjacent field. Angie, along with an older man, was watching a Little League game.

Why not indeed? God knew Luna wanted to. She wanted to ask if Angie felt the same fluttering in her stomach, the same shortness of breath, like her presence eclipsed the whole world. But she couldn’t do that. Christ, she’d just described the symptoms of an asthma attack. What would she say? “Hi, just wondering if you develop a chronic lung disease when I’m around. I do, when I’m around you, that is.” No, that wouldn’t work. Luna was reduced to a babbling idiot in a fictional conversation with Angie. Imagine if she tried to talk to her.

“It would be rude.”

“Rude to say hello? I’m confused. Since when are good manners actually bad?” Perez retrieved her drink.

“Not rude to Angie. I’m talking about Ruby.” Luna smiled at her non-girlfriend who was almost at their ball field. “Now shut up. I don’t want you to upset her.”

“You don’t want
me
to upset her?” Perez asked. “Look at her. She’s not in a sunshiny kind of mood now. What the hell is she even doing here? First you show up, then her. You two are fucking up my game-day routine.” Perez, like most ball players, was highly superstitious. Luna thought it was all crap.

“I’ll handle Ruby, you worry about your routine.” Luna stood. She needed to intercept Ruby sooner rather than later. The longer she was left to stew, the worse her tantrum would be. Ruby redefined high-maintenance. “And for the love of Christ, do
not
say anything about Angie to Ruby.”

After the last time Perez mentioned Angie in front of Ruby, it had taken Luna twenty minutes to talk Ruby out of her clothes. That was twenty minutes too long for a relationship based exclusively on sex. Ruby was hot as all fuck, but damn, she could act like a girl sometimes.

Luna left Perez on the bench and jogged over to Ruby at the edge of the field. “What a nice surprise.” She kissed Ruby on the cheek. On the rare occasion that Ruby attended a ball game, she always showed up at the very end. She liked Luna all sweaty and pumped up with victory, but didn’t want to watch the actual game.

“Weren’t expecting me, were you?” Ruby pulled Luna in for a much more thorough kiss. Before their lips met, Ruby looked over Luna’s shoulder. Angie’s set of bleachers was in her direct line of sight.

The kiss felt more like an assault to Luna, like a small child snatching back her toy without thought or affection for it, simply a desire not to share. When Ruby finally released her, Luna sucked in a breath and tried to smile. Her confusion made it difficult.

“It’s still nice to see you.” Luna tucked Ruby’s hand into the crook of her arm and led her to the bleachers. Ruby liked being escorted like that. It was the perfect accessory to her carefully constructed image. “You can watch the rest of the game, then I’ll take you home.”

“How much is left?” Ruby pulled Luna onto the seat next to her and gestured toward the field, where the teams were switching sides. Her anger was dissipating, but Luna was sure it would take very little to get her fired up again. She hoped her steady show of attention—though lacking devotion—would be enough to stave off another burst of steam.

Luna’s turn in center field was over, so she could sit with the spectators for a bit. Besides, Ruby was toying with the frayed edge of her T-shirt—she’d ripped the sleeves off her team jersey at the beginning of the season. Her fingers grazed the overheated skin on her shoulder just enough to get Luna’s attention. She was ready to call it a game and take Ruby home. Ruby was safe. Luna knew exactly what Ruby wanted and how to give it to her. Angie was a minefield of uncertainty. Luna’s attraction to her made no sense.

“It’s top of the eighth.”

“Lover, as sexy as all that sports talk is, you know I don’t know what that means.” Ruby was relaxed. The use of the term
lover
indicated that she’d forgiven Luna for any perceived wrongdoings.

Three full seasons of Luna’s softball games and Ruby still didn’t understand simple terminology. Granted, she never watched the game, but Luna was surprised that not even the basics had seeped into Ruby’s brain.

“Two more innings to go.”

“And how long will that take?” Ruby inched closer, her breath hot against Luna’s ear. “I’m hungry.”

Luna could easily lose herself in Ruby’s presence, the brush of her breasts against Luna’s arm, the promise of fun and debauchery in her voice. Ruby was a master at seduction. Luna forced herself to respond. “Depends. Could be ten minutes. Could be an hour.”

“No way am I waiting an hour for what I want to do to you.” Ruby moved her hand dangerously high up Luna’s thigh.

“Luna, stop dicking around and get over here.” The coach’s voice interrupted Luna’s impending explosion.

She gave Ruby a quick kiss. “I’ll be back. Will you wait?”

Ruby poked out her lip in a pout, but nodded.

As Luna trotted to the players’ bench, she glanced over to the other field. Angie was staring at her. Hard.

*

“You see someone you know?”

Angie cursed under her breath and turned back toward Oliver’s game. It was bad enough that Luna’s presence distracted her so much; she didn’t need her father to know about it. In his mind, she was still in high school, and he found an enormous amount of pleasure in teasing her about a perceived crush. She’d smiled a little too big at the UPS delivery driver once and her father didn’t let her forget about it for three months.

“No,” she replied without looking at Jack. He had an uncanny knack for knowing when she was stretching the truth and no compunction about calling her on it.

“Really? Because you were burning holes through that woman over there.” True to form, Jack called bullshit on her white lie. Sometimes Angie wished he would just leave well enough alone.

“I met her, but I don’t
know
her.” Angie hoped that would satisfy him.

“So, she’s someone you’d like to know?”

“Yes.” Angie realized a moment too late what she’d said. “I mean no. No.” She tried for confident, but the statement still came out sounding a lot like a question.

“Okay.” Jack seemed nonplussed. “You realize you aren’t making sense?”

“Yes, can we drop it now?” Angie stared resolutely at the ball field. Oliver was covering first base and the runner there was stretching his lead from the plate so far it was obvious he was trying to steal second. She pointed to Oliver. “Watch your grandson.”

When Jack returned his focus to Oliver’s game, Angie risked another glance at Luna. Her girlfriend was sitting in the bleachers staring at her fingernails. Odd that she even showed up if she found the game so boring. Luna was next at bat and Angie suppressed the urge to cheer. Not that Luna needed encouragement for her batting, but anyone who looked that good wearing a torn jersey and a whole lot of sweat deserved some vocal encouragement.

Angie felt almost guilty about her inappropriate thoughts about Luna, but had decided to let it be what it was: an enjoyable fantasy. Yes, she was objectifying the woman. The feminist in her protested, but the lesbian who needed to get laid could live with it.

Hoots and hollering around her brought her back to the game she had come to watch. A batter from the other team scored a hit, but the outfielder scooped it up and threw it to Oliver.

Angie held her breath as the ball arced through the air. Even though he’d been playing ball since he was five—when he joined his first T-ball team—she still crossed her fingers and prayed every time the ball approached him. He didn’t miss very often, but when he did, it was spectacular. The guilt he felt afterward was enormous, and it took days for Angie and Jack to pull him out of it.

Oliver caught the ball with a practiced tip of his glove, then tagged out the runner with a serious smile. That expression always cracked Angie up. She didn’t know how he managed to look so happy yet so earnest at the same time.

Half of the spectators erupted into cheers. The other half groaned. That was the final play of the eighth inning and Oliver’s team was ahead by two runs. Not a large enough lead to get cocky, but comfortable enough for the other team to feel the early pangs of defeat.

Angie glanced back at Luna’s game. Luna had just stepped up to the plate and was mid-swing. The bat connected with a mighty crack and the ball sailed deep into left field. Luna didn’t wait to see if it was snagged before it hit the ground. She took off toward first base like a house afire. Angie liked to watch her run.