Cleat Catcher (The Cleat Chaser Duet Book 2) (41 page)

My phone pinged and I snatched it up, but it was only a message from Nikki asking if I’d talked to him yet. Disappointed, I texted her back in the negative and put my phone back into the staring-at-it-like-a-psycho position. Minutes ticked by and I sat up, resigned to do some work for the day, though I glanced to my phone every few seconds. I had to set up my travel plans to the West coast.

I logged into my travel account and was checking flight information when the ping sounded again. My heart leapt into my throat as I grabbed my phone and swiped across the screen. A message from Easton.

See you at 8.

It wasn’t a lot, but it was something, and I would take it. I called over to Nikki’s office.

“I’m meeting him at eight. What should I wear?”

“Something from my closet. Something red. Something—”

“I might be able to fit something from your closet around one of my legs. Try again.”

“Always rubbing those big tits in my face, aren’t you? Hang on. I’m going to write that line down for my Clitterbug piece.”

“Nikki! This is serious,” I hissed.

She popped her gum in my ear. “Okay then, Miss Serious. I have an idea.”

“Oh no. That’s never a good thing.”

“This time it is. We’ll go shopping and find the perfect dress. I’ll swing by your office at four, and we’ll sneak out.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I examined the long list of unread emails in my inbox.

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell Tessa we’re going to interview some teen trysexuals.”

“What the hell is a trysexual?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She made a
pfft
noise. “A girl who’ll try anything once.”

“Where the hell do you even come up with this stuff?” I was genuinely amazed at her abilities.

“I have a very particular set of skills.” She gave her best Liam Neeson imitation—accent and all.

“I’ll see you at four.”

“I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. But I
will
find you. And I will lick you.
Click.
”

I snorted. “Nikki?”

“Yeah.”

“When you say
click
, it doesn’t really have the same flair as if you’d actually hung up the ph—”

Click.

She probably heard my laughter from across the office.

E
ASTON

“
F
UCK YES!”
I read Kyrie’s text at least four times in a row.

“Hey man, aren’t you—”

“Right here, son!” I held my fist out for the kid at the drive thru window. Someone needed to celebrate this shit with me. He grinned wide and gave me a fist bump.

“You’re Easton Holliday, right?” My food rattled around in the paper bag because his hand was shaking so damn much.

“Yeah man. Hey, question. So this chick has been ignoring me because well, not to get too specific, but she found out I used to kind of play the field if you know what I mean. She blew me off for days and
not
in a good way. She finally texted me and said she’d go on a date. What should I say to her?” I took my drink and bag of food before he strangled it to death, then stared back at him.

“Umm—” He paused for a good ten seconds.

A car honked behind me. I leaned out the window. “Hey, I got serious shit going on up here. Wait a minute.” I turned back to the kid. I’d never felt this way in my life and I did not want to fuck it up. “Well?”

“Seems like, maybe you should umm, send her something so you at least set the date. Right?”

“Yes. Yes! That’s good.” I nodded.

Another horn honked, longer this time. I stuck my head out the window once more. “Look bitch, I’ll get you free tickets to the game Thursday. Just call the front office and tell them you’re the asshole with the horn. They’ll be waiting at will call!”

“Seems like maybe you should, I don’t know, say the bare minimum until you know exactly what you want to tell her?” He looked like he might faint.

“You’re a pretty sharp kid. I like it. Thanks, man!”

“No problem, Mr. Holliday, sir. Huge fan. I’m sure I’ll tell this story the rest of my life. But, I think these people are going to murder us if you don’t let them get their food.” He motioned to the line now wrapping around the building.

“Got it, chief. You want tickets to the game Thursday?”

“Hell yes.”

“What’s your name?”

“Mitch Mitchell.”

“Hah! Seriously?”

“Yes sir.”

“You a drummer?”

“No. But nobody ever catches on to that.” The kid grinned again and a horn went off.

“Fuckers. Anyway, they’ll be at will call, Mitch. I’ll try and come say hi after.”

I sped off before the fast food line turned into a steel cage match. Picking up my phone, I swiped the screen and read her message one more time. A tingling sensation radiated from my face and ended in my stomach.
Say the bare minimum. Just like Mitch told you. Mitch is wise.

See you at 8.

All at once, my predicament hit me.
What am I going to wear? What am I going to say?
I knew the conversation wouldn’t be light and flirty. Kyrie would ask me tough questions and want reasonable explanations.
I need Kasey.

Despite the fact that my sister told filthier jokes than Andrew Dice Clay, underneath her layers was a real girl, and I needed her to channel that bitch as soon as possible to provide me with some sage advice.

“Look Easton, if she starts hassling you about your past, just lick on her clit a little. It’s the easiest way out of a difficult conversation.”

She stood in the middle of my bedroom while I rifled through my closet like a mad man and searched for something to wear. “Will you quit fucking around? I’m serious. I need girl Kasey. Not bro Kasey.” I grabbed a long sleeved light blue button down and stared at it, then slung it against the wall of my closet. “Not good enough.” It fell into a pile of at least ten other shirts still on hangers.

“Fine, asshole. Make me be a chick. You owe me one, buddy.” She tapped her chin. “What would a girl that loves baseball dick now, but used to hate it, but loved it before she hated it—what would she want?” She shook her head. “It’s a toughie.”

Shirts flew against the wall faster every time Kasey spoke, and I was starting to sweat.

“You are out of control, big bro. You need to relax. I won’t mention an Asian massage parlor, because I’m being a ‘lady of manners’ right now. But the first thing I’d do if I was you was release some of that tension.”

“You really want to make a jerk off motion with your hand right now, don’t you?”

“Can I? Please?” She begged.

“No.” I shook my head and grinned. Her hand trembled in anticipation against her leg.

“Such a dick.” She frowned.

“Fine. Go on.”

I couldn’t even get the words before she jerked off in the air and threw the imaginary semen at me like she’d puffed a jizz cloud. “God, if I had a dick I would beat off non-stop. I’d slap stuff with it all the time. Sneak up on people and rest it on their shoulder like it was business as usual. And coming on titties? Fuck. I’d do just about anything to Jackson Pollock a pair of flop rockets. That’s the dream right there.”

“Jesus Christ, Kasey.
Focus
.”

“Okay,
okay
. I’m a girl. I’m Kyrie, what do I want?” She folded her arms. “I want honesty. I’m a straight shooter, no bullshit. If I’m Kyrie, I gather information and then make informed decisions after looking at it from all angles.”

“That’s actually—helpful.” I stopped rummaging for an outfit.

“Thanks for acting all surprised, prick.” Kasey ran a finger over my entertainment center and inspected it. She was a neat freak. Well, she was when she wasn’t fucked up on pain pills.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Wait.” Kasey’s eyes glanced up to the ceiling and then back to me.

“What?”

“Well, it’s just, I’m also an editor. That means I’m all literary and artsy and shit. Not to mention we are delving into the realms of love and feels.” She made a gagging noise.

I glared at her.

“Sorry. I’m still getting into character. It’s a process. She wasn’t really all that rational using her past experience to judge you. Look, Easton. Do you like this girl? Do you want a relationship with her? These are the clinger questions you need to ask yourself.”

“Easy. Yes and yes.” I fumbled through shoes. Maybe if I picked out the right pair of shoes it’d help me choose the rest of my outfit. I grabbed a pair and looked at Kasey.

“Those say ‘I want to let Braden fuck me tonight.’ Throw them away.” She chortled at her joke.

“Dating is
hard
.” I ran a hand through my hair.

“Easton?” Kasey stared at me.

I glanced back at her. “Yeah?”

“Do you love her?”

I looked away far too quickly.

“Tell her the truth then.”

I walked over and hugged Kasey, despite her protest. She patted me awkwardly on the back.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“Yeah yeah. As much as I love watching you sweat like a bitch, let’s find you something to wear. That light blue shirt would’ve been great, but now it’s in a pile. Good thing you own like five of them, you fucking woman.”

She sidestepped the pile of clothes I’d hurled into the floor and handed me a pair of medium gray slacks, another light blue button down, and a navy blazer.

“Thanks again.”

She waved a flippant hand in the air and walked toward the door.

“Hey Kase?”

She stopped in the doorway. “Yeah?”

“You gonna be here tonight? In case, well—”

“I’ll make myself scarce, no worries. Get your dick wet, kid.” She disappeared into the hall.

Sal Antonio’s sat off a main thoroughfare in the middle of downtown a few blocks from the stadium. The place was abuzz as I drove past and turned into the parking lot. The architecture in this part of town was over a hundred years old and full of character. Red brick walls and large glass windows framed the entrances of the buildings.

Crowds of people surged down both sides of the street. I stood head and shoulders above most of them and worked my way toward the front of the restaurant. A few heads turned, staring at me. Whispers faded when they passed, and the smell of fresh roasted garlic and basil wafted past my nose.

A large set of wooden double doors graced the entrance, and ‘Sal Antonio’s’ was chiseled in the granite overhead. When I walked through, my shoes squeaked on the white marble floors as I strode toward the host stand. A short man with dark hair in a sharp-looking suit rounded the corner and froze, then walked over to greet me.

“Mr. Holliday, pleasure to have you here, sir. My son is a huge fan.” He held out a hand.

I returned his gesture. “Thanks, I have a reservation for eight. Should be under Easton or Kyrie.”

“Excellent, sir.” He walked behind the podium where a young girl stood and talked to people on a headset while sorting menus. He looked back up to me. “Yes, I have you right here.”