Sparks the Matchmaker (Aaron Sparks Series) (3 page)

Chapter 3

Ollie was staring silently out of the passenger window of Keith’s car, trying to avoid the conversation he knew Keith was going to get out of him eventually anyway.

“So, where’s your car?” Keith said.

Ollie sighed.
He’s gonna get this out of me if it kills me.
“In the gym parking lot. Near Anne’s place. I ran out of gas.”

“Let’s go get it.”

“After we go hit some balls around. I gotta defend my title first.”

“Posh. Your reign is over. You never win more than one in a row anymore.”

Ollie had to crack a smile. “What kind of word is ‘posh’?”

Keith looked at him. “There! My work is done.”

“What work?”

“You laughed. You finally don’t have that ‘take it out on the wall’ look on your face anymore. Now you’re as good as cured.”

“Whatever.”

“Well, cured or not, just don’t punch out any of the windows in my car. We’re gonna need you for the game tonight or Richie will have to play in your place.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. The game. I figured I’d be out celebrating with Anne...”

“But what? You ever gonna tell me what happened?”

“Sooner or later, I guess. Just not now.”

Ollie watched the city pass by as he stared out the window. At the same time he shot down any attempt Keith made to get him to talk, he appreciated that he was trying. He didn’t feel quite ready to talk, but he was glad someone was trying to listen. The scenery of city buildings changed into farmland over the course of the twenty minute drive, which meant they were arriving at the ballpark.

“Ollie!”

“What?”

“Come back to earth, man! I told you three times. You’re up. You won last time, so you’re up first.”

Ollie took out his wooden bat and waved it around a few times to warm up his arms. He filled in the holes next to home plate and packed the dirt tightly so he could firmly plant his feet. He threw a small handful of dirt into the air to test the speed and direction of the wind, which was carrying slightly toward left field. He dusted off the plate and held his bat out in front of himself at waist height to show Keith exactly where he wanted the pitch to be thrown. Keith snagged a ball out of a pile of baseballs and reared back as if he was going to throw, but then he stopped.

“What?” Ollie asked as he relaxed his stance and let the bat drop back down to the ground. “Throw it.”

“So what did happen with you and Anne today?”

Ollie lifted the bat back up, ready to swing. “Don’t worry about it. Throw the stupid ball.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Ollie was completely caught off guard when the first pitch came in hard and hit him right on the left elbow. He dropped his wooden bat and cupped his right hand over his throbbing elbow. “Oww! What are you doing?”

“Oops.”

“Slow it down. You can’t aim when you throw hard.”

Ollie dug in again, forcing his mind to think about how he was going to use the wind to his advantage. He should have at least suspected it this time, but he still didn’t react quickly enough to get out of the way.

The next pitch hit him directly in the rib cage. He doubled over in pain, then hurled his bat at Keith.

“Nice,” Keith laughed as he watched Ollie’s bat bounce end over end toward second base. “You’ll be lucky if you didn’t crack it.”

Ollie pouted a little and walked out to grab his bat. He looked down the barrel and felt it with his hand, spinning it as he felt it. “It did crack, you jerk.”

“I’m the jerk? I’m not the one throwing bats at people.”

“You’re still a jerk. Where’s my other bat?” Ollie drew a brand new replacement bat out of the bag and peeled the price sticker off the barrel. He walked back toward home plate to take another swing.

“I’m not the one refusing,” Keith said seriously, “to talk about whatever happened with Anne. What, you have me help you plan the whole thing out, and then you won’t even talk to me about it once it’s done? I thought I was your best friend.”

“I know, dude. I just don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean; ‘right’? Did I break a rule about having to talk about things right after they happen? Just give me some time.”

“Time for what? More time means more holes in walls and you know it.”

“I guess.”

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone. And I promise I won’t hit you with the ball anymore.”

“You won’t hit me because you know I can throw harder than you and you’re going to have to step into the box sooner or later.”

Ollie dug his right foot into the dirt, lined up his knuckles around the grip of the bat, and looked up to Keith for the next pitch. The pitch was perfect. Ollie shifted his weight back and transferred that weight forward, snapping his wrists at the perfect time as the bat crossed the plate, but the ball popped straight up in the air. Keith jogged nonchalantly out toward third base and easily caught it.

“Caught it,” Keith chuckled. “That’s worth two outs.”

“I know what it means. Just throw the ball.”

Ollie dug in his right foot again and started to line up his knuckles again, but noticed when he did so that there was a slight crack along the wood grain above the handle. “Ugh! Cracked this one too! What kind of cheap wood is this?”

He slammed his bat down on his right knee thinking that he could easily snap it the rest of the way, but the crack didn’t split any more than it already had, leaving a nasty welt on his knee. He bounced up and down, becoming angrier with each hop. He slammed the bat down on the ground, successfully breaking it the rest of the way, and then threw the handle toward first base.

“Looks like you lose by forfeit,” Keith said. “You’re out of lumber.”

“Come on, it’s not funny. I’m gonna use
your
spare bat.”

“Sure it’s funny. What’s not funny about it?”

“Just give me a bat. Which one do you want me to use?”

“Does it matter? I only have two bats and you still have 3 outs left this inning. You’ve broken two bats and have had only one swing. So have a look around in there for the chainsaw, because by the time you’re through we’ll need it.” Keith pointed to the trees.

“Ha ha. You’re real funny.”

“You
are
allowed to laugh, ya know. Is your sense of humor out of gas too?”

“Sorry. It’s just that I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I swear, I had my whole life planned from here on out and then all of a sudden it’s all gone.”

“I’m going to go ahead and suppose that Anne said no. Did she break everything off completely or just say she needed more time?”

“Sounded like she wanted to break things off completely to me.”

“What did she say?”

“Honestly? I don’t really remember much after she said ‘I guess I should have told you this a long time ago and you do mean a lot to me, but...’”

For the rest of the time that Ollie and Keith were on the field, Keith pitched a few questions about their relationship and Ollie took some good swings at trying to answer them. Their five innings of play ended up taking nearly two hours, most of which was spent chasing down the scattered baseballs around the outfield and chatting about Ollie’s misfortunes of the day. In the end, and probably because Ollie couldn’t help but let his emotions get the best of him, the score wasn’t even close. Keith won by a large margin, but neither of them were really thinking about baseball.

Once the two of them were back in Keith’s car, Ollie went back to staring out the window. “What did you think of us?”

“Huh? Think of who?”

“Anne and me. What did you think of us together?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah, honestly.”

“Well, I thought you guys were great together.”

“You did? Do you think she’ll change her mind?”

“Let me finish. I thought you guys were great together, but the last few months seemed like you guys kind of outgrew each other. There wasn’t much spark between you guys anymore.”

“I know. I knew it was happening, but I guess I just thought it was something temporary. Honestly, though, I can’t see myself with someone else.”

“You’ll have to ask yourself, though. Can you not see yourself with someone else because of how madly in love you guys are with each other, or because you’ve been with her for so long that you can’t remember what life was like without her?”

Ollie thought for a moment. “I really don’t know, Keith.” He sat in silence the rest of the way to the gym parking lot where he left his car. He hadn’t gone out of his way to do anything special for Anne in a long time. Most of the time they spent together over the last few months was mostly studying anyway. When they weren’t studying, he was watching a ball game or searching the internet while she was talking on the phone or reading a book. Sure, he hadn’t had the desire to ask any other girl out for quite a while.
But maybe that’s because she’s my default. Maybe I don’t want to go through the effort it takes to think of things differently.
Sure, he would hold her hand when they went to the movies or whenever he thought someone was checking her out, but maybe that was because that’s what he was supposed to do rather than what he really wanted to do. Maybe she had become his routine.

“Bad news,” Keith said, snapping Ollie out of his trance.

“Huh? What?”

Keith didn’t say anything, simply shifting his car into park and pulling the keys out of the ignition. He nodded through the windshield.

Ollie saw it. He slowly opened the passenger door and walked with a quickening pace toward his car until he was close enough to read the sticker on the driver’s side window.

Keith followed him. “Better call that number,” he said. “That parking boot’s not going come off your wheel with magic. Or even Oxy Clean.”

“This isn’t right. No way. They can’t put a boot on my car. It’s not my fault.”

“As much as I wish I could be Judge Judy here, you and I both know it’s not me you have to convince.”

***

Ollie had a loud and angry conversation with the boot man, telling him to come right away, but he knew he had some time to kill before his arrival. In the meantime, they walked to the nearest gas station and borrowed a gas can. As they waited for the boot man, Ollie got madder and madder, pacing the parking lot so that by the time the boot man did show up half an hour later, Ollie was emotionally ready for him. He’d planned out everything he was going to say— starting off calmly to try to butter him up— and if that didn’t work, he’d let Mr. Bootguy know what he thought of him.

“Come on,” Ollie pleaded. “I couldn’t help it. My car ran out of gas and I had to leave it here until I could come back and get it.”

“I put the boot on the car over two hours ago. You could have come back a long time ago and you’d have a better case.”

“Please? I didn’t know I couldn’t park it here. How was I supposed to know?”

“Um, there’s a sign at every entrance to the parking lot?” He pointed.

“I just—”

“Listen,” the man said. “I’m just doing my job. I received a call from the gym saying that they saw you park your car here and walk the other direction. This parking lot is for gym customers only. Otherwise college students would be parking their cars here to walk to campus.”

“Okay, that’s fine. It’s your job, but you can let it slide if you want to. I’m sure you’ve made mistakes parking your car.”

“Yeah. About two months ago I accidentally parked my car in front of a fire hydrant.”

“There, see?”

“And my car got towed. I still had to pay the fee. You’re lucky I got here before the tow truck did. That would have cost you a lot more than fifty bucks.”

“You’re obviously paid on commission. I get that. You can let me off if you want to, but it’s all about the money for you.”

“Is there something wrong with that? Do you feel bad about taking money for your job, whatever you do?”

“You gotta hate your job, don’t you? I mean, people don’t despise me for doing my job. I bet you get all the hot girls while you go around putting boots on people’s cars, don’t you?”

“Listen,” the man said calmly as he handed Ollie a business card. “If you have a complaint about me or you want to dispute the fine, you can call the number on this card or file a complaint on the Web site.”

“Right. You and I both know that’s a cop out. That’s what you say when you know you’re wrong. Whoever the decision maker is on those complaints, if there even is one, doesn’t care about what someone has to say.”

Ollie continued to argue with the man for ten more minutes before Keith finally decided he didn’t need to stick around anymore, excused himself, and drove off. Ollie never succeeded in getting the man to drop the fine even a penny, nor did he successfully get the man to admit he was innocent. Finally, Ollie handed the man his debit card and watched him fill out the paperwork. When it was done and the boot was removed from Ollie’s tire, the only thing left was for him to sign on the dotted line. He stood there with the thick pad of carbon copy forms in his left hand and the pen in his right pretending to be reading the ticket.