“Ha ha. Anyway... you’re going to just have to be yourself and let the chips fall where they may.”
“Okay.”
A little silence.
“I think I’d like another beer,” he said suddenly.
“Didn’t you go to rehab? I mean, if you have any dependencies, congenital diseases, it’d be good to know.”
“I didn’t go to rehab. I went to Cozumel.”
She stared at him. “Come again?”
“My manager at the time thought rehab sounded more glamorous than the fact that I’m afraid to fly so I get drunk first. I hardly ever drink because it makes me fat. I hate to fly, and I don’t like working out. So I watch my weight like an old fart, and I’m only thirty-five. I do get stage fright, believe it or not. I sometimes get a little drunk before I go onstage. I smoke a little weed.”
“And that’s all?”
“These days,” he said. After a moment of what appeared to be genuine brain-racking reflection.
She wasn’t certain she believed him. Rock stars usually only truly repented all their bad habits right about the time they got their second liver.
He stuck his tongue out, folded neatly in half. “And I can do that.”
She smiled at that, somewhat reluctantly. “Annelise can do that. I can’t.”
“Dominant and recessive traits. See, I’m no dummy.”
“Never thought you were, Jasper. Not now, not then.”
“I’m not a saint, either. If you have any cute friends, I’ll probably hit on them a little. It’s a reflex. In the spirit of full disclosure.”
She sighed. “If you could refrain from ever doing it in front of Annelise...”
He went still.
“Does that mean...”
She paused. “Let’s... let’s talk some more.”
Gabe had bashed the crap out of the ball every time it was pitched to him, sending the outfielders scrambling and alternately fuming or whimpering.
They won by three points.
It wasn’t a pretty win, but somehow that made it even more satisfying. He was in the mood to fight to win something. A win was a very decisive thing: You either won or you lost. No guessing, reading between the lines, no wondering or worrying or waiting.
Still, the restlessness set in once he wasn’t playing anymore.
As per usual, they all repaired to Pasquale’s for cheap pizza and pitchers, because it was nearest the high school field where they played, and because the hard-core no-frills atmosphere perversely appealed to all of them. That, and the cheap pizza and pitchers.
“Hey, Wade, where’s your ten bucks? Wade!” Gabe bellowed from the order window while the surly employees glared at him.
He glanced over his shoulder.
Wade was frozen and staring straight at the back of the restaurant, and muttering wonderingly to himself. “What the ever loving...”
“Wade, didn’t I tell you not to stare at women with your mouth open? It creeps them out.”
“Dude, it’s not a woman,” Mike said sotto voce. “I’m looking at Jasper Townes.” He held a ten-dollar bill out to Gabe without turning his head away.