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  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.

  “Sure you don’t know her?” Jack teased.

  “Dad, leave it alone.”

  “Can’t help it, pumpkin. An old man has a right to want to see his one and only daughter happy.”

  It was a speech he’d given her before. She didn’t understand it then, and she didn’t understand it now. It’s not like she was unhappy. “I’m happy, Dad.”

  “No, but you could be if you’d unwind a little.”

  Unwind? Like him? Focusing more on finding the happiness in the bottom of a water pipe than on raising her son? No, thanks, not for Angie. “I’m wound just fine.”

  “Angie—”

  “I’m fine,” Angie said firmly. She was done with the conversation. It was useless to discuss something that simply would not change. Angie was determined not to take her focus away from Oliver, and Luna looked too good in leather to be interested in playing house. And she couldn’t forget Luna’s possessive girlfriend, who made it clear she didn’t plan to share.

  Angie tried not to watch Luna for the rest of the game, but couldn’t help but notice when the game ended and Luna walked toward the parking lot with Ruby wrapped around her. They looked good together.

  Angie was sure she and Luna would look better.

  Chapter Four

  Wednesday, July 29

  Oliver dropped a staggering number of bags on the couch in a clump. Jack patted Oliver on the shoulder and went into the kitchen. If total packages were the meter used to judge a trip to the mall, theirs had been successful.

  “You should see what Grandpa got me.” Oliver’s eyes were bright. Recently, he’d spent far too much time with a sullen pout on his face, and Angie was grateful for the change of attitude. She prayed it wasn’t fleeting.

  She sat in the vacant armchair next to the sofa. “Show me.”

  Oliver proudly displayed his treasures—a DVD, a video game, one pair of already torn jeans, several T-shirts, and, oddly enough, a cookie recipe book. Angie had a mixed reaction to her father and son’s shared shopping. One part of her—the mature, mommy part—was excited for her son. How nice that he had such a good time with his grandfather. The other part—the shallow, petty part—was jealous that Oliver had shared yet another moment with her father that Angie had never experienced. Jack had never taken Angie shopping at the mall, or anywhere else, when she was Oliver’s age.

  All her clothes when she was younger came either from Goodwill or the Methodist church. Her father didn’t attend services there, yet the members somehow felt a strange obligation to clothe his child. When she got old enough to work, she did. After that she bought her own outfits. She spent many Saturday nights babysitting so she could afford the perfect outfit for the prom.

  Prom. God, what a disaster. That’s the night she finally said yes to Oliver’s father. The first and last time. It was enough to confirm that she was far more interested in her best friend, Lisa, than in her boyfriend. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how she looked at it—Oliver arrived the requisite nine months later. A lesbian teenage mom. As if her life wasn’t complicated enough with an absentee mother and a father constantly searching for the perfect high. She’d been scrambling to make up for that one night ever since.

  “Need help carrying all this to your room?”

  Oliver kissed her cheek. “No, Mom, I got it.”

  Moments like that melted Angie a little. She loved the glimpses of the sweet boy he was before surly demons took over his personality. Perhaps he would eventually grow out of this Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde stage.

  Angie heard knocking at the kitchen door, then Tori called, “Yoo-hoo, anybody home?” For some reason Tori got a kick out of greeting them like a yokel, which always made Angie smile.

  “In here.”

  Oliver scooped up his packages and headed toward his bedroom as Tori entered the room.

  “What’s that?”

  “Massive loot from my trip to the mall with Grandpa,” Oliver answered with a devious smile.

  “Score.” Tori bumped knuckles with him around his shopping bags before he retreated to his room and closed the door. She settled on the couch, her feet crossed at the ankle and resting on the coffee table.

  That drove Angie nuts. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m happy to see you, too.” Tori tried to glare, but still smiled.

  “Get your feet off my table and then I’ll be happy.”

  Tori left her feet where they were. “I want you to go somewhere with me.”

  “Where?” They had to be at work in two hours, so they didn’t have much time for errands.

  “Coraggio.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need to get laid and there’s a certain tall, dark, and handsome tattoo artist there who would love to accommodate you.”

  Angie snorted. “Right.”

  “Whatever. You can let your vagina grow old alone. Don’t say I didn’t try to help.”

  “Did you actually need something?” To the outside observer, Angie might come across as bitchy. To Tori, she definitely came across that way, but that was part of the fun in their relationship. They expressed their mutual love by being snarky.

  “Seriously, I want to have her check my tattoo. Thought we could stop on our way to work.”

  “Why there?” Angie was skeptical.

  Tori looked at Angie like she was dense. “Because she’s the one that did it.”

  Angie heard the silent duh
at the end of Tori’s sentence.

  “Tori,” Angie spoke slowly, “contrary to your opinion, I’m not looking to get laid. I’m perfectly content with my life as is.” Angie could taste the subtle lie in her statement and didn’t like the texture. She might not be looking for sex from just anyone, but that didn’t mean she would say no if Luna offered.

  “I just want to have her take a look, Angie.” Tori met her gaze and held it. “Really.”

  “Okay.”

  “Besides, have you seen her apprentice? Gorgeous.”

  Suddenly Tori’s persistent request made sense. “So this is really about your desire to get laid?”

  *

  The real-estate listing promised abundant space, low rent, and a semi-decent neighborhood. The odds of getting stabbed in the parking lot were fairly slim, but Luna’s car stereo system might not survive the move. Providing the place wasn’t condemned when they viewed it in person, the location was perfect.

  “This is the one?” Luna asked, but she knew the answer when Perez showed her the paper.

  Perez nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Okay, call the agent.”

  Luna had found the current location for her business. All the difficulties in securing the right place made it that much more special. This was her home. Since opening Coraggio, Luna had grown more attached. Her sense of ownership was no longer linked directly to the building they were standing in, but rather to the very heart of the business. She wanted Perez to feel the same things she had. This was the first step.

  Perez pumped her fist. “All right.” She took the paper and headed toward the phone in the back room.

  It was an overcast day, typical for Portland, even in July. Luna looked out at the gray sky barely visible between the building across the street and the top edge of her window. The weatherman promised more hot days. Luna hoped he was right. She wasn’t ready for summer to be over.

  Two women were huddled on the sidewalk outside her front door. Angie and Tori. Luna smiled at the realization. They appeared to be arguing, and Luna hurried over to let them in. She didn’t flip on the neon Open sign as they didn’t officially start business for another thirty minutes.