Love's Home Run, page 11
He began plotting a way to be first again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The telephone's ring startled Jack out of a dead sleep. Its second ring irritated him, causing him to rise off the pillow. The third ring caused a sharp pain in his still aching head. He and his headache had finally fell asleep minutes before. He was home now, and felt relaxed in his own bed, but the constant phone calls were more disturbing than the hospital.
Jack snatched up the cordless phone on the fifth ring. He had forgotten to cut on the answering machine. He grumbled a hello into the receiver. The voice on the line was soft and unsure. She asked for Jack by his full name. He was pissed, he didn't recognize the voice, and didn't want to be bothered.
“Jack, this is Djuana Pioneer. I hope it's not too late?”
Jack popped up, pain rushed to his forehead. “No, not really.” He looked at the digital clock on the night table. 10:49 was not late at all.
Djuana listened intently. “You sound like you were sleep. Maybe I should call back tomorrow.”
“No, no. I'm up. I was just laying down. I was watching the game.”
Djuana perked. “Yeah, I just came in and caught the tail end of it. How did you like it?”
“It was all right.” Jack hated the game. His replacement, Hector Aponte, broke into the big leagues with two doubles and a home run. Jack cringed when the crowd at Adkins gave the kid a standing ovation.
“Just all right? You say that because you are not playing. Are you feeling better? They showed a replay of the accident. It looked pretty bad, but they say you'll be back soon.”
“I hope so. I feel a lot better, although I still have a slight headache,” Jack leaned an elbow on his pillows. “So, you saw the play, huh? The wall kinda snuck up on me. I had it all the way.
“Sure,” Djuana chuckled.
Jack smiled.
“You watch baseball often?”
Djuana was relaxed, but not comfortable enough to say what she felt. She wanted to tell Jack she hated baseball until she met him. But a better answer came to mind.
“My brother is a big fan.”
“That's good. Does he go to games?”
“Sometimes. His uncles take him sometimes.”
“Well, maybe you can bring him and the two of you can be my guest.”
“Oh, he'd go crazy. He's been asking me about going since I told him...”
Jack could hear the disturbance in her silence. “Are you still upset about that? About how we met?”
“No. To tell the truth, I don't think you did anything. That's why I think about you.”
“Think about me? That's good to hear, because you are all I wonder, dream and think about.”
“What's with you, Jack Newhouse? Are you as nice and sincere as I think you are? Or are you the guy I've read about that sleeps with many women in other cities?”
“Do you want to take the time to find out for yourself?”
“Maybe,” she tested him more.
She wanted to tell him how bored she'd been that night. How she wanted to speak with him ever since she heard about the injury. How she needed a different, unknowing ear.
She began: “Jack, when I heard about you being hurt I felt an urge to call you. You see, that night you made me feel so warm and secure. Then I see you in my store and you make me feel the same way. When you said you had been thinking about me and worried about me, you sounded sincere.”
Jack found himself in unfamiliar territory: A woman was talking to him about her own feelings. Not baseball, not paychecks and not what sex act they would be glad to perform. He was full of questions. He spoke without thinking; the words had been there waiting for Djuana. They continued to discuss favorites, their jobs and families. Djuana surprised him by asking about an article that Kristen wrote in the Sunday paper about his need for a female companion.
“She wrote that? Damn.'' Jack worried about the hundreds of letters he will receive from single women in Oregon.
“Do you really want to get married?''
Jack was happy to reveal how single he was, “I thought I was going to. The last woman I dated dumped me for her ex. I was surprised, but I am kinda happy she did it. Now I can find someone to really love and really love me.”
Djuana became silent. She thought about the stories she had heard from numerous people, including her mother, about Jack and his teammates. She wanted to ask, but felt he would be forced to lie.
Would he lie?
Probably. But it should not matter, she reasoned with herself. When she became his woman, then she would need to know.
She laughed to herself. When she became his woman.
Djuana told of how Dexter hurt her, revealing how she loved him deeply for seven years. She twirled the phone's cord, laying on in bed, between the sheets and staring at the ceiling. She was thinking of how deeply she loved Dexter. She couldn’t envision loving that strongly ever again.
“Is that the man from the night I met you?'' Jack was curious, but hesitant. He didn't want their pleasant conversation to turn because he was being nosey
“Yes. He left me at a restaurant, and I was walking home when I walked in front of your car.''
“He sounds like a real loser.''
“He is, I'm sorry to say.''
“Why?''
“Because I spent seven years trying to make him mine. What a waste.''
“Do you want him back?”
“No. No way.”
“Really?”
“Really. I do miss him sometimes, only because I'm lonely...'' Oops. She patted her forehead with her soft, tight fist.
“But I know I deserve better,” she recovered.
Jack wanted to leap through the phone and make her feel loved.
Djuana did feel exhilarated, though. Both her heart and mind were ablaze. Jack was a wonderful talker with so much to say. He told her peculiar stories that opened an extroverted part of Djuana's soul she had never showed a man.
Dexter, the one man she spent most of her time with, was not fond of her sense of humor. He would tell her to shut up at times she was playful or talkative. Thus, she began to not share thoughts with him.
Jack and Djuana spent nine hours on the phone. Not more than a minute of silence passed between them. Djuana checked the clock when she heard Devon in the bathroom. “Do you realize how long we've been on the phone,” she sat up and noticed the light seeping in the window shades.
“Not really,” Jack looked and was shocked.
“It's almost seven in the morning!”
“I'm sorry. You better go. Don't you have to leave for work soon?”
“I really get up about eight,” Djuana didn't want to hang up. “What about you, how's your head?”
“Lady, your voice has soothed my brain cells.”
“Oh, really,'' Djuana blushed.
“Yep,” Jack's voice had cleared. Djuana liked it hoarse.
“I wish I could see you today. How about lunch?” He asked.
“That's possible. If you can.”
“I don't know why not.”
The two planned to meet at the Galleria for lunch during Djuana's lunch hour. She warned him, though, that they are meeting as friends. Jack agreed.
Both were exhausted and sore from holding the phone for nine hours, yet they were at the same time more alive than ever. Djuana waited less than five minutes before calling Tia and giving her a near word-for-word recount.
As Jack twirled his Pathfinder into a parking spot at the Galleria his cell phone beeped. His heart raced, was she calling to cancel? He snatched up the phone. It was his agent.
“Where are you,” Berger demanded to know.
“The Galleria mall.”
“For what?”
“Lunch.”
Berger blew air through his nose. “Geezus! How fast can you get across town to my office. You can have lunch with me.”
“I could in twenty minutes. But I ain't. I am not breaking this date.”
“Shit. Okay, okay. But we have to talk. It's very important.”
“Shoot. You got seven seconds.”
“Lee has been traded to Buffalo. They want you next. I made a few calls, and Buffalo called me. They want to know if you'll play first if they make the trade.”
Jack's heart dropped. “I am not going to Buffalo.''
“So, first base is out of the question?”
“Berger, you deaf? I ain't going to Buffalo.”
“If you say no to playing first for them, then it won't matter.”
Jack felt the hollow pit in his stomach deepen, a combination of hunger and nerves. He looked up at the Red Dragon's sign.
“I've got to go.”
“Don't worry about it, but we need to meet with Slight and Honeywell real soon.”
“Yeah, hook it up. I'll call you in two hours.”
Djuana sat nervously at a booth in the Red Dragon Chinese restaurant. She had watched the clocks in DeLux's all morning. Now she sat and watched the Red Dragon's clock tick a second past two. She needed a watch since she threw away the diamond timepiece Dexter had bought her.
He'll be here any second, she warned herself. She wondered what more could they discuss after nine hours on the phone; besides her pregnancy. No, not that. She wasn't ready to discuss that. It might scare him away. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her belly. But her belly at that time was not protruding at all. It was well hidden by the oversized, black cotton long-sleeve blouse.
When should I tell him? When would be the right time? Tia told her to tell him that day, at lunch. She would try, she promised Tia. As she sat there awaiting Jack, she planned to control the conversation; letting him know she was not available, but would like his friendship. He would understand. He seemed so nice and refreshing on the phone. He didn't once direct their conversation toward sex.
Then, there he was. Dressed causal, as Djuana had directed, with a yellow rose in his right hand. He wore a two-buttoned, navy blue polo shirt, jeans, sneakers and a navy blue field jacket. He smiled at Djuana, she was already blushing, as the host escorted him over.
Quickly, he took Djuana's hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he handed her the rose.
“That's for allowing me to have lunch with you,” Jack whispered.
Djuana blushed.
“Drinks, Juana?” The Mattrie'D asked.
She looked at Jack, “Would you like anything?”
“Sure, let me get a Bud, and plenty of water.”
Djuana ordered a ginger ale with lemon and the valet disappeared.
“You must come here often,” Jack said.
“Oh, because he called me by my name? We order food about twice a week to the store.”
“So, people call you Juana?”
“Not many. I don't think he can pronounce it with the D. You can if you want to.”
“No. I like Djuana.”
She liked how he pronounced it, with the Juan very prominent. She looked into his face. He was handsome. More so than the pictures she had studied. She liked his dark eyes, full eyebrows and inviting lips. They were rounded, not big, and soft. She recalled his light kiss on her knuckles minutes before and unconsciously licked her lips. A sprinkle of goose bumps covered her body.
“Since this is your hangout, what do you suggest?'' Jack said. Looking down at the menu, Jack could feel Djuana giving him the once over.
A long kiss, she wished she had nerve to say. Instead she giggled.
“Something wrong?” Jack asked. “Do I have a hair out of place or something.” He patted his low-cut fade.
“No. Not at all.” She continued to giggle.
A different waiter brought water, Jack's beer and Djuana's soda. He also took their order. Jack let Djuana order for him. She was delighted and made a quick choice. How many times had she wanted to order for Dexter just to be different?
Jack glanced at Djuana. Why is this woman single? he wondered. He looked at her black blouse; nothing was revealed. Then he looked over her hairstyle.
Quietly, leaning over to her, he said, “I like your hair that way.” he remembered the wide, soft, bright rust curls that were drenched and hanging down her face the night he first saw her. Now Djuana's hair was auburn brown with a mid-length bob, coaxed from her crown into a super smooth drop, covering her ears and reaching her neck.
Djuana thanked him. Omar, the bus driver, had said the same exact words hours before, yet neither as calmly or sincerely as Jack did.
“How's your head,” she asked. She was trying to be in control. Keep him from noticing her nerves, or the baby.
“It's much better. I took the horse pills the Doc gave me, and took a nap this morning.”
“That's good. I want to thank you for coming out here. I know you probably had things to do.” She tried not to smile, but did.
“It's my pleasure. I am serious about wanting to get to know you. It starts with spending time with you.”
“Yeah.”
Damn, he's making it hard to keep to the script, her forehead wrinkled as she studied her glass. She twirled her straw. Tell him, her conscience nudged. But she feared he would upturn the table and dash out the door. Why would a major league baseball star, making millions, want to date a pregnant woman. Pregnant by an asshole. He would run out the door.
Suddenly a penny bounced on the table near Djuana. “If your thoughts are more expensive, I'll pay.”
She had to smile. He is something else. “I was just thinking about something,” she finally said as the food came.
Saved.
“I figured you were thinking. But what about so deeply. Am I boring you?”
“No. When we get to know each other better, I'll have plenty to tell you,” Djuana said as she spread soy sauce over her chow mien.
Jack was apprehensive. “Are you married to this guy you told me about last night?”
“No,” Djuana was startled. “I am not married. Where did that come from?”
“Your ring,” Jack pointed to her left hand. He wanted to touch the hand, hold it. On the ring finger was an onyx in a thin gold setting.
“You’re kidding me?” She laughed heartily. The ring, something she was sure Jack wouldn't buy for a child, was a Christmas gift from Dexter two years ago. That fall she had been nagging him about getting married.
The ring, Dexter explained was a ‘‘Friends Forever'' bond. She liked it, but not for what it symbolized. Putting it on every morning had been become a devoted part of her daily routine.
“Well, it is on that finger.”
“No, Jack. I am far from being married.”
She noticed his gold chain, a simple herringbone, and decided to pick on him. “That's a nice chain,” she commented.
“It's cute.”
“Cute?” Jack laughed.
“Oh, I'm sorry,” she deepened her voice. “That's manly, Dude.” She laughed a hearty giggle. To Jack it seemed a bit much, but it was refreshing to Djuana.
“Oh, boy. It feels so good to laugh again.”
Jack's grin dimmed. It had been more than a year since Vivian gave him the chain for his birthday. He touched it, and planned to get rid of it that night.
He watched Djuana for a few seconds, thinking of the correct way to ask her about the night they met. He had an idea it was a man that sent her into the mood she was in at the time. He left that thought alone, observing her eat was a warming sight.
Her hands and mouth never stopped moving, yet with respectful manners. She kept her napkin handy and wiped her lip quickly between fork visits. Djuana devoured her food, and most of their appetizer, within minutes.
“You were hungry,” Jack finally said.
Djuana looked down at her spotless plate and small portion left on the serving platter. Then she saw he had barely touched his food. She sipped the last of her soda.
“Yeah, I was. I didn't have breakfast because I didn't want to seem like one of those conceited women who only have salads.”
Djuana had eaten hearty that morning, and she had two candy bars while working.
The sudden appearance of a pretty woman and a bright-eyed young boy startled Djuana.
The lady excused her and the boy, then turned to Jack and said, “Mr. Newhouse, my son is a big fan and he wants to know if you would sign this for him?”
She handed Jack a small piece of paper.
Jack glanced at Djuana as he took the paper and pen. She seemed uptight.
“I'm sorry about this.” He asked the boy his name and signed: Always strive to be the best.
Djuana was speechless. She was impressed, and at the same time in awe of her lunch mate. She enjoyed how careful he was with the youngster, and respectful to the parent. When they walked away, thanking her also, she finally spoke.
“You are really something else. I know you must have thousands of fans.”
“I hope so,'' Jack grinned. “But thanks for your patience, anyway. You know, I hate when that happens. I hope it didn't bother you too much. I have to tell you, it’s a part of what I am.”
“No problem, no bother to me. Hey, it's you they want.”
“Yeah, but it's you it will probably bother more. But I promise, if we do get together like I hope we will, we will have plenty of privacy. I have learned how.”
“Really.” She wanted to question him about the getting together statement, but held off. She imagined sitting through a baseball game, yuck! “I have to admit something, though, I am not that crazy about baseball.''
“That's all right,” Jack replied knowingly.
His answer seemed dry. She quickly blurted, “I'll be glad to learn if you teach me.”
Jack was pleased with the compromise, “Sure. I'd like that. And I'd like to see you at some games.”
Djuana smiled.
Jack had to bring up marriage again. He had was intrigue by the fact that such an attractive African-American woman hadn't been snatched up. He ate a forkful of Egg Foo Young, then sipped ice water.
“Tell me something, why isn't a beautiful young lady like yourself married?”
“Thank you. My mother asks me the same question every single day. I just can't answer that.”
“Do you want to be?”
Djuana took a second to think. The answer was obvious to her, but should she tell him? He is a well-to-do baseball player, women have probably been trying to hook him into marriage for years. Would he understand the answer? She looked him in the eye, one of the few times that afternoon, and said, “I would like to someday. If I met the right person.”
