Joey

Batter Up

 

Patrick responded in the middle of the night, our time, with the location of my spare key. By the time I was out of bed this morning, the key had magically appeared on the counter with a note from Theo.

Stumbling into the kitchen, I poured a mug of coffee before picking both up.

The note reads:

Your key, madam. I had to head to an early audition. Woody’s been fed. May need to go outside. Would you mind?

Thanks. Hope to see you later.

Theo

I glance down at the wiggly dog at my feet and sigh.

“Why are all the good one’s either taken or batting for the other team, Woods? It’s so unfair.”

The dog obviously doesn’t care much about my love life and circles around by the door before he plops his butt down and sits, staring up at me with expectant brown eyes, hoping to win me over with his cute puppy dog face.

“Really, dude? I just got out of bed,” I grumble, taking a final swig of the coffee before placing it in the sink. “Let me go get dressed and then we’ll swing by my place first. Then we’ll go to the park. How’s that?”

Woody does another wiggly dance and I can’t help but smile. Damn dog.

We head over to my place where I change into shorts and a t-shirt and my running shoes, and make our way down to the street. The summer heat is fairly tolerable this morning and feels actually cool. Not bad for this time of year. Come July, even Hell will feel like a vacation destination.

Woody and I begin walking through the neighborhood, passing the charming shops and coffee houses, where people mill about. It makes me wonder how Theo is doing with his audition and wonder if it’s with that theater company he was talking about last night.

I didn’t mean to be a snoopy-snooperson when I began reading his play last night, but it was right there on the coffee table taunting me. I couldn’t sleep a wink, and tossed and turned for several hours – both from the heat and knowing I was sleeping next door to a very hot man. I could literally feel the zaps of electricity charging through my amped body after he got me flustering from dinner and wine.

Regardless of his sexuality, he’s still a very sexy man and left me a little breathless at bedtime.

So instead of remaining restless and unable to sleep, I got out of bed and wandered into the living room, in search of something to occupy my brain. And there it was, sitting open for me to pluck off the table and into my greedy hands.

I was sucked in from the very first scene and page. His characters are laugh-out-loud funny and their romantic build up was enough to have my itty-bitty parts tingling. I can’t imagine what it would look like all played out for a live audience.

As I round the street corner, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. The park is in sight and I know Woody is anxious to get there because his whole body flails and wiggles with anticipation.

“I know, buddy. I know. Just hold your horses for a minute,” I mutter, pulling the phone out to check the caller ID.

My legs stop moving and the leash jerks as my arm flies out with the force of Woody’s momentum coming to an abrupt halt.

It’s April calling. While we don’t talk too often outside of school, we have on occasion grabbed coffee or brunch together on the weekends. So it’s not all that surprising to hear from her.

I give Woody a brief look of apology before answering the call. “Hi April. How’s it going?”

It’s then that I hear a sob on the other end of the phone line. My heart rate spikes and my adrenalin pumps into my veins as I jump into panic mode.

“April? Are you okay? What’s the matter?”

She hiccups on the line, takes a breath and then seems to gain her composure.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Joey…but I don’t know who else to talk to.”

Oh God, if she’s calling for relationship advice, she’s called the wrong friend. The last relationship I had was when I was in college and was really only a three-month investment. There was no undying love professed or commitment involved, aside from offering to share our lecture notes.

“What is it, hun? Is everything okay with you and Tanner?”

She pauses with an intake of air. “Tanner? What do you mean? We’re totally fine. It’s nothing like that.”

“Mm-kay.”

Now I’m really confused.

“It’s my bridesmaids’ dresses. They’re hideous. They were supposed to be a nice lavender color and they came out a weird shade of purple! In fact, they look like something Barney puked up.”

I nearly laugh but tamp it down out of respect for April. But what a folly. Aren’t these things part of the whole wedding process? Even best laid plans and all of that.

Maybe I know nothing about wedding planning, but I’ve already been in a few of my high school friends’ weddings. Bridesmaids’ dresses are supposed to be ugly. That’s the point of them so the other women don’t upstage the bride. So unless I’m an idiot, I don’t get the problem.

In fact, last fall I was in my BFF’s wedding on Halloween weekend and she made us wear orange taffeta. There is nothing uglier than that.

“April, I think I’m missing something here. Why can’t you just call the dress shop and have them returned and exchanged? I’d think they’d guarantee your sale and want to ensure the bride is happy.”

Woody is getting anxious and begins to pace frantically in front of me, trying to convince me to get a move on. We’re just at the crosswalk and I look both ways and we head across the street to the small, tree-lined park. Just up around the kids playground there’s a small fenced area that was created as an off-leash doggie play area. I open the gate, bend to let Woody off his leash and feel my smile grow as he runs off chasing another dog.

April’s dilemma seems unfortunate but not unfixable.

“That’s my problem,” she laments. “I ordered them on close-out to save money and they said all sales are final.”

“Oh, that sucks.” Not sure what to say in this situation.

“But I was hoping you’d call the company for me and see if you can get them to exchange them for me.”

My footsteps falter. She wants me to do what, now?

“I’m sorry, come again?”

She heaves a sigh. “Remember last semester where you went up against the school board to fight the dress code for teachers?”

Of course I remember that. It was this old, archaic policy that required female teachers to wear business attire in the classroom and no jeans were allowed. It made absolutely no sense why we weren’t allowed to wear more comfortable clothing. So I took a stand, started a petition and fought for our freedom of dress. It seemed logical and reasonable.

But I would never have considered me to be any type of crusader or someone that raised the rally cry. That’s not my usual MO. I’m typically the one hiding in the back, head down, going with the majority so as not to rock the boat. I think that’s my mother’s doing. She’s always been a force to be reckoned with and not one I could easily go up against to get my way.

But maybe others see me differently because here’s my friend, looking for my assistance because she thinks I am some kind of protesting hero.

“Oh geez. I don’t know, April. That was a one-time thing. I’m not usually that outspoken.”

“Sure you are. You put that student’s parent in their place when they were berating their kid in front of the entire graduating class last spring. You’re badass with your words, Joey. And I would be so grateful if you could at least try for me. Please.”

This gives me pause as I consider the incidents April has reminded me of when I fought for injustice. Those are times I’ll come out of my born-to-be-polite mid-west shell and confront the opposition to get justice served and to give some hell.

Huh. Maybe I am a little badass-y.

I just wish I had a little more of that when it came to getting what I wanted out of a man.