The Drafter

“What?” Silas said, knowing his jacket and jeans were coarse next to her polished sophistication, but where Peri could get away with silk and linen at a ballpark, he couldn’t.

A faint smile quirked her lips to erase a worry line. “Content.”

Content? She thinks I look content? Flustered, he watched as her eyes lifted to the stands, and another level of tension was rubbed out by the announcer’s patter and a stanza of music from the organ. It was the sound of summer, and it eased over him like the sun.

“Hot dog with mustard, no ketchup?” he said as he eagerly proffered the box.

“How …,” she started, eyes lighting up as she reached for it. “My diary?” she asked drily.

“Lucky guess this time,” he lied.

“Sure it is,” she said as she took it, startling Silas when her fingers brushed his.

It was how she liked them, and he couldn’t help but watch her unwrap it, her eyes closing as she took a bite. Her mmmm of pleasure sent a shiver through him, and he warmed when she noticed, eyeing him askance as she chewed and swallowed.

“Me eating a hot dog makes you happy?” she questioned as she wiped the corner of her mouth with a pinky, and he felt himself flush deeper. “You’re an easy date.”

“Beautiful woman, beautiful day. What’s not to like?” he fumbled, turning his attention to his own dog and trying not to look like a dork.

Peri sighed, but it wasn’t a bad sound. “Silas, I’m not stupid.”

He took a bite, glancing sideways at her. “I said you were beautiful, not stupid. Despite what popular media would have you believe, they are not mutually inclusive.”

“I mean, we’ve done this before.”

Shocked, he turned to face her. “You remember?”

“No, but you do. I’ve never seen you this relaxed.”

“Funny how not having a gun pointed at you does that,” he said.

“So …” She eyed him mischievously. “Were we like boyfriend-girlfriend?”

He choked on his hot dog. “Ask me tomorrow,” he managed, feeling his neck go red.

“I might not remember you tomorrow.” She crossed her knees. “Yesterday you followed me from Allen’s apartment,” she said as she put her dog down and reached for a water. “Knew exactly where to take me so I’d relax and maybe give you something you wanted.”

His mouth went dry; he felt as if everything was unraveling. “It’s not like that. I’m not manipulating you.”

“Yes you are.” She tried to open her water, but it wouldn’t budge. “You’re doing it now. Meeting me at the ballpark. Taking me to Mules. I love Mules. Reminding me of my favorite coffee. I’d be angry except I have the feeling that you’re doing it for you as much as me.”

“I am not!” he protested, but it sounded lame even to him.

“I’m willing to overlook it,” she said as she gave up on the water and handed it to him. “But I want to know if you’re doing it because you want to or because you have to?”

Discomfited, Silas cracked it for her. “What does your gut say?”

She took the bottle back, looking out over the field in silence. “Ask me tomorrow,” she finally said. Sighing, she took a sip of water and set it down. “Howard has good news, yes?”

Silas cringed. He couldn’t look at her, angry at himself, at Fran. Peri couldn’t have known what that chip was. But even he had to admit the likelihood that Opti was using her even now.

“Not good news,” Peri amended, her eyes empty of recrimination.

“Can’t you let me enjoy even half an inning?” he grumbled.

Peri picked her dog back up. “You have until I’m done with this bodacious hot dog. Mmmm, you don’t mess with the dog.”

Silas settled back but the mood was broken. For a moment, they were both silent as the art of the game stole over them, of science and muscle, of physics and psychology.

“I remember coming here with my dad,” Peri said, eyes on the field. “He taught me the game from the stands. The original park at the corner. My mom thought the park was filthy, and she didn’t like the new boxes either, so that was kind of the end of it after he died.”

Silas hunched, straightening when his jacket pulled. “Sorry to hear that.”

Lips twisted into a smile, she looked at him and adjusted his hat. “But I’m here now, with you, Mr. Tomorrow.”

Silas’s jaw clenched. Her smile was perfect, the sun making her skin glow and her eyes vivid. He wanted to bring it all back, every little thing. But there was nothing left. Allen had wiped it all away. And he had helped.

I should have told her that I loved her, he thought, breath shallow. Maybe then she would have had a choice. But he’d hidden his love, giving her no choice but the one that Allen offered. And who wouldn’t have chosen glory over an empty apartment? He was a fool, and all he could do now was try to give her the knowledge to save herself.

“You okay?” Peri asked, the sun glinting on the tips of her thick black hair.

“Fine,” he said tightly, eyeing the park’s drones. They were low-Q and harmless, but he didn’t like how easy it would be to slip a high-Q, facial-recognition one among them. “How is Jack doing? Is he here?”

Peri cast about as she wiped her fingers on a napkin. “No,” she said, sounding surprised. “And that makes you happy because …,” she prompted.