Lovesick Braves Page 4

  "No," Theo said. "If they bust their heads, I would be in big trouble."

  Ester nodded, her expression serious. Her eyes drifted back out to the dance floor.

  "Do I want to know why you have your own bus?" he asked.

  Those gorgeous dark eyes met his again. "We know each other from the Crooked Rock Urban Indian Center. The bus belongs to the center."

  "Urban Indian center?"

  "We provide services for Indians who live in the city. Healthcare referrals, elder assistance, some cultural activities. Our office is on campus until we get a permanent location."

  "On campus? I've never heard of it," Theo said.

  "Clearly our outreach program is a total failure," Ester said.

  Theo couldn't help smiling. "Well, I don't get around much."

  "Yeah, well, there have been complications with the center. Funding. Location. Long story."

  "Sounds like it," he said. He imagined Ester coming on to him. A coy smile, a roundabout invitation with clear meaning. He would follow her to her place, a small apartment like his with solid color, practical sheets on the bed. She'd push him down and climb on top of him, that sexy smile never leaving her face.

  Ester didn't come across as the one-night stand type.

  "Urban Indian center is your day job?" he asked.

  "Manager of health programs, slash, class clown," Ester said.

  He glanced up to see Fran frantically waving him over.

  "Sorry, Shoshone. Gotta run."

  He spotted the problem right away. A couple of guys in standoff mode in front of the bar. They weren't throwing punches yet, but they wanted the other to think that could happen. Theo said nothing. He sidled into view and stood there. They made a point of eyeing him and then each other again, before backing down and ducking their heads to their group of friends. One left the club with his group, so he didn't bother following the other one.

  "No one breaks up a fight like you," Fran said. She gestured for him to come closer. "We're picking up burgers and having a beer at Pete's after closing. You coming?"

  "Not tonight," he said. There was a group that often got together to unwind after a Friday shift. He had joined them a few times, but he wasn't up for it tonight. "I got school projects in the morning and I have a couple moving jobs."

  "You can always change your mind," Fran said.

  "You still doing my interview?" he asked.

  She made a face but nodded, then side-stepped to her spot to take a drink order.

  The rest of the evening passed with the usual amount of drunken incidents and lovers' spats. Shortly before last call, Pete swapped with him again and he returned to sit at the door. They turned people away unless they were tracking down a friend or lost something in the club. The latest part of the night had the potential to be the strangest but on the nights when things stayed calm, he liked the way things wound down.

  Ester's group burst out, rowdy and loud like people who had a fun night out. Ester raised her eyebrows and gave him a wave as she walked by.

  She was a few steps down the street when he called out, "Ester, I want to ask you something."

  The entire group stopped. Ester looked back at him, but he wasn't sure what her expression meant.

  "There's a frybread feed on campus next week. You have lunch with me?"

  Ester froze.

  Her friend Rayanne called out, "She'd love to."

  Theo gave her a tight smile. "I'll wait for Ester to answer."

  Rayanne made an ooh face at Ester and urged the group to keep walking.

  Ester stepped closer. "Okay." She could hardly look at him. "Where should I meet you?"

  "Campus longhouse. If it's cold, I'll meet you inside."

  "Okay," she repeated.

  "Goodnight, Ester."

  "Goodnight." She hurried to catch up with her friends.

  A couple of regulars came out to say goodnight. One of them leaned on him and put her chin on his shoulder. The other wrapped her hand around his arm.

  "You going to Pete's?" the one huddled against him asked.

  "Not tonight," he said, trying to sound regretful. He leaned back and gently shrugged her off.

  "You have other plans?" the arm holder asked.

  "Sleep. I have a lot to do tomorrow. Goodnight, ladies," he said, urging them back inside.

  He watched the bus pull out and drive off into the night.

  6

  Linda Bird read the email for the third time.

  The Native American Tribal Government meeting is at the convention center and coming up soon. We need something to tell our story. Not just the usual talk. Something.

  What did Arnie mean by something?

  Something crazy like burlesque? she wrote and just as quickly deleted.

  Something like, reenact the Dances with Wolves tatanka scene? Backspace. Backspace.

  I'm good at the usual talk, she wrote. But she deleted that, too.

  Arnie Jackson had joined the urban Indian center's board of director's only months earlier but he managed to be a consistent pain in the ass. At first she thought they worked well together but since she'd successfully pleaded for one more year to get this vision of hers off the ground, their relationship had grown strained.

  Linda believed the problem came from too many people giving her input and no one trusting her judgment. The board asked her to do everything at once rather than solve one problem at a time.

  Their biggest problem was location. They'd busted their tails putting together a deal to buy a building. They had contracts and funding in place, but the city backed off. She needed a clear answer so she could decide how to move forward. Instead, the board had her applying for grants, talking to potential employees, giving speeches at meetings, and visiting every entity that might be a fundraising opportunity. She couldn't accomplish anything when she was running around.

  I'll work on it with the staff, she typed and hit send.

  She crossed her arms and put her head on her desk.

  "Knock, knock," someone called from the door.

  She sat up. "Why, it's Audra, the attorney with a heart of gold."

  "It's impossible for an attorney to have a heart of gold," Audra said.

  "Thanks for the warning. This is a public facility, you don't have to knock."

  Audra came in and sat down next to her. She gave a mock-admiring look around the room. "Love what you've done with the place. Open work space. None of this cubicle business."

  Linda tried to laugh. She was the executive director of a non-profit organization that months earlier had been on the verge of moving into its own permanent home. Now her group was crammed into a single room at City College, a cluster of desks pushed together in the center of the room.

  "They offered to let us borrow some of those dinky student work stations. They were so depressing we said no. If we need privacy, we take our cellphones and go outside. If it's cold, we talk fast."

  "You're lucky your staff is loyal," Audra said, admiring the stacks of boxes.

  "For now. Welcome to the Crooked Rock Urban Indian Center. What took you so long to visit?"

  "The usual—working, teaching, living it up in the high glamour world of Indian law. I stopped by on a whim. I thought you would have gone home by now."

  Linda and Audra had met years earlier when Audra was fresh out of law school and wanting to volunteer some time to tribal organizations in town. Linda had always admired Audra, who worked tough hours and pulled off an effortlessly casual look like the magazines talked about. She had her dark curly hair pulled back off her face and wore a business suit that made her look like an attorney on a TV program.

  Linda wore a droopy skirt with a salsa stain from lunch. "I operate under the delusion if I put in enough time, I can fix it all. It never works out that way."

  "Not an uncommon delusion. How is our former mentor? She still keeping her fingers in the mix?" Audra referred to Linda's predecessor, Margie, an elder who had retired months earlier with he
alth issues.

  "She's a lean mean fighting machine. My dream is to be that together when I'm her age. She has live-in care so she can stay at home. She lends me an ear when I need to vent but she's letting me sink this ship on my own. Which is why I have to ask if you're here with bad news for me?" Audra had saved her ass by talking the college into letting them use this room, but from day one the college made it clear it was temporary. "Is our time here at good old Harney Hall ending?"

  "Not that I know of," Audra said. "I'm not in charge of facilities but I think you're in the clear until the end of the quarter—maybe even the school year. If worse comes to worst, we can set up a tent in the parking lot."

  "A tent or a teepee?"

  Audra laughed. "No word from the city?"

  "They could avoid us easily during the holidays but I'm back on it with gently escalating persistence. Margie helped me track down Paul Douglas. He was the guy who set up the Chief Building deal the city canceled. After he retired, he and his wife wintered in Spain. I wonder if I'll ever winter anywhere. He's back in town and coming to meet with us. We'll get the story and get the deal back on track."

  Linda shut down her computer and piled everything on her desk into a single stack. "Would you like a mission?"

  "I am plenty busy. What kind of mission?"

  "I need clothing advice. I was thinking about walking through the mall to check out the sales."

  "Special occasion?"

  "I need something new. All I wear are dumpy long skirts, often flecked with lunch."

  Audra smiled. "I'll tag along if it means saving you from dumpy skirts."

  They took an escalator to the upper level. The bright lights and shiny fixtures of the department store promised more than clothing could deliver. Linda caught sight of herself in one mirror after the other; the entire place was made of reflective surfaces. Her underlying framework was still strong, but she'd grown lax on minding the details.

  "He tosses out projects with no concept of how things work," Linda said, meaning Arnie. "An open house. A mass mailing. More, bigger social media. A detailed reference of every funding source under the sun for him to review and mark-up so we can direct our efforts."

  "That's not an uncommon management style," Audra said.

  "Now he's directed me to do something for NATG. Like he's had this great idea: we need something. My job is to come up with something. What does he think I do? Every minute of my life I'm thinking of something."

  They arrived in the professional women's-wear section. Linda said, "You can never mention this to Rayanne. She's the one who suggested my wardrobe needed help."

  "Why not bring her with you?"

  "She'd have me in a skintight minidress and towering high heels and those tights that hold your gut in."

  "For the office?"

  "She's in love. She thinks everyone needs to be in love. She suggested I'm too dowdy. Or frumpy. I can't remember the word she used."

  "You aren't even close to dowdy or frumpy but a, uh, more streamlined look never hurt anyone," Audra said.

  "How diplomatic. Fine, take her side," Linda said, ignoring the display of neutral-colored work skirts and heading straight for a rack of flowy long skirts. "I'm allowed to look." She held up a skirt of the same color and material as the one she had on. "What would you do? We had a deal to buy a building. All the reports and environmental tests. Numerous packets of paperwork. The city pulled out and they're dragging their feet about even talking to us. What are our options? Stand at the front of city hall and throw rocks?"

  Audra put the skirt back and led Linda over to a rack of dresses.

  "Throwing rocks wouldn't get you far. Why not threaten to sue?"

  "Arnie says no lawsuits. Too expensive. Only the lawyers win. Don't want to create the impression we're a litigious organization."

  "Do you have to run everything by Arnie?"

  "We've known each other a long time and have a lot of respect for each other," Linda said, wondering if it were still true. It felt like Arnie was pushing her into a corner and then blaming her for the problems it caused.

  "You'd be surprised what a sternly worded letter can shake loose," Audra said.

  "We can ask him again." She held up a long-sleeved gray sweater-dress. "Rayanne would force me to try this."

  Audra smiled and took it from her. "Good idea. Who is Rayanne in love with?"

  "Arnie's nephew, Henry. Another one of Arnie's forced orders. We had to hire him. I guess it worked out okay." She moved to another rack and searched for her size.

  "Didn't you have a thing for him in college?"

  "Arnie?" A pang of something—embarrassment?—stung in her belly.

  "Schoolgirl crush, perhaps," she admitted. "We were friends. We're still friends, but now he's the boss."

  Audra held up a navy-blue sheath dress. Linda made a face.

  "You could wear it with a cardigan. This screams sexy professional. Try it on."

  Linda took the dress. "We work well together."

  "You're still talking about Arnie?" Audra said, a touch of a smile on her lips.

  "If you let me finish, the problem is me. I always envisioned myself as a leader and here I am, everything I touch turns to crap. I'm always reacting. I can't seem to make anything happen."

  "You inherited a mess," Audra said. "The board can't expect you to turn it around overnight."

  "I've been working on this longer than overnight. Maybe this won't happen, I'm not the one who can do it."

  Linda turned to the closest mirror and held up another sheath dress, this one with a sunny yellow pattern. "I'd get toner on it the first time I wore it."

  Audra put the dress with the others. "Perhaps you need more time. Let's talk about something else. Are you seeing anybody?"

  "Nice segue," Linda said. She took the dresses and found the changing room. Audra sat on a stool outside.

  "When? I never meet anyone. I see the same people and no one is date material," Linda said.

  "Is Arnie seeing anyone?"

  Linda strained to understand what she meant with the question. "Are you asking for you or for me?"

  "Just wondering."

  "I think he sees lots of people." She waited but Audra didn't say more. She stepped out of her skirt and studied her reflection. "Why do changing rooms have such terrible lighting? I look sallow and lumpy."

  "Try on the blue one I picked out. There's no way it isn't flattering. I have someone for you to meet. He's an attorney I work with sometimes. He's Native, one of those California rancherias. I forget which one."

  "Go on," Linda said.

  "He's super nice."

  "You mean he wears patterned sweaters?"

  "He's sharp and great at his job."

  "You mean he knows lots of big words and never fails to return his shopping cart to the store, even in the rain. Your omission of a remark about his appearance doesn't bode well. What's wrong with him?"

  Linda zipped up the blue dress. Audra was right. She didn't usually pick outfits so formfitting, but the cut was flattering. The material had give and wouldn't be uncomfortable at the office. She stepped out of the dressing room.

  "It's perfect. Rayanne will approve," Audra said.

  "I like it, too. I'm trying the sweater-dress." She returned to the changing room.

  "He's attractive. Not leading man, but his face has character."

  "Cartoon character?"

  "No. He's a regular guy. Easy to talk to."

  "If he's so great, why is he available?" Linda wiggled into the gray dress.

  "You're great, why are you available?" Audra said.

  "Because I work too much and I'm flawed," Linda said.

  "You're not flawed. You're complex. He's kind of quiet," Audra said.

  "You see me with someone quiet?"

  "Not really. But ten minutes ago you complained you never meet anyone. How about a coffee date? Assuming I can convince him to go on one."

  "What do you mean convince?" Linda
said.

  "Ambitious Ind'n woman, often late and over-extended, runs a non-profit and thinks grant-writing is fun. You're not an easy sell either."

  Linda came out to model the sweater-dress.

  "That one's cute, too. But the skirt is sort of baggy."

  "I like the other one better," Linda agreed. "What's his name?"

  "Virgil Harris."

  "I'd always envisioned falling for a Virgil. I'll meet him," Linda said.

  7

  Ester inhaled a scent like a heated bucket of sour cheese. "Did something die in here?" she asked.

  Linda came away from the microwave with a folded bundle wrapped in a napkin. She dropped a steaming knot of orange-tinged bread that was leaking an acidy orange sauce onto a paper plate.

  "You mean this hot Italian roll?"

  "You're spoiling my appetite," Ester said.

  "Don't like it, don't eat it," Linda said. She took a big bite and then fanned her mouth.

  "No frybread?" Rayanne asked.

  Linda pointed at her computer.

  "You don't want to see Ester's date?"

  "I'd love to. Bring him by," Linda said.

  "Not happening," Ester said, her eyes glued to the screen. For the first time, someone had shown up on her spy-cam footage and that someone was Tommy. According to the timestamp, he'd arrived after nine. He’d gone to his desk and sat in front of his computer with his feet up for a couple of hours, then left. No clue what he was up to. She shut the program and saved it to a password-protected folder until she figured out what to do.

  Her eyes drifted to the time. Her date with Theo was at 11:45. She'd never been so mindful of the clock.

  "It's pouring again," Rayanne said, coming away from the window.

  "It does that," Ester said.

  Rayanne came to stand behind her. She combed Ester's hair between her fingers as if that would do any good. "Did you buy the products I recommended?"

  "I did," Ester said. "It's weird, I can't find them. I must have spaced out and put them in a weird place like in a box of old books or a coat pocket."

  Linda said, "I've done that. Once I was so tired, I left the TV remote in the refrigerator."

  Ester caught another whiff from Linda's monstrosity and her stomach flipped. The drawback of waiting days to see Theo again was she'd accumulated a lot of nerves.