Rushed(46)

“How much to rent your ball for ten minutes?” Tyler asks. “How about five bucks?”

The six boys confer silently, then turn back. “Five bucks each, and you sign Goose's backpack. It's his ball,” one of them says, obviously recognizing Tyler.

“Deal,” Tyler says, pulling out his wallet. “I trust you guys can divvy it up yourselves? I don't have six five dollar bills.”

The boys take the ten and twenty and nod, handing over the ball. “Yeah, no problem, we’ll be back with a pen for the sig.”

Tyler takes the ball and bounces it a few times, checking it out. “Deal.”

He turns and passes the ball to me, not with the amount of pep he puts on a football, but still with enough that I have to get my hands up quickly.

I dribble a little, getting the feeling back slowly, enjoying the hollow rubber sound of the bounce. It's been too long. I take a few shots, then toss Tyler an alley-up pass that he dunks.

“Whoa . . . nice dunk man!”

“Thanks. You guys get the pen?”

“Yeah, and my big brother wanted to come along too,” one of the boys said. I turned and my blood goes to ice as I see Thomas along with the boys. I thought that boy looked familiar. I hadn't been around his little brother much, they're really far apart in age, but Thomas . . . hasn't changed much in six years. A little more grizzled, but still the same basic face.

“Thomas . . .” I whisper, backing up fearfully. I bump into Tyler, who takes my shoulders and I utter a little scream.

“What's wrong?” he whispers. “Who’s that?”

“That's Thomas,” I whisper, my eyes full of fear. I glance back, and I can tell he's recognized me, too. “Please, let’s just go?”

Tyler studies my face for a moment, then nods. He looks up at the boys and holds up his hands. “Just a moment, guys. My lady's not feeling too well, so if y'all don't mind, I'll sign and we’ll take off, that cool?”

Goose, who has the backpack, nods and runs up. “Here. Thanks, man.”

Tyler takes the marker and the backpack and scribbles on the side quickly, with no personalization at all. “No problem. Thanks for the ball.”

“What, no hello?” Thomas asks as soon as Goose has his bag, sneering. “I knew you were stupid, but you were at least polite.”

“We don't need this shit,” Tyler whispers, capping the marker and handing it back to Goose, who's gone the color of milk. “Come on.”

Putting his arm around my shoulders, Tyler leads me away, but Thomas won't let it go. “Hey! You're not going to introduce me to your sugar daddy? Hi, I'm Thomas, the guy who taught her how to f*ck, not that she's any good at it.”

Tyler stops, and I take his hand. “Don’t. Don't get into trouble.”

Tyler looks me in the eyes, and shakes his head. “No, it's not okay.”

He turns and walks back toward Thomas, a false grin on his face. Thomas is a bully, and isn't expecting anyone to stand up to him, but still he's obviously got his reputation to maintain in the neighborhood, so he doesn't quite back down yet. “You really want some, Yankee boy? I already got everything I wanted outta her.”

“From what I heard, you go the other way now,” Tyler replies. “Oh, you think I didn't know? I bet you got used to being someone’s bitch while you were in jail.”

Tyler's goading him, and it works. Thomas throws the first punch, but being a neighborhood tough guy is nothing compared to a professional athlete, and Tyler catches him with a punch to the gut that doubles him over before nailing him with a right cross that drops him.

Tyler backs away, but someone's already called the cops, and in this part of London the cops respond quickly. A siren bleeps, and rotating blue lights flash in the afternoon light, a cop getting out of his cruiser already. Tyler looks, and shakes his right hand, where I can see two knuckles busted open. “Shit.”



“Thanks for posting bail.”

“You're my boyfriend, and you were sticking up for me. There's no way that I couldn’t.”

“Still, to get arrested,” Tyler groans as he climbs into the Mustang. “Coach is going to be pissed.”

“Most likely, but I think he’ll understand. You didn't throw the first punch.”

“Yeah, but I wasn't deescalating either. You know I was egging the guy on.”

“He deserved it,” I say flatly as I get in as well. “Now, let's go back to the hotel. It's a little late.”

We drive back, and up in the room Tyler lays down, his forearm over his eyes. “Coach is going to f*cking kill me.”

“Yet you don't sound like you regret what you did,” I say, lying down next to him. I lean over and kiss Tyler on the lips, gentle and loving. “I was touched by what you did. You took my bogeyman and chopped him down to size.”

“Then I have no regrets,” Tyler says, taking his hand off his face and turning to me.

We kiss again, coming together in slow little increments, taking our time. When his hand comes up to rest on my breast again over my shirt, I chuckle. “Chocolate and batteries.”

“You said that before. What’s that mean?”

“It was the closest thing I could come up with back then to explain to myself how you made me feel when you touched me. Sweet and electric, chocolate and batteries.”