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CHAPTER TWO
Christy
I finish my last client and head to my sister, Sasha’s, house. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have her to watch over Nolan while I was at work. She runs a day care out of her house, and even though she refuses to let me pay her, I at least got her to allow me to cut her family’s hair at no charge in exchange.
I enter the code she has on her gate that leads to the cottage she has in the back, where her day care is run. Kids greet me as they chase each other around the massive backyard she’s made into their kid heaven.
I see Nolan shooting hoops with his cousin, Jackson, and a few of his friends, and he waves his hello, then goes right back to his game.
I remember, just a few years ago, when I arrived, he’d drop everything he was doing and scream, “Mommy!”
Now, all I get is a wave and him whining when I say it’s time to go. Now, I don’t even bother trying to get him to leave, and I just stay until the last kid is picked up, helping Sasha, Katie, and Monica—her staff—clean up.
Once Katie and Monica leave, Sasha invites me inside. Spring is finally here, and since it’s so nice out, we decide to let the boys play some more while we relax.
“Jamie at work?” I ask of her husband, who is a firefighter at Station 47 here in Nashville.
“Yep. Went in this morning, so he’ll be back tomorrow.”
She pours us each a glass of wine, then starts putting together a little charcuterie board of cheese, nuts, crackers, and olives while I sit at her counter bar and watch.
“You are too cute sometimes,” I tease her about the presentation she’s setting up for us.
If she were at my house, I might have these things available, but I’d just put them on the counter and tell her to dig in. Not her though. She’s gathering it all together on a beautiful cutting board.
“Stop making fun. I’m with kids all day. I need some adultness in my life.”
“Adultness?” I raise my eyebrows at her word choice.
“Don’t give me shit. It’s a word. You know what I mean though.”
I grab an olive and toss it into my mouth. “I do. Just like I need to sit my ass down. I’ve been standing all day.”
Once she’s happy with the presentation of her board, she walks around the counter to join me and sits down. “How was your day?”
“Busy. I had a color correction that seriously took forever. Some girl did my new client dirty. I was able to fix her all up though.” I beam with pride. There’s nothing more satisfying than making someone look beautiful. “I actually had two new clients today.”
“Another new client? You’ve never really thrown that kind of information out there like that. Tell me about the other said new client. Did she have a disaster you had to fix too?”
“He’s new to town.”
“Oh. So, he’s a he? Is this why you randomly threw out this fact, which I don’t recall you ever mentioning when you had new clients before?”
I tilt my head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “I’ve mentioned when I had new clients.”
She grabs an olive, pops it into her mouth, and shakes her head. “Nope. Never have, but go on. Who is this new guy to town? A singer?”
“I don’t know why he moved here, but I do know he’s not a singer. I asked the same question.”
“So, how did he find you?”
“His sister did. She booked out his appointments for every two weeks for the next five months.”
“Seriously? His sister? That’s kind of strange.”
I shrug. “She seemed really cool, and he didn’t give me any weirdo vibes.”
“Then he’s cute. Is that what I’m hearing in your voice?”
“I mean … He’s tall and broad, and definitely in shape. When I placed my hands on his shoulders, I could feel the ripple in his muscles as he just sat there.”
“Oh. Okay. So, that’s why you mentioned him.” She slowly nods her head. “Tell me more.”
“I don’t know much more. We had a great talk while I cut his hair, and then he left.”
“Did he ask for your number?”
I shake my head. “No, but his sister has it if he wants to call.”
“But he’s scheduled with you in two weeks?”
“Yep, every two weeks, like clockwork.”
“And how did his sister find you?”
“Not sure. She does hair, too, so she said she wanted to find the right person for her brother since she couldn’t be here to do it herself.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Yeah, I thought so.”
Nolan comes running in, yelling, “Mom! I almost forgot!”
“What?” I ask with the same dramatic tone as him.
“One of the other kids said they are doing open batting practice tonight at the Terrors stadium and letting kids run the field. Can we go? Please!” He clasps his hands under his chin and pouts out his lip, making me laugh.
“Do you see this kid?” I point out to my sister.
“That’s all you!” She taunts. “You did the same thing when we were little.”
I look at Sasha. “Do you know anything about this?”
“Yeah. Nick talked about it all day. He said it’s free.” She shrugs. “I’m down to go if you’re up for it.”
Nolan’s eyes open wide as he waits for my response.
“Okay, we can go,” I say before the anticipation kills him.
Nolan jumps for joy. “Yes!” He grabs my arm. “Come on. Let’s go! We’re going to be late.”
“Hold on. Let me get some details. Go help your cousins clean up out there.” I point to outside as I grab my phone to try to find information about what’s going on.
“Says it starts at seven.” I look at the clock, seeing it’s six thirty. “We’d better get going.”
Sasha walks around the kitchen, grabs a to-go container, slides her artwork of a charcuterie board into the container, not caring now how it looks, then opens the freezer to grab three Uncrustables. “Looks like the dinner of champions for all of us,” she teases. “Let’s go!”
I love how she can be so put together and proper, then flip on a dime and have this fuck it, let’s do this attitude.
“Oh.” She holds up her finger. “Mommy juice.” She pours our wine into water bottles, making me laugh out loud. She hands me mine with a devious grin on her face. “Now we’re ready.”
Nolan, Jackson, and my niece, Layla, climb into my sister’s Escalade as I help carry our makeshift dinners to the car.
“So, you didn’t finish telling me everything about this new client of yours,” Sasha says as she drives toward the stadium. “I don’t think I got his name.”
“Evan.”
She glances my way. “Just Evan? Do you know his last name?”
I rack my brain for what he told me, but for the life of me, I can’t remember it. I open my phone up to get my schedule. “Huh,” I say as I try to think back to my conversation with him and his sister. “It just says Evan P. in my phone. He told me because we talked about our full names when I told him what Nolan’s name was, but I don’t remember.”
“He thought you named him after Nolan Ryan, didn’t he?” she deadpans.
I tilt my head in annoyance. “Yes.”
“I told you everyone would ask that when you picked it.”
“And I told you I didn’t care,” I reply in her same told-you-so tone.
“Well, in two weeks, you’ll have to tell me his name so I can stalk him more properly.”
I shake my head with a chuckle and look back at the kids to make sure they are still eating their Uncrustables, wearing their seat belts, and not climbing on each other when we weren’t paying attention.
We pull into the parking lot to see a good number of cars already there. Once we’re parked, the kids all jump out of the car and start running.
“Wait for us!” I yell, and they slow down.
We make our way through the gates to the field, and I stop in awe. Whenever I’ve brought Nolan to a game, we sat in the lawn area in the back of the field, which has a separate entrance. Seeing the grandeur of this place from this angle takes on a new meaning.
From home plate to the center field fence, the grass is perfect with stripes cut into the lawn, creating a design. Add in the huge screen scoreboard and the slide off to the right, and I can’t believe how just a different view changes this place so much.
An employee of the park guides us down the stairway to the field, where everyone can grab a seat to watch the players go through batting practice.
Sasha walks down to a row where there are a few seats available for us.
“Mommy, can I go down there?” Nolan points to where a few other kids are standing at the end of the stands, closest to the field.
“Yeah, that’s fine, just don’t go anywhere else without talking to me first,” I respond as I take the seat next to my sister.
“I’d say this is the making of a perfect night,” Sasha says. “The kids are fed and occupied, I get to drink my mommy juice in peace, and watch these fine specimens of human beings swing a bat. I could get used to this. We might need to come to games more often.”
We clink our drinks, and I put my feet up on the seat in front of me, thankful not a ton of people are sitting around us.
“Check out this guy.” Sasha points at the current guy walking up to the plate with Parker written across his back. “Jamie talked about this guy the other day. He’s new to the team this year.”
“Did he realize you were checking Parker out while he gave you the guy’s playing stats?” I ask jokingly, but knowing she probably was.
“Hey, I can look.” She grins. “It keeps me engaged with my husband’s conversation if I have someone pretty to look at while he’s talking all that nonsense to me.”
Jamie, my brother-in-law, is a huge baseball fan and can tell you everything about every player, especially if they play for the Terrors. It bores Sasha to tears, but she tries to act like she cares about what he’s saying.
The player up to bat takes some swings. The loud thwack off the wood bat radiates around the stadium, and the kids jump up and down, seeing he hit one out.
Nolan turns around in awe, making sure I saw it too. His little face, full of amazement, fills me with my own joy. There’s nothing better than seeing your son happy.
Sasha and I sit back with our drinks as the players go up one after the other, taking their turn and creating a fun little game with the fans, seeing who can hit the most out of the park.
My sister was right. This is a great way to relax and end the day. As a single mom, there aren’t many nights where I get to do nothing, so I agree; we might need to come here more often.
A few of the players walk up to where the kids are, and I immediately freeze when I see who my son is talking to. When I reach for my sister’s hand, she sits up in question.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“That’s him. That’s Evan.”