Page 37 of Pick Me

Monday morning. Still no word from Owen. I was back at Jimmie McDaniel, paddle in hand, on a mission.

I was desperate for an endorphin release, but I also needed to keep practicing since the tournament was on the horizon. Part

of me wanted to withdraw, but an equal part wanted to see it through. I was signed up. I had a goal. I wanted to see what

real competition felt like.

I also had an ulterior motive for showing up.

I crossed my fingers as I approached the fence, and luck was on my side, because Howard was literally holding court with three

other white-haired men.

“Well, good morning.” Howard waved to me as I approached. “You look like you’re ready to make my kind of trouble.”

“Hi.” I waved back. “I’ll sub in whenever.”

“We’re nearly done with this game,” one of the other men called to me. “I have to leave.”

“Sounds good,” I answered.

It wasn’t a leisurely wrap-up to the game, which was surprising given the average age on the court was probably seventyish.

Their strategy was sound enough that the majority of the action was up near the kitchen, and when it was time to slap a ball out of the air as it zipped up the middle, they freaking sprinted .

I couldn’t believe the intensity I was witnessing.

They finished up and tapped paddles over the net, trash-talking the whole time.

“Get in here, Brooke,” Howard called to me. “Come meet these reprobates.”

He introduced me to Walter, the man who had to leave, as well as Danny in a visor and Bruce wearing wrist sweatbands that

he actually used.

“So how long you been playing?” Danny asked.

“Not long enough to be as good as all of you,” I marveled.

“Just wait until you hit eighty-five like me,” Bruce said. “ Then you’ll be a master.”

I shook my head in disbelief. Not only did he look twinkly-eyed and spry, he moved like someone twenty years younger. “Hold

on... you’re eighty-five?”

“Don’t be so impressed,” Danny said as he stepped in front of Bruce. He pointed at his chest. “Eighty- seven .”

“And I’m the baby of the group,” Walter added as he packed his bag on the sideline. “Seventy-seven.”

“Okay, wow. I guess motion is the lotion.” I was awestruck as I glanced between them.

“That’s it,” Howard agreed after polishing off half a water bottle. “Never stop moving. Never stop challenging yourself. It

won’t be as easy when your bones get old like ours, but you’ll have a great foundation, and you’ll be way ahead of all of

your creaky, old friends.”

I’d never considered how my anti-sport sentiment could have had negative long-term health implications.

“I’m off, fellas,” Walter said with a salute. He turned to me. “Give ’em hell, Brooke.”

If only. Bruce and I got our asses handed to us in the first game, and as we kept switching up the teams with each consecutive

game, I discovered that my hunch had been right; Howard was the ringer of the group.

We finished up as the sun started creeping onto our court, then congregated by the fence to rehash and trash-talk.

“Did you ever play tennis?” Danny asked me.

I shook my head. “I’ve never been an athlete. This is all new to me.”

“Now that’s surprising,” Bruce said with an approving nod. “You said you haven’t been playing long but you’re a natural. Killer

backhand.”

I grinned at the compliment.

“She has a coach ,” Howard said, leaning closer to the group. “I certainly don’t want to take away from your natural abilities, but consistent

coaching makes a difference.”

My heart dropped a little at the reference to Owen.

“And speaking of your coach,” Howard continued. “Now I know why he looked so familiar when I met him. Dimoveo.”

I frowned at him. “Not sure what that is?”

“It’s a money transfer thingy, a... uh...” Bruce waved his hands as he tried to come up with the missing word. “What

do you call them?”

“Apps,” Howard said knowingly.

“Right, it’s an app. Started by two guys in college. One of them was from India and the money transfer fees were killing him,

so he and his roommate came up with the idea. They developed it and got bought out. Very lucrative deal.”

It was unexpected intel.

I locked onto Howard. “So did Owen work for that company?”

He laughed good-naturedly. “Work for? No, he’s one of the founders . I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

I tried not to go bug-eyed at the reveal.

I wasn’t surprised Owen hadn’t told me, because getting backstory out of him was all but impossible. Suddenly his beautiful

home and worldwide hobby-testing made sense.

And his job as a pickleball instructor.

Owen didn’t have to work.

There was no need for me to know anything about his bank account, but the reveal opened up new insights about him: Why he

was guarded and kept people at an arm’s length. Why he didn’t like talking about his background. And why he opted to be über-schlub

at CPA. He was surrounded by finance bros who probably recognized him from the press around Dimoveo, so the disguise was a

way to keep from getting cornered to talk about investment opportunities.

The news actually made me uncomfortable. I hadn’t gone out looking for information about Owen—I’d never so much as googled

him—and now I knew way more than I should. After all, he’d never mentioned it to me, for a good reason.

My heart hurt in new and surprising ways.

A phone went off.

“That’s wifey.” Bruce grinned as he pulled his phone out of his bag. “Making sure I didn’t have a heart attack.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky next time.” Danny laughed and smacked him on the back.

We all gathered our things and got ready to leave, but I hung back, waiting for Howard.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” I asked him as he headed out.

“Of course.” He lifted his hat and swept his hair across his head, then placed it back on, jauntily tipped and precariously

high. “How can I be of service?”

My stomach dipped, which was a stupid reaction given that what I was about to do wasn’t a big deal.

“So I’m signed up for the New York Parks Pickleball Summer Tournament—”

“Good for you.” He nodded approvingly. “You’re going to do great!”

“Thank you.” I pushed on. “Right now I’m signed up as ‘needs a partner,’ which is fine, but I thought that it might be fun

if you—I mean the timing’s not great because it’s coming up on the twenty-fifth—but if you have the time, maybe you’d want

to sign up as my partner? I know it’s weird for me to ask, but I thought—”

“You want to play with me ?” Howard’s eyes lit up as he broke into a wide smile. “Of all of the crackerjack players you know, you want this old man

by your side?”

He pointed at himself, delighted and a little dubious.

“I do.” I smiled back at him. “I think we make a great team. It’s my first competition, so going into it with someone I know

would take away some of the stress.”

“And we’re the same level, correct? Three-plus-ish?”

“I feel like a fraud, but yes, that’s what Owen says I am.”

“Well, okay then! I’m retired so I can do what I want when I want. And I want to kick some butt with you.”

I beamed at him. “Fantastic, thank you! I’m not sure about switching up my reservation to ‘has a partner,’ though.”

“I’ll take care of it. I know people,” he said with a wink. “One of my former students is in the public programs department.”

We walked out of the court together, making plans to play a couple times before the tournament. Even though so much in my

life was going wrong at the moment, it finally felt like I had a little spot of sunshine in the form of an octogenarian pickleball

ace.