pushing one of her legs up as he pumped into her, and her saying his name when she came. Over and over. Then the images came faster. Her laughing with him. Bending over for him. Holding his hand. Looking up at him with love, a smile spread across her face while he thought of using her and dumping her.
I shook it off. I was being an adolescent. “Get in the goddamn box.”
“All right. Sorry, man. I didn’t know she meant something to you.”
When I felt the ice in my chest and my mind went completely and utterly clear, I should have known. I’d spent a long time getting my temper under control, and I knew it well. My temper wasn’t a fire burning out in a confused jumble of thoughts; it was a frozen lucidity, a clarity of intention, whose sole purpose was to harm. I’d learned the warning signs, but on the mound, I fooled myself into thinking I was concentrating on the strike zone.
I threw a fastball, straight and hard. I coiled the power from my hips, up my back, and to my shoulder, pivoting my arm like a catapult. The ball landed right where I aimed: between Ed’s ear and eye.
He didn’t just fall. He spun around from the impact and landed on his back.
Fuck. I glanced at the speed clock. 91. That’s about what it had felt like as it left my fingers. I ran up to Eddie and kneeled beside him. He was unconscious.
God damn, what the fuck was on your mind?
Nothing. That was the problem.
A crowd rushed over just as Eddie opened his eyes. I got him to his feet. A pretty doctor had been at the pool, and she took a look at him. He was well enough to flirt with her. It was too late to have a gentlemanly conversation about Monica and her place in the musical lexicon, of course. I could hardly say, “Listen, Ed, take the BDSM shit down a notch, and she’ll sign with you.”
I had to go to plan B.
CHAPTER 12.
MONICA
I almost didn’t answer Kevin. Three days passed in a heat of songwriting and waitressing. When I realized I’d let the time pass, I thought that maybe I was doing the same thing I’d always done: turn my back on someone until it was too late to go back.
Kev,
I want you to know I got this, but I don’t know how to answer it right now.
See you on the plane.
Mon
The day before I left for Vancouver, I stood at my locker, shoving my work shoes in and stepping into my street shoes, when Jonathan appeared like a shiny new penny.
“Your eye healed up nice.”
I jumped. “Jesus, stop that. I thought you were leaving me alone until I got back.”
He leaned on the locker bank, crossing his ankles. “Take my plane. Seriously.”
“You came here to convince me to take a private jet to my art opening? Talk about a nice problem to have.” I slammed the locker shut and locked it. He smiled at me, then for half a beat, too quickly for anyone to notice, he dropped his eyes and drank me in. I felt as though he was stroking me from toes to shoulders, and a tingle went through me.
“Great, I’ll make sure it’s ready.”
“I didn’t say I’d take it.”
I brushed past him. Not because I wanted to make a threatening gesture, but because my desire to be near him made the hallway too narrow. He walked beside me as if he belonged there. As if I’d agreed to a discussion about our relationship before the appointed time, which I hadn’t .
“So, what’s keeping you going to LAX in traffic and getting on a coach flight with three hundred other people?”
The employee exit spit out into the parking lot, which was crowded with staff arriving, leaving, and greeting each other with laughs and short conversations.
I had to walk close to him or talk loud enough to be heard by everyone. “Look, I’ll have the conversation if you think it will change something, but if I start accepting favors and gifts beforehand, it’s tainted.”
I approached my Honda with my key out, but as I went for
I shook it off. I was being an adolescent. “Get in the goddamn box.”
“All right. Sorry, man. I didn’t know she meant something to you.”
When I felt the ice in my chest and my mind went completely and utterly clear, I should have known. I’d spent a long time getting my temper under control, and I knew it well. My temper wasn’t a fire burning out in a confused jumble of thoughts; it was a frozen lucidity, a clarity of intention, whose sole purpose was to harm. I’d learned the warning signs, but on the mound, I fooled myself into thinking I was concentrating on the strike zone.
I threw a fastball, straight and hard. I coiled the power from my hips, up my back, and to my shoulder, pivoting my arm like a catapult. The ball landed right where I aimed: between Ed’s ear and eye.
He didn’t just fall. He spun around from the impact and landed on his back.
Fuck. I glanced at the speed clock. 91. That’s about what it had felt like as it left my fingers. I ran up to Eddie and kneeled beside him. He was unconscious.
God damn, what the fuck was on your mind?
Nothing. That was the problem.
A crowd rushed over just as Eddie opened his eyes. I got him to his feet. A pretty doctor had been at the pool, and she took a look at him. He was well enough to flirt with her. It was too late to have a gentlemanly conversation about Monica and her place in the musical lexicon, of course. I could hardly say, “Listen, Ed, take the BDSM shit down a notch, and she’ll sign with you.”
I had to go to plan B.
CHAPTER 12.
MONICA
I almost didn’t answer Kevin. Three days passed in a heat of songwriting and waitressing. When I realized I’d let the time pass, I thought that maybe I was doing the same thing I’d always done: turn my back on someone until it was too late to go back.
Kev,
I want you to know I got this, but I don’t know how to answer it right now.
See you on the plane.
Mon
The day before I left for Vancouver, I stood at my locker, shoving my work shoes in and stepping into my street shoes, when Jonathan appeared like a shiny new penny.
“Your eye healed up nice.”
I jumped. “Jesus, stop that. I thought you were leaving me alone until I got back.”
He leaned on the locker bank, crossing his ankles. “Take my plane. Seriously.”
“You came here to convince me to take a private jet to my art opening? Talk about a nice problem to have.” I slammed the locker shut and locked it. He smiled at me, then for half a beat, too quickly for anyone to notice, he dropped his eyes and drank me in. I felt as though he was stroking me from toes to shoulders, and a tingle went through me.
“Great, I’ll make sure it’s ready.”
“I didn’t say I’d take it.”
I brushed past him. Not because I wanted to make a threatening gesture, but because my desire to be near him made the hallway too narrow. He walked beside me as if he belonged there. As if I’d agreed to a discussion about our relationship before the appointed time, which I hadn’t .
“So, what’s keeping you going to LAX in traffic and getting on a coach flight with three hundred other people?”
The employee exit spit out into the parking lot, which was crowded with staff arriving, leaving, and greeting each other with laughs and short conversations.
I had to walk close to him or talk loud enough to be heard by everyone. “Look, I’ll have the conversation if you think it will change something, but if I start accepting favors and gifts beforehand, it’s tainted.”
I approached my Honda with my key out, but as I went for
Similar Books
Minecraft: The Unlikely Tale of Markus "Notch" Persson and the Game that Changed Everything
Daniel Goldberg, Linus Larsson
