Beg Read Online Free PDF Page A

and so sexually alive.
    When I got the strength to walk away from him, I vowed never
again.

 
    ***

 
    I snapped my locker closed, thinking about those Dodger seats on
the first base line. A corporation gets a skybox. A real fan gets tickets at
field level, luxuries be damned. I’d never seen a game from that angle.
    Debbie came into the locker room, buzzing with talk and flirting
and locker doors banging, and handed out our tip envelopes. “A good night for
everyone,” she said, then got close to me. “Someone is waiting for you at the
front exit. If you want to avoid him, go through the parking lot, but be nice.
He’s a friend of the hotel.”
    “Can I ask you something?”
    “Quickly, I have to count out.”
    “How many drinks did he have?” I asked as quietly as I could.
    Debbie smiled as if I’d asked the exact right question. “Two. He
nurses like a baby.”
    “I know you don’t know me that well yet, but… would going out the
front be a mistake?”
    “Only if you take it too seriously.”
    “Thanks.”
    Debbie walked off to hand out the rest of the envelopes. What she
said had been a relief, actually. It made the boundaries that much clearer. I
could hang out, be close to him and feel the buzz of sex between us, but I had
to be careful about climbing into bed with him. Fair warning.
    ***
    Jonathan Drazen stood in the lobby, talking to Sam, laughing like
an old buddy. I wasn’t going to approach him with my boss right there. Sam
seemed like a fine guy for the fifteen minutes we’d talked. With his white hair
and slim build, he looked like a newscaster and had an all-business attitude. I
just pushed through the revolving doors, figuring fate had lent a hand in
deciding whether or not I’d see Drazen outside a rooftop bar.
    I was three steps into the hot night when I heard him call my
name.
    “You stalking me?” I asked, slowing my steps to the parking lot.
    “Just wanted company to walk to my car.”
    We strolled down Flower Street, the long way to the underground
parking lot. Any normal person would have gone through the hotel.
    “How do you know Sam?” I asked.
    “He introduced me to my ex-wife, which I’m trying to not hold
against him.”
    “You’re a good sport,” I said. “Have you always been blue?”
    He tilted his head a few degrees.
    “Dodger fan,” I said. “I would’ve taken you for more of an Angels
guy.”
    “Ah. Because I have money?”
    “Kind of.”
    “I like a little grit,” he said, that smile lighting up the
night.
    “Is that why you met me after work?” I asked, turning toward the
parking lot entrance.
    “Kind of.”
    He let me go first into the underground passage, and I felt his
eyes on me as I walked. It was not an uncomfortable feeling. When we got to the
bottom of the ramp, we stopped. I parked in the employee level and his car was
in the valet section. I held up my hand to wave good-bye.
    “It was nice to talk to you,” I said.
    “You too.”
    We faced each other, walking backward in opposite directions.
    “See you around,” I said.
    “Okay.” He waved, tall and beautiful in the flat light and grey
parking lot.  
    “Take care.”
    “What do I have to say?”
    “You have to say please,” I said.
    “Please.”
    “Where do you think you’re taking me?”
    “Come on. Text a friend and tell them who you’re with in case I’m
a psycho killer.”

 
    ***

 
    The early hour guaranteed a traffic-free trip to the west side.
I’d gotten into his Mercedes convertible thinking most killers don’t drive with
the top down where everyone could see, so I just let the wind whip my hair into
a bird’s nest. Jonathan drove with one hand, and as I watched his fingers move
and slide on the bottom of the wheel, the hair on the back of it, the strong
wrist, I imagined it on me. I grabbed the leather seat, trying to keep my mind
on something, anything else, but the leather itself seemed to rub the backs of
my thighs the wrong way. “So, you pick up