Casey's Home Read Online Free PDF

“So,
what’s good here?” There, that was all right, wasn’t it? She smiled, looking a
little pale under all that luscious tanned skin.
    “Everything,”
she said.
    They
stalled again. Run with it, he thought. Just pick up the ball and run.
    “Have
you ever tried the steak?”
    “No,”
she whispered.
    He
was clearly thinking of the wrong sport. He was never much of a football
player.
    “So…”
he said, mind whirring, “how are you doing? After the divorce, I mean?”
    That’s
just brilliant, he hissed at himself. Ask about her divorce.
    “All
right,” she said, and then smiled. “I’ve taken up some new hobbies.”
    “Really?”
He was determined to find them fascinating, even if they involved taxidermy.
“Like what?”
    “Swing
dancing.” God, she was shy about it. That no doubt meant she was into it and
would want him to learn to do it, should this go well. He nodded. “It’s just
great, really good for the coordination and balance. I’ve even gotten some of
my girls into it and it’s really improved their game.”
    “It
sounds wonderful,” he said quickly when she stopped. “I wonder what it would do
for my boys?” He was kidding, and thank God, she caught it.
    “Can’t
you just see it?” she said, one dark eye winking at him.
    “There
are football coaches who make their boys take ballet,” he pointed out and the
conversation was off, easily touching each of the bases.
    At
her door, she invited him in for a drink when he bent down to kiss her. He
wasn’t sure what that meant, especially since she went to pour him a glass even
after he’d pointed out that he didn’t drink. On her couch, he was actively
lurked by a black cat with one fang missing, which gave the animal a
snaggle-toothed rakishness. When Ben tried to pet him, the cat sneered and
slunk just out of reach.
    Janine
brought him a shot glass with Baileys and kissed him before she downed her
drink. He kissed her back after she’d finished, setting his glass aside
untouched. He might want someone to talk to, but in the end, kissing was good,
too.
    To
say he hit a home run, even in his own mind, did nothing to lessen the
cheapness of the whole thing. Lying on his back after she’d rolled off him, the
analogy just didn’t hold the sense of achievement he might have expected. One
thing he did note was that she hadn’t seemed to mind his stomach, or his mouth,
or any other part of him.
    “You
realize I just wanted to get laid,” she said, and her voice seemed to vibrate
off his aching head.
    “I
know,” he said, though he hadn’t known, not at all. He had the vague suspicion
he should have. “That’s fine with me.”
    “Of
course it is,” she said, circling his nipple with a lazy finger. “I never
pegged you as a prude.”
    God,
he thought, when did anticipating a second date make you prudish?
    “You
can stay here tonight,” she said sleepily, dissolving into a yawn and burrowing
against him like an animal.
    “Thanks,” he whispered, wishing there
was a polite way to slip away and not have to feel the firm strength of her
shoulder beneath his hand, the warm press of her body against his own. It was
better to lay in the dark alone, in his own bed, where the empty space was
familiar. Somewhere in the dim room, a clock ticked with a rapid rhythm. One of
the cats skulked in the window, a gray silhouette behind the white curtain. The
dry rustle of traffic on the road outside kept him awake long after Janine had
fallen asleep.

American Girl
    1976
     
    The
fall before the Atlantics made it to the Series the second time, my father
threw a party. Not a small, intimate evening, but the sort of party where
people end up parking on the lawn and burning holes in all the furniture. This
was his first year as both a player and a manager, and he claimed it was
necessary to “help the boys relax.”
    I
lay upstairs in my bed, wide awake in the dim green light of my alarm clock,
listening to the thudding of the bass from the stereo