Let's Play Ball Read Online Free PDF Page B

I have no idea. I don’t
know. Mr. Right never rode up on his white horse…Is that an
adequate answer?”
    “ Yeah I guess. You’re just
so…” How do I phrase it?
    “ So what?”
    “ Pretty. Seems like someone
would marry you just to look at you.”
    “ Do you have any single
friends that date black women? Hook me up. I see you’re very
concerned with my marital status.”
    She had lost her mind if she thinks I
would ever give her away to another guy when she made it clear to
me that I have a shot.
    “ I don’t have any single
friends.” I barked and changed the subject. “Where’s Trey’s
father?”
    “ He’s M.I.A.” She delivered
that answer completely deadpan.
    “ Really, Trey’s such a cool
kid.”
    “ Don’t I know it? Any man
should be happy to have a son like Trey.”
    “ Yeah, he’s a great kid.
He’s has the best manners on the team. I’m sure you didn’t teach
him that. You’re pretty rude.”
    Kari frowned and flexed one of her feet
out to kick me. I quickly dodged her foot.
    “ I’m rude?” She placed her
hand on her chest.
    “ Yeah. Next practice, you
won’t talk to me unless I talk to you.”
    “ I’m talking to you now,
Coach Rizza.” Kari hit me with one of her killer smiles. I’m
dead.
    Time flew by and before I noticed it,
two hours had passed. We talked about our lives before kids,
hilarious things that happened in high school, our jobs, politics,
religion, our childhood and any and everything that came to mind.
She was easy to talk to, brutally honest and genuine. We had a lot
of similarities although she was black and I was white. We liked
the same movies, action, horror and sci-fi, in that order. We liked
the same music, pop and classic rock and vintage MTV. It was almost
unreal.
    I learned that Kari was thirty-four
years old. I was off by eight years. I guess black really doesn’t
crack. She was born in Chicago and she moved to California with her
family when she was in the second grade because her father was in
the military. She moved back to Illinois in the sixth grade. She
told me her parents had divorced when she was fifteen and she had a
younger brother that was a pharmaceutical sales representative and
an MMA fighter.
    I learned her favorite color was pink
and her favorite food was pizza. She told me she used to be an
extra in movies and how she loved to dance at clubs when she was in
her early twenties. She told me she loved chocolate cake. She
shared that she lost her virginity at the age of nineteen and it
was terrible. I discovered she was allergic to coconuts and
Hawaiian Punch made her break out in hives. She told me she was
single and her last boyfriend was fourteen months ago. I asked her
the last time she had sex and she reluctantly told me it was ten
months ago with an ex-boyfriend. She said she devoted all her time
to Trey and didn’t have time to date, mostly because she didn’t
make time for it.
    Kari told her life tales with so much
enthusiasm, humor and optimism that you felt like you had
experienced the deeds yourself. She wasn’t full of herself. She was
a good person, a good mother with a kind heart. She was funny as
hell and could impersonate Kermit the Frog better than Jim Henson.
If I were single this would have been the best date I ever
had.
    I shared a bit about myself with her
but I preferred to hear her speak. Her voice was like candy, sweet,
tasty, sticky and addictive. Her animation amused me. Her wit
provoked me to think with reason and logic. Her charm was
infectious. With all those things being said, by me and only me, it
was Kari’s body that forced me to masturbate as soon as I got home.
Why is this happening to me?
    I had never met a black woman like
Kari. I had never met any woman like Kari. I met her at the track
every morning at seven-fifteen a.m. I counted the mornings. It was
three times the first week, four the next week, five times the
third week. I saw her every weekday the third week. We would trade
iPod’s and