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  “Me too. So much.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks, Buzz.”

  Chapter 42

  SCARLET

  FOR THE rest of the week, I just moped around. I deserved it, though. I watched movies all day, and just wallowed in self-pity. Oh, and on Wednesday, I got an email message from Oksana Timoshenko.

  Hello Scarlet: Yes, this is mother of Harrison Brett. In more than three decades, I have not heard a word about him, so imagine my surprise when I get your message. Please give Harrison my love. If you are able, can you please send my phone number to him? Or send me his? I am not sure how much you know about the situation, but it was the most difficult thing I ever did. I tried to keep my son with me, but they got him and his father. His father was taken and I never saw him again. My son, I hear, was taken by Roger Brett, who is a bad man. Believe me, he is very bad man. He imprisoned me for years. It was long time ago, but I never forget, and I never stop hoping and praying I get my son back. This is first time I have hope. So, thank you for your thought and your kindness. Love, Oksana.

  And she attached two photos. One of her today, a selfie, with a little dog on her lap. And the other a picture of her in the 1980s. And she was breathtakingly beautiful. She was still a handsome woman in her mid-fifties. But the thing that struck me the most was that she was almost the spitting image of Harrison. My only issue was, should I send this to him?

  I was genuinely torn. I was too mad at him for ruining my life, but I did want him to have closure. I decided against it, mostly because there was a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream that was staring at me and I was tired. I wrote back to Oksana with Harrison’s phone number instead. Baby steps.

  Then, I rolled over and went to sleep. When I woke, I spent hours watching videos of puppies and kittens doing cute things. I yawned all the time. I hated everything and everyone. When Heidi called, I was in the lowest place I could possibly be.

  “Hon, we’re goin’ out on the town!”

  “Ugh. I don’t want to get dressed.”

  “Then get half dressed. You and me and two of the younger gals are goin’ to Chasers.”

  “That sounds horrible.”

  “It’s a bar, near the college, and you are gonna pick up some young buck who will make you forget you ever knew a baseball player.”

  “Do I have ta? I want to have a date with Ben and Jerry!”

  Heidi was persistent, I’d give her that. “Yes, you do, and no, you can’t stay in. This is not optional. The only way to forget a guy is to get another. It’s psychology.”

  “Fine. When?”

  “Friday night.”

  “Fine. See you then.”

  Chapter 43

  HARRISON

  EVERYTHING WAS moved out of my apartment on Wednesday, and I looked at the empty space, remembering the good times I had with Scarlet. I still couldn’t really believe all this was happening, but figured it would be okay in a few months, once the dust had settled. I didn’t actually believe that, but I sort of had to believe it. I had no choice. It was happening whether I liked it or not.

  I was ready to leave when the phone rang. I looked at my phone, hoping it was Scarlet. It was not. I picked it up anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “Harrison?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is your mother.” That was a sentence I had wanted to hear for decades. She had not called me once. I didn’t know what to do.

  “What?”

  “This is your mother calling you.” She had a thick accent but she spoke quite well. “My name is Oksana Timoshenko. I need to talk to you. I was given your number by Scarlet Ravenwood.”

  Another name I had wanted to hear. I was unable to see anything around me. This was unbelievable.

  “Okay,” I was in shook, but this was all I had at the moment.

  “Let me start with questions. How are you?”

  “Fine. Well, not fine, but I am surviving.”

  “Why not fine?”

  “Because I, well, because I had a bad experience recently.”

  “With Miss Ravenwood?”

  “Yes. Mom, I’ve been wanting to ask you things for a while now. Do you know who Scarlet is?”

  “Your physical therapist. She tells me. Harrison, I have followed your career for years, and I want you to know I am very proud of you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I mean this. You must know I was an athlete too — a gymnast.”

  “I heard that.”

  “I should have gone to the Olympics for USSR, but there were those boycotts.”

  “Yeah. I heard.”

  “Yes. So, I represent USA and my life changes. I want you to know how proud I have been of you all these years.”

  “Mom, why did you leave?”

  “It is complicated. Very complicated. Your father was supposed to take you with him, but he was taken by the KGB.”

  “Taken by the KGB? My father is sitting in Detroit right now.”

  “Your father is Oleg Andreyev. Your father disappeared in 1989. But he was your father. And my lover.”

  “Who was he?”

  “He was an athlete too. A swimmer. From Soviet Union. But at that time, things were changing, and we thought we could go home. Both of us were Ukrainsky. So, when I could get away from Roger, I made a run for it, but I didn’t realize how well connected he was, and he had people at the airport. I left a few days before Oleg. I lived in misery for years, until I found out that you were a professional athlete too. This made me very happy.”

  “Are you telling me the truth? Roger is not my father?” I replied.

  “I swear to you I tell you the truth. Your real father was a colleague of mine. We trained in Detroit. I was a foolish young girl and this older American offered me the world, and I accepted. But I did not know how bad he was.”

  “Bad?”

  “Cruel. He tried to end my career, he hated that I could not speak good English. He was cruel, cold, mean. But I stayed, even after he found out about my child with Oleg. You. I stayed and endured for you. But when I caught him having an affair with this Betty Ravenwood, I could not live there anymore. I tried to kill myself. It did not work. I hated this Betty!”

  “You know that Betty Ravenwood is Scarlet’s mother, do you?”

  There was a gasp from the other end of the phone.

  “Mom? Are you there?”

  “Why did she write to me?”

  “I’m not sure. But Mom, if Roger is not my father, then I am not related to Scarlet Ravenwood. Right?”

  “Of course not! Betty was stupid American, how you call ‘bimbo’. You were serious young man even when you were only three years old. She was hired to be a housekeeper, because Roger Brett hated how I cleaned house. Or didn’t clean house.”

  “And you are living where now?”

  “Odessa. In Ukraine.”

  “Wow. That is amazing.”

  “What is amazing?”

  “Literally everything about this story is amazing. So, I am not related to Scarlet Ravenwood for real?”

  “For real. This Scarlet Ravenwood was the child I saw growing in her belly. The sign I could no longer stand to be with Roger Brett. This is Scarlet Ravenwood?”

  “Yes, it is. Oh my God, Mom, you have no idea what a relief that is.”

  “What is a relief?”

  “That I’m not related to her. I was falling in love with her until we thought we might be related.”

  “You are not related to her. What is she like?”

  “Mom, she is amazing. She is beautiful and smart, and very kind. And I made her lose her job.”

  “You make her lose her job? How do you do this?” It was funny but the motherly tone of voice was starting to come out in her. She had sounded very cold until this moment.

  “Well, at the Toledo Spark Plugs — that’s the Minor League team I was sent to while I recovered from an injury — they have a policy that says you can’t be sexually involved with an
yone else who works there.”

  “Really? What a stupid rule,” she snorted.

  “Agreed, but we broke it, and she admitted it when the manager asked her, so they fired her. Someone told on us, but it wasn’t me. I think I know who, but I have no proof.”

  “They can do this? Barbaric! Tell me, why are Americans so afraid of sex?”

  “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t, but they are, and yes, it is a completely stupid rule. And the weird thing is that now, I don’t even work there, so there is no problem that I can see.”

  “I will never understand America.”

  “Maybe I don’t, either.”

  “And so, they fire you too?”

  “No. They have moved me back to the Detroit Major League team.”

  “The Detroit Diamonds?”

  “Yes. So, I’m confused. But one thing I’m glad about is that Scarlet and I are not related, because that was not negotiable.”

  “You are not related to her. It is a big mix-up, of course. But tell me more about Scarlet Ravenwood. She is not like her mother, I hope.”

  “No, she is not. I mean, I don’t know her mother, but Scarlet is serious and she is smart. Like you.”

  “Thank you, my son. That is nice thing to say.”

  “Mom, I have another question.”

  “What is your question?”

  “Are you able to come here?”

  “I think so. It was long time ago.”

  “Can you find out? I would really love to see you. I can pay your way, if money is a problem.”

  “In Ukraine, money is always problem. I look into it. And Harrison, I do one more thing. I write to your love and tell her. Now when I do this, you do something to prove her. Okay?”

  “I will.”

  Chapter 44

  SCARLET

  LATE ON Thursday evening, I was watching Love Actually, the movie I always went to when love went wrong, when I got an email message from Oksana Timoshenko. I was watching the movie on my laptop so the email flashed across the screen. I paused the movie.

  Dear Scarlet: Thank you for connect me with my son. I will be grateful always. I have news for you — my son was not the one who got you fired. I need you to know this. He loves you. You are not related to him. Please understand there was big mix-up, but you can make it better. If you really love Harrison, you will call him. Oksana

  I put the movie back on. This was not the time for doing anything. Maybe she was right, maybe she was wrong. Either way, I lost my job, and all I wanted to do was eat ice cream.

  The next morning, I woke up late. I decided to do a yoga program all for me, and although I had only planned to do it for twenty minutes, I ended up doing it for an hour and a half. Indulgence. I deserved it. Then I made myself avocado toast, because I deserved it. And then I had a long bubble bath, because I deserved it. And I did a facial mask, because I deserved it. And then I called the mani-pedi place, and I had my nails done, because I deserved it.

  I realized that if I was going to go out and pick up some young college guy tonight to forget the horror of this week, I would need to get my hair done. So I went online and found a place on Central Avenue that had a guy who used to be a lion tamer as a stylist. Sounded perfect. I called and booked an appointment, and to my shock, one was available immediately because of a cancellation.

  As I sat in the chair, the man asked me what I wanted.

  “I’m honestly not sure. But here are the requirements. I need a change. I have worn my hair like this since college.”

  “Your hair is like a twenty-year-old’s,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  “Thank you. That is very sweet.”

  “I’m not being sweet, it’s the truth. You have beautiful hair. You would be a fool to cut it off.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t expecting that. “Well, let me ask you something — you are the expert. What would you do?”

  “Shampoo, deep clean, highlights, and cut, but not short. I will layer it. I want to make your hair bring out your dark features.”

  “Let’s do it,” I said. I’d read a few years ago that one of the bravest things you can do as a woman was to let someone else take control of your hairstyle. True or not, I know that I’d had a couple of bad haircuts in my teens that resulted in many tears. Perhaps I needed someone else to take control of my life too, as I seemed to be fucking it up anyway.

  “So, we’re agreed. I will tame you, you wild beast. What is the occasion?”

  “I just broke up with a guy, I just lost my job, and I am going out to a college bar to pick up some young man.”

  “Ah. Perfect.”

  “Do your worst,” I said.

  He snapped his fingers theatrically and two younger people approached me.

  “This young lady needs the full treatment,” the hairdresser said. “I want a deep cleansing. I want a heat treatment. Do you see how her hair shimmers? Those are natural highlights. The almost auburn tinge. I want that to be brought out. Once you have a perfect raw material, you will bring this young lady to me and I will turn her into the pre-midnight Cinderella, so she can go find her Prince Charming. The loser she broke up with will be her last Prince Charles. Only Prince Charmings from now on. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir!” they said in harmony.

  As entertaining as he was, he was also amazing, and when I walked out of the salon at four, I literally looked like a new person. A better person. I walked about a hundred feet and saw men turn their heads in surprise.

  I then went to get my make-up done professionally. I have literally never seen myself look nicer. I have never been the kind of girl who needed a lot of make-up, and my mother was hopeless at teaching me.

  But I knew I looked good, and I needed an outfit to go with it. I called Heidi.

  “I need an outfit for tonight. Where do I go?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Central Avenue and Secor.”

  “I’ll be there in five minutes. I’ll show you what to get. It’s at the Franklin Mall on Monroe Street. I’ll text you the exact address for the shop.”

  I was there within ten minutes, and she was there waiting for me. “I guess you know this place?”

  “It’s for teenagers mostly, but you have the figure to pull it off. Me, I’d look like something squeezed into a sausage casing. Let’s go.”

  First stop was the jeans. All of mine looked sort of like mom jeans, and so I realized I needed some of those ones that were stretchy, with buttons for the fly, with rips in the knees. Hi-rise ankle skinny jeans. And then I had to get a top. Something revealing, something to go with the new me.

  A golden open-weave sweater tank top was what Heidi demanded I get.

  “But you can see everything!” I said.

  “What’s your point, Martha Washington?”

  “Nothing. I guess that’s your point. Okay, I’ll take it.”

  “Would you like me to wrap it?” asked the woman behind the counter.

  “To be honest, I’d prefer that you burn this blouse. I’ll wear this one home.”

  “As you wish, ma’am,” she said, smiling sweetly until I passed her my old blouse. She took it with her hands, but with the distinct impression that she would have preferred to have taken it with tongs and put it directly into a fire.

  “Next stop, shoe department. What do you have already?”

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “We need some high-heels that you can dance in. This is a dance place.”

  “Okay,” I said. We went to the shoe department, and I saw them from afar. Wedge-heeled leather sandals in black. I knew they would be perfect with my new skinny jeans. I knew it like I had never known anything in my life before.

  I ran to them, there under the lights, and picked them up, running to the woman behind the counter. “Please tell me you have these in size seven!”

  “One sec,” And she disappeared into the storage room, emerging a few seconds later with these amazing sandals in my size.

&nb
sp; “I’ll take them,” I said as I stood up, feeling better than I had in ages. “In fact, I’m going to wear them out, right now.”

  Heidi and I walked out together, smiling broadly. As we got out to the street, she turned to me, took my hand, and got a look. “Jeez, hun, you really do clean up good! I’m almost afraid of what might happen tonight.”

  “Ready to go?”

  “I guess so. Did you bring your car?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s okay. You drive home and I’ll follow you. We’re goin’ in my car tonight. You ain’t drivin’. That much I know.”

  I drove home, went inside, brushed my teeth, double checked my make-up, and by nine, we walked into Chasers. And it was not the greatest place I had ever been, but it was full, and there were weird lights flashing all over the checked linoleum floor, and as I looked around, there were enough attractive young men there for a little fun to happen. I deserved this, and I knew it.

  The music was pounding and although Heidi and her two friends were all dressed in the youngest-looking outfits they had, they all looked a little like cougars to me. Not that there was anything wrong with that. In fact, I had to admit that I was a cougar too, as far as these young guys were concerned.

  But I did feel the need to separate myself from them, simply because there was no advantage being associated with them. The music was so loud I couldn’t hear anything they said, anyway.

  It was curated by a DJ who seemed to be playing a weird mixture of electronica and rap, with new country. The combination was dizzying, and although I didn’t like it, I knew it was making my body move. And as my body began to move, guys began to look.

  It was so different from my high school and college days when guys just watched us dance. This new generation of guys was much more comfortable dancing, and it was really pleasant to be on a dance floor where half the people are men. The music was washing over me and the lights were flashing in a way that made me feel like I was in a dream. I was enjoying this in the way people enjoy trances and acid trips. It was not possible to be normal, and as I looked around, I noticed there were several other guys who noticed me too.