Sparks the Matchmaker (Aaron Sparks Series) (4 page)

“Just sign on the line please,” the man said.

“When I’m done. I don’t sign anything until I’ve read it. How am I supposed to know I’m not signing my first born over to you?”

“Please. We both have places to go.”

“You should have thought of that before you put that thing on my tire.”

It was the first and only time Ollie held the power in the conversation. Especially on a day when he had so many things out of his control, he wasn’t about to let this power go. Sure, it wasn’t a whole lot of power to have, but at least it was a little. When the man asked a fourth time for him to sign the paper, Ollie decided he had enjoyed having control long enough, scribbled his name next to the X, and then drove home.

***

Ollie walked through the back door into the kitchen. “Why’d you take off?” he asked Keith. “What if that guy drove off and left me there?”

“You probably would have deserved it. At the rate you were going, you looked like you would be there all night. I’d rather play with one outfielder missing than sit there on the hood of my car all night listening to you pout.”

“Pout? What’s that supposed to mean? You’re taking his side?”

“Side? I’m not taking anybody’s side. There are no sides to take. The guy got a call. He came and did his job. You yelled at him. It was pretty cut and dried. No sides.”

“Maybe you can file a complaint,” Richie said, butting in.

“Right,” Ollie said sarcastically.

“Listen,” Keith said. “I can only watch you be a jerk for so long. What’s happened to you?”

“Me?” Ollie answered. “I’m not the one who put the boot on my car.”

“I’m not talking about that,” Keith said. “You’ve been invisible the last few months. On the rare occasion that you brought Anne over here instead of going over to her place, you hardly said anything to any of us. Now you’re throwing a tantrum every time I don’t pat you on the head and tell you you’re right.”

“It’s not my fault.” Ollie gritted his teeth.

“I know it’s not your fault Anne broke up with you,” Keith said, “but since when did you start punching walls and throwing bats at people?”

“You kept hitting me with the ball!” Ollie said.

“Wait, wait,” Richie interrupted again. “Anne dumped you?”

“Richie, you’ve got the subtlety of a fog horn, you know that?” Keith said.

“I guess it has been a while since I really hung out with you guys,” Ollie said.

“Can I ask her out, then?” Richie asked.

“What?” Ollie and Keith said together.

“Can I ask her out?” Richie asked again. “I mean, I don’t want to ask her out if you don’t feel okay with it.”

“Are you talking about Anne?” Ollie asked with a laugh. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” Richie said. “You’re obviously not going to go out anymore. I won’t ask her if you don’t want me to.”

“Go for it,” Ollie said. “Knock yourself out.”

“Sweet!” Richie said, and left the room pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

“What’d you do that for?” Keith asked with a chuckle.

“Weren’t you just saying I needed to lighten up a bit?” Ollie said. “It’ll be good for a laugh.”

Ollie went upstairs to his bedroom. He still had some time before he needed to get ready for his softball game, so he figured he’d knock some time off studying for his upcoming history exam. His recent days with Anne hadn’t been romantic or exciting, but the monotony of spending so much time over at her place had always made it easy to study. And she studied a lot, which made it easy to stay motivated. Then again, maybe she studied a lot for the same reasons he did. Maybe he bored her to the point where she had nothing better to do than kill time with a textbook. Either way, their relationship was good for keeping up their grades, if nothing else.

Anne. I miss her already. I miss her still.

It was no use. There was no way he was going to be able to focus his mind on any history lesson, so he knew he might as well pack up his softball gear and get out of the house. Sure, his game wasn’t going to start for a couple more hours, but there were other games going on and watching other people play ball was the only thing he could think of to take his mind off reality.

With sandals on his feet, his softball bag over his right shoulder and his cleats in his left hand, he stepped quietly down the stairs and slipped successfully out the back door— he had avoided his nosy roomies and he was alone— or so he thought.

As he slid behind the wheel of his car, there was someone there next to him. There was an enormous grin on his face and a Yankees hat on his head. “Our first introduction didn’t go too well, so let’s start over again. I’m Sparks.”

Chapter 4

Every second Ollie’s mind wasn’t distracted meant that his mind went straight to thoughts of Anne, and being so deep in thought, the last thing he expected was a little Yankees-hat-wearing nuisance to be sitting in his passenger seat. As he recovered from the shock, he said, “You’d better have a good reason for being in my car, Bomber.”

“You scream like a little girl when you’re startled,” Sparks said. “What are you gonna do? Beat me up? Call the cops?”

“Something like that. Yeah.”

“Nah. You won’t. I’m here to help you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help and I don’t need it. Get out.”

“Actually, you did. I distinctly remember you saying,” his voice ascended several octaves, “‘Help me!’ back there when your car was stalled in the middle of the road.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. And I don’t talk like that.”

Sparks looked at him. “Didn’t I tell ya you were gonna get booted?”

Ollie stewed.

“I’ll tell you what. Let me hang out with you for the next few hours. By the time we get home from your softball game, if you don’t ever want to see me again… you’ll never see me again. I’ll disappear forever.”

Ollie sat and stared at him. He had a thousand questions in his brain, but wasn’t sure if he dared vocalize one. On the one hand, this guy seemed about as threatening as a guinea pig, but on the other hand he wasn’t sure if he could handle spending an evening with him. Especially since this was the day that everything in his life had fallen apart. His desire to be left alone in his misery pulled on one end of the rope and curiosity pulled on the other. In the end the two sides tugged themselves into a stalemate.

“Tell ya what, Bomber—”Ollie said.

“Sparks.”

Ollie looked at him blankly.

“Sparks. That’s my name.”

“Okay, Sparks. Tell ya what. You can… ya know, like, continue to stalk me or whatever. For now.” Ollie looked at him bemusedly. “Until I make up my mind about you, anyway—”

“I’m only here to help.”

Ollie rolled his eyes. “You keep saying that, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. Whatever it is you want from me, get to it. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say at the softball field. When it comes time for me to warm up for my game though, you gotta leave.”

“If you still want me to leave when that time comes, sure.”

“Gone for good.”

“Yep. I won’t be leaving, though. You’ll like what I have to say. I know you will.”

“You assume a lot of things.”

“I’m not assuming. I know.”

“You’re odd. Ya know that? I’m not assuming that. I know it.”

“So people tell me.”

I can’t get a second alone.
In a way it was a good thing. It kept him from wallowing in the muck of his own self-pity for now, but he knew he was going to have to mourn his loss of Anne eventually. Taking a weird stranger along for his evening ride was only delaying the inevitable.

“Turn right here,” Sparks said. “It’ll be faster.”

“Why?”

“Trust me. It’ll be faster.”

“Why would I trust you? I don’t even know you. I’ve driven to the ballpark a thousand times.”

“We’ll get stuck waiting on a train to go by if we go this way.”

“Whatever. This is the way I always go and I never get stuck at the railroad crossing.”

“Alright. If watching a train pass by is more entertaining than watching people play ball, then let’s do it Ollie’s way.”

Ollie was glad Sparks had suggested a new route. He didn’t take it, but he was more than happy to shoot the idea down. It gave him something he could control even while he felt like the world was pushing and pulling on him, taking away the things he really wanted.
Besides, driving around on country roads can’t possibly be faster. The odds of getting stuck at the railroad crossing are slim to none.

Ollie looked ahead. His heart sank as he applied the brakes and slowed the car: there was a freight train ambling along at the railroad crossing ahead. He stopped at the back end of a line of cars and listened to the clanging bells, watched the flashing red lights. “How’d you know?”

“I just did.”

“But how?”

“Sometimes I just know things.”

“You mean like you’re psychic or something?”

Again, with the grin.

“Well, which is it? Yes or no?”

“I can predict things, yeah. But it’s not like you see on TV where I close my eyes and I can see the future.”

Ollie’s brain churned, watching the words
Union Pacific
waddle slowly on rails before him, thinking of the very first time he had taken Anne on a date. The restaurant was a Salvadorian place he’d always been interested in checking out, and the food was good but the service was horrendous. That left Ollie in a tight spot. If he’d just been out with the boys that night, he might have stiffed the waiter on the tip. Isn’t the prospect of a tip supposed to be what keeps the waiter attentive and friendly? In the end all he could do was laugh with Anne and drop a gratuity much larger than the situation merited. A guy can’t leave a cheap tip on a first date; that would never impress the ladies. After dinner they had been on their way to a movie when a train stopped traffic, making them late. They missed part of the movie.
That was a great first impression, huh?

Eventually the train cleared the crossing and Ollie and Sparks were able to cross over into the south side of town.

Once at the park, Ollie sat quietly on the aluminum bleachers with Sparks. Ollie’s head followed the movement of the ball. His eyes ran the bases with each player. His brain did no moving at all, just sitting there contemplating the things that wouldn’t leave him alone.
Like Sparks.
“Why aren’t you saying anything? Aren’t you here to try to help me with something?”

“Watch this,” Sparks said. It was as if he knew what Ollie was about to say. “Ya know how that shortstop has been super cocky for the whole game, yelling at his teammates and stuff? Well, this guy coming up to bat right now is going to hit one right at him. I bet it goes right through his legs. This is gonna be great.”

Ollie did his very best to pretend like he was ignoring him. He never turned to look at Sparks because he still refused to show his curiosity. He couldn’t, however, ignore the fact that what Sparks had predicted came true. A routine ground ball zipped right between the legs of the cocky shortstop.

Ollie looked on in excitement tainted with uneasiness. “All right, all right. You’ve got my ear. How are you doing that?” Ollie said.

“Like I said, it’s not like on TV where people tap into the spirit world or something like that. It’s more like, if you were to see Keith wearing a softball uniform, carrying his softball bag, and you knew he had a game starting in 45 minutes, you’d be able to piece everything together and guess he was going to his game. It’s sort of like that.”

“I’m still not sure I know what you mean, Bomber.”

“Look, basically I have a gift. I can read people. I can see cause and effect differently than everyone else. I observe causes and then I can see how people will react to them.”

“So, like, when I’m playing the outfield and someone hits a fly ball—”

“And you know right where to run to catch it even though the ball hasn’t come down yet, yeah. Except I can see where things are most likely to go even before the guy hits the ball.”

“And you can read people too? Not just softballs and trains?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t want to sound like I’m… uh… I don’t know. It’s still a little hard to believe.”

“All right then. See that guy who’s up to bat next? He’ll walk part way to the batter’s box, then change his mind about what bat he’s gonna use, switch to an orange bat, and then he’ll pop out on the second pitch with a lazy fly ball to the first baseman.”

Ollie looked on as the ball player walked toward home plate. Quickly he turned in his tracks and hurried back to the dugout where he swapped the bat in his hand for an orange one. The batter then watched one pitch go by, took a whack at the second, and sent it straight into the air.

All the details Sparks had predicted played out before them in perfect succession, with the exception of one thing: “Hmm. I guess I was wrong,” Sparks said. “The first baseman dropped the ball.”

“Still, that’s pretty crazy.”

“I told you you’d want me to stick around.”

“The jury’s still out about you.” Ollie thought for a moment. “But I want you to stick around for my game. You good with that?”

“Yeah. You want me to tell you where to stand in the outfield for the best positioning?”

Ollie looked at him and considered things. “Sure… but you’re on a pretty short leash. Make me look stupid and you’re walking home. And not to my home, either.”

***

Ollie only had enough time for a few warm up tosses with Keith before their game started. His team had won the pre-game coin toss at home plate and had chosen to be the home team. Ollie took his normal position in left-center, but seeing Sparks sitting in the bleachers pointing to a spot on the grass fifty feet in front of where he usually stood, he started to scoot up.

“Ollie!” Keith yelled from right-center field. “We’re playing a four man outfield, not a rover. Move back.”

Ollie looked at Keith and then at Sparks, then back at Keith again before he moved back to his original position. Sparks shook his head and pointed again at the spot in front of him. Conflicted, he moved to where he could stand halfway between where Keith wanted him and where Sparks was pointing. Sparks threw his hands up in the air as if to say,
Fine. Let’s do it Ollie’s way.

On the third pitch Ollie watched the lead-off hitter smack a line drive toward him. He didn’t have enough time to fully decide if he wanted to dive for the ball or let it bounce. Consequently he went into a half-hearted slide and failed to snag the ball as it hit the ground in front of him. It bounced over his left shoulder.

After picking himself up off the grass he ran after the ball. Ollie reached it before Keith got there, hurling it back to the cutoff man as the runner slid into third.

Ollie growled in exasperation. “Hey, Keith! Don’t you think we should play a rover?”

“Not yet,” Keith yelled back. “We’ll move to rover if they keep hitting it in front of us.”

“See,” Ollie said under his breath, “told you.”
That’s for you, Sparks, if you can hear me, which you probably can.
“Okay,” Ollie said to Keith, “but if this guy hits it in front of me, I’ll move to rover.”

The same as before, Sparks was pointing at a spot in front of Ollie in the outfield, and also like before, Ollie shook his head no.

The batter gave it a mighty swing, but he lined it softly over the shortstop’s head. When the ball came to rest, it was halfway between the shortstop and Ollie. By the time he was able to get his hand on it, the runner was already safe at second. Ollie cocked his arm to throw.

“Don’t throw it!” Sparks yelled from the bleachers even before Ollie cocked his arm back. He threw it anyway.

Even though it was a perfect throw to the third baseman, the ball bounced in and out of his mitt before rolling into the opposing team’s dugout. Ollie walked back to left-center feeling frustrated.

“Hey Keith, I’m taking rover.”

“It’s only been two batters. Give it a little more time.”

“No, I’m taking rover. Trust me.”

As each new batter stood next to home plate, Ollie looked at Sparks to see if he had any wisdom to impart, but Sparks sat quietly on the bleachers with his arms folded. Finally, when there were two outs in the inning, Sparks pointed back at the fence and Ollie moved back until he had nowhere else to go. A high fly ball landed solidly in Ollie’s mitt to end the inning, but the damage had been done. The opposing team had scored seven runs.

“See?” Keith said as they jogged back toward their dugout. “Nobody else hit it to the rover spot. You only got that last one because you were playing deep.”

“You’re gonna have to trust me. Some people I’ll play up and some back.”

“Whatever.” Ollie knew that on any other day, Keith probably would have pushed him a little harder, but not today.

The first two hitters on Ollie’s team popped the ball up in the outfield— easy outs. Ollie was standing outside the dugout taking a few warm up swings when he realized Sparks was standing just a few feet away by the fence, beckoning him to come over.

“Keith is gonna hit a single,” Sparks said softly so that nobody else could hear.“ Don’t swing at the first pitch.”

“All right.”

“Hey, listen to me! You don’t think I know it, but you’re still planning to swing at the first pitch. Don’t! Hit the fourth one. Trust me.”

“Fine. I won’t swing at the first pitch. You’d better be right.”

He watched as Keith hit a grounder that snuck between the shortstop and third baseman. Now it was Ollie’s turn at the plate, with Keith on first and two outs.

Right after the pitcher released the first pitch, Sparks yelled from the stands, “Don’t swing!”