Moving Violations Page 2

  Amy circled the long way for the drive to Robin’s house, her heart pounding thinking about the evening. Usually, she looked forward to games, but today scenarios of confronting her ex ran through her head. Am I angry? Or hurt? Lost. Dammit. She climbed the stairs as Meow ran between her legs like a ninja assassin. Amy stripped and dropped the greasy items into the separate laundry basket for work clothes and stepped into the bathroom in her underwear. She picked up the clothes abandoned yesterday and flicked them toward the clothes basket. Two points. She looked at her image in the mirror. Dark hair without much style. No reason to fuss with hair going into a ponytail all day. Maybe shorter? Her eyes were the same as her mother, dark brown. Olive complexion, which was weird as everyone else in her family was lighter. Maybe the milkman really is my father? She flexed her arms, she didn’t need the gym thanks to hours turning wrenches, but on occasion, she would run. She turned to consider her backside. Yeah. She looked pretty good for just past thirty.

  A few hours in the sun, and she’d be dark. She put on a bikini and took a towel downstairs. She stopped in the kitchen and tossed a few beers into a cooler, and headed out to the backyard. She flipped the towel out and laid down, adjusting her Walkman on her head. The days before the spring solstice were her favorite, long evenings of daylight, but not scorching.

  She jumped when the cold water hit her back. “Damn it, Barberg.”

  Robin laughed. “You move pretty quick for an old woman.” Robin hosted Amy’s thirtieth drunk fest this year, and Amy was already planning for when Robin turned 30 in a few weeks. Amy had a deposit on a keg of beer and had a hot lead on a stripper that dressed like a cop.

  “You scared the shit out of me.” Amy put her sunglasses back on her face. “Asshole. You want a beer?” She opened the cooler and pulled out a long neck.

  “Just one, I got shit to do and those Mothers Against Drunk Drivers billboards are up all over town. Personally, I think I drive better after a couple beers because I focus.”

  Amy said, “No, no you don’t. Remember the time you hit the curb and I had to get you a new rim. You’d only had like three beers all night.” She stood up, collected her now wet towel and the empty cooler.

  Robin followed her up the stairs. “I like how you’ve decorated the place. What do you call this? Urban poverty meets almost living at Daddy’s?” Robin sat in the second lawn chair. “I got an extra chair in the garage if you want it. Meow looks uncomfortable on that box there.”

  “Yeah, that’d be cool.” Amy handed Robin some Pringles from the top of the mini fridge. She wiped her face with a Kleenex. "I need a shower before the game.”

  “Because you got to look good when Deb gets there. Make her regret dumping you. Don’t wear your pink compression shorts, they make your ass look huge.”

  “No danger of me getting a fat head around you,” Amy said.

  Robin chuckled. “Just helping you out.” Robin looked at her watch and popped up out of the chair. She turned as she headed out the door. “I gotta get some bubble gum before the game. You need anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “Thanks for the beer.”

  “Don’t tip at red lights,” Amy said.

  "Won't need to. This soldier is down." She put the bottle next to the recycle bin and knocked on the door jam as she left the room. Amy opened a box and shifted clothes around until she located the black shorts. She put on her softball uniform and surveyed her image in the mirror. Not too shabby. She picked up her car keys and then changed her mind. She snagged the key fob with the rabbit’s foot that held her motorcycle keys. She threw her cleats in her gear bag. She took a deep breath and marched to the carport between the garage and house.

  Chapter 3

  Amy climbed on the motorcycle with a moment of hesitation. It was true that if she got banged up during the game, it would be harder to drive home on the bike than in her Jeep, even with the stick shift. When she rode the motorcycle, she had a certain confidence and a sense of adventure. She pulled on the helmet and tugged the strap through the D ring. Deb loved this bike. Amy smiled. All the more reason to ride it. She pulled out the foot and kicked the engine to life. With a quick twist of the throttle, she was off and flying out of the driveway, her ponytail flapping on her back.

  The shifter felt odd with only tennis shoes on. She usually wore long pants and leather boots to ride, but she didn’t want to change at the ball field. At the traffic light, she revved the engine at a kid on a crotch rocket. He smiled. When the light turned, she headed left, cutting off an old man driving a Pontiac. She was halfway down the block before the car even made it into the intersection.

  Nearing 50 mph, she worked the brakes, leaned hard and skidded into the parking lot, gravel flying up behind her. At the back diamond, she pulled up and parked next to Robin’s car.

  “If that thing starts smoking and gets oil on my car, you’re dead to me,” Robin said. She put her hands on her hips. In her full softball uniform, she looked quite intimidating. At five-eight, she wasn’t that tall, but she was built solid. “I’m not kidding, Amy.”

  Amy flipped up her visor. “It purrs like a kitten.” She took a metal plate from her pocket, let the rope unwind, and slid it under the foot peg to keep the kickstand from sinking into the soft ground. Wrapping the rope over the handlebar, she pulled off her helmet. “Looks like Coach is geeked up.”

  A small framed woman was pacing back and forth across the dugout, flipping through the rule book. Her blond hair was short and curled slightly around her ears.

  Amy hung her bag on the chain link fence with a carabiner. “What’s up, Coach?”

  “The roster is supposed to be frozen after the second week. And they added Deb yesterday, citing some player that dropped out. All I’m saying is that every team will swap around all season every time some couple splits up; no offense.” Gail slapped the book closed. “I’m calling Hank tomorrow. I want Ida on our roster if that’s how they want to roll.”

  “We got enough to play?” Robin dropped her bag on the ground, slid it open and picked up her mitt. She leaned her bat against the dugout fence.

  “Yeah, Julie will be here in about fifteen. I called her yesterday.”

  Amy smiled. Julie worked at Deb’s office, and Coach knew it would piss her off to have her show up at the game. “Thanks, Gail.”

  “Oh, shoot, don’t thank me yet. If you don’t hit the dang ball first pitch, I’m benching you.” Coach Gail picked up a clipboard and headed out of the dugout.

  Amy and Robin were tossing throws to warm up when Deb arrived. She walked past them, her cigarette hanging on her lip as she fooled with her gear bag. Amy fired an atomic ball to Robin.

  Robin shook her mitt, gave Amy a stern look and tossed the ball back. “Harness the rage, girlfriend, harness the rage.”

  When they sat on the bench, Amy noticed Deb jog to second base. She knew if she kept her sunglasses on much longer, she wouldn’t be able to see as the sun continued down. For now, she could watch without people knowing if she was watching pitches or her ex.

  Julie hit an easy fly that dropped just in between the two outfielders and trotted to first. You could count on a hit, she just wasn’t running. Linda took it to a full count before blasting a shot that skipped just out of the reach of the shortstop.

  The coach stopped Amy. “Just hit the dang thing. Doesn’t need to go to Mars. Robin will clean it up, so get ready to run.” She patted her arm.

  Amy stepped into the box, and as she was getting into position, the ball whizzed into the catcher’s mitt.

  Strike.

  She stepped out of the box and glared at the pitcher, who just smiled. If that’s how you want to play it. She balanced the bat and stepped into the box. The next pitch was so far outside the catcher couldn’t pull it in. Amy stepped out and looked at Coach Gail. She made a little swinging motion with an imaginary bat. No walks.

  Amy stretched her neck, then stepped in, and a ball flew past her knees causing her to jump back. She took two steps toward the mound before she heard Robin from the On-Deck circle. “Hold it, slugger. She’s not worth it. Just hit the ball.”

  She took a deep breath, leveled the bat, and stepped in the chalk box. The next pitch was just a little outside. She stepped forward to reach it and hit the ball full force. It almost hit the pitcher in the head as it flew over. Amy started to run toward first and saw the coach point so she ran wide and headed for second. The shortstop was standing on the bag, so she threw back and slid, sending up a cloud of dust.

  Gail screamed, “Come on ump, that was a fake tag.”

  Amy stood as the ball went home. The third base coach held her hands up to hold her. Julie scored with Linda right behind her.

  Coach clapped. “Way to turn it, ladies. Come on now. No outs. Let’s hustle. Watch on second, now, tag up on a fly.”

  Deb stood near the bag, her hands on her hips. She flicked her mitt up as the ball came. She tossed the ball to the pitcher. Deb looked right through her.

  Amy smacked the dust off her pants while looking at Deb. She debated between begging Deb to reconsider and just leaving the field. Her mind was not on the game when she heard Robin yelling, “Move your ass or I’m pushing you home.”

  Amy hustled around third, skidded over the home plate and Robin came right behind her. Slapping high fives, they headed to the bench.

  The scorekeeper leaned close to Amy. “You almost stepped on the plate at-bat, you could have been out.” She sat upright. “Hon, that was a hell of a hit, but I’m telling the coach to put in a sub. You’re distracted. You’re going to get creamed out there. Here, take this clipboard and keep a double book. Or doodle. I don’t care.”

  Robin sat a cooler next to Amy. She opened the lid and pulled out a beer in a little
foam wrapper. “It’s called a koozie. Keeps your pop cold.” Amy smiled and took the beverage. By the end of the game, all the beer was gone, and Amy suddenly needed to go to the restroom before they slapped hands. Coach Gail wouldn’t be happy, but she just couldn’t do it. She paced in the damp restroom shed until she was sure that most of the players were already gone.

  Amy walked to her bike, strapped her gear bag on, and didn’t bother to take her cleats off. She straddled the seat, holding her helmet.

  Julie came by. “Hey, we’re going to the Lounge if you want.”

  Robin answered, “See you there.” She opened the trunk and put her gear in.

  “Surprised you can fit the bag in that trunk.” Amy stood back up and propped her helmet on the sissy stick. “Robin, can I ask you something?”

  “Always. What’s up?”

  “Did it seem like Deb noticed me at all?”

  Robin put a hand on her car door. “And why in the hell would I pay attention to that little bitch? She did you a favor, and if I wasn’t your best friend, I’d be dating you already. It’s going to be okay. It will. Maybe not tomorrow. Or next week. But it will be.”

  Amy’s throat tightened and her heart started to race. She pressed her lips together so they wouldn’t shake. Robin could be an ass, but she also sometimes knew just what to say. She stared at the bugs flying around the park lights. “Thanks, bud. Why don’t you go on? I need a little time.”

  “See you there?”

  “Yeah.” Amy rubbed at the corner of her eyes and sighed.

  Chapter 4

  Molly Gorman put down her Coke when the call came in about a nuisance in the park. She cranked the engine, flipped on the blue lights, and hit the gas pedal. The Chevy Caprice was still so new it smelled weird; there were certainly perks of being the boss. She’d been interim police chief for almost a month, the first woman to hold the job in Diamond Lake. Her grandfather had been the chief of police for over twenty years. That helped her seal the deal. Her uncle being on the city council didn’t hurt, either. A little nepotism canceled the discrimination against women. And she was a damn good cop.

  She pulled into the park, circling around the back lot where only one car remained. She had seen it earlier. Probably wouldn’t start. She swung around the back, and as the lights swept the field, she saw the problem.

  Some lunatic was riding a motorcycle around the softball fields while standing on the foot pegs. No helmet. Not wanting to startle the fool, she slowed the car, hoping the lights would be enough to catch his attention. If not, she’d have to use the siren, and that might cause a wreck. As she reached the last parking spot near the field, the motorcyclist showed no signs of stopping. She flipped the switch and a loud bwap, bwap rang across the fields.

  As she predicted, the driver jumped, lost his footing, and slammed hard onto the seat. The bike teetered wildly but didn’t go over completely. At least he had the sense to stop the bike and get off.

  Molly flicked off the siren, popped on the spotlight and focused on the driver. To her surprise, it was a woman in a softball uniform. She hesitated, then called in that she didn’t need backup. As she got out of the car, she grabbed her baton and slid it in her belt.

  The dirt crunched under her feet as she walked the familiar diamond, this was the first time in her work uniform and not cleats. She got close.

  “Jesus, what the hell?” she muttered to herself. She recognized the woman. She played for Gail’s team. Molly noted that her uniform sported some dirt streaked down the left leg. Must have slid.

  “Dude, you scared the fucking shit out of me,” Amy called out, wobbling back and forth as she spoke.

  Great, Molly thought to herself. She’s probably drunk. “Do you have a license on you? The park is closed after dark.”

  “Do I need a license to drive on dirt? Because I’m not on the road.” Amy put her hands on her hips.

  “You drove it here. And helmets are required.” Molly crossed her arms. She was not in the mood for a hard time.

  Amy looked at her closely. “You play shortstop for Nancy, don’t you? I hope you shoot better than that throw to first. You almost broke my fucking ankle.” She began to laugh.

  Molly bit her tongue and hoped her blush didn’t show in the dark. Who should be asking questions? “Ma’am, have you been drinking this evening?”

  Amy stopped digging in her gear bag and handed Molly the wallet. “Yes. I have. And again, I repeat, I’m not on a public road.”

  Molly would normally ask the person to take out the license, but she sensed it would only provoke more hostility. She was starting to regret turning down backup. She opened the wallet and saw the image and the name Amatta Gilberta. “You play for Gail?”

  “Yes, I do.” Amy leaned back and screamed, “When I’m not benched because Deb is playing for the other team and making me lose my fucking mind!” She collapsed to the ground, kneeling, and sat back on her feet. Tears began to roll down her face.

  Molly considered the situation. By the book, she should tag her and put her in jail to sober up. The list piled up fast: no helmet, reckless driving, trespassing, drunk driving. The blow limit was .01 and most women did that with two drinks. She looked at the woman on the ground. “You stay here, and I will be right back.”

  Amy didn’t answer.

  Molly trotted to her squad car. She picked up the mic and called out her license numbers. It came back clean.

  She stood and closed the door. Regardless of what she did, Amy shouldn’t be riding that bike. She walked toward the figure now sitting on the motorcycle. “I’m going to have to ask you to get off the bike.”

  Amy seemed to have collected herself. “Look, I’m sorry about before. I’m having a sort of bad night. What’s your name? Julie?”

  “Molly. And we have what I call a situation here. I can’t leave you here and I can’t let you drive.”

  Amy opened her mouth, and then closed it. She finally said, “I’m not sure I understand.” She stood and swung her leg over the seat.

  “I know everyone in town knows everybody’s business, but I also don’t want you to have an accident.” Molly handed Amy her wallet back. “I’m not taking you in. Where do you live?”

  “A block down from the Gilbert Garage on fourth.”

  “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.” Molly offered her arm, but Amy ignored it. “How much have you had to drink?”

  Amy grinned. “Just one.”

  What a smart ass. “One what?” Molly reconsidered her decision.

  “One twelve pack.” Amy started to snicker, then caught herself. “I’m just kidding. A couple beers, I guess. Can I get my gear?”

  A couple of beers? Bullshit. “No worries, I’ll take it.” Molly took the bag off the motorcycle and escorted her to the police car. “I’m sorry, but you have to ride in the back. I won’t cuff you or anything.”

  Amy put her hands out together. “That might be fun.”

  “We could still head to the station.” Molly held the door. “Reckless driving, no helmet, drunk and disorderly…”

  “Point taken.” Amy quickly took a seat.

  As she sat, Molly grabbed her head so it wouldn’t hit. “Just a habit.” Amy's face fell and dark hair hung in her eyes. Her muscled arms were bare. “Are you cold? I’ve got a blanket in the trunk.”

  “No,” Amy replied, although she was visibly shaking.

  “Have it your way.” Molly shut the door.

  “At Burger King,” Amy slurred.

  Molly got into the car, pulling on her seat belt. “It’s better to get a ride without going in the meat wagon. And this way you have your bike in one piece; you can come and get it in the morning.”

  Molly turned back when she heard the yell.

  “You’re not just leaving my bike there, are you?” Amy was slapping the wire in the window. “Son of a bitch. If it gets stolen, I’m going to be really pissed.”

  Molly asked, “Are you sure you want to yell at me?”

  Amy screamed, “You don’t fucking understand. It’s an antique. I just finished rebuilding it. What if some jackass knocks it over? It’ll be all your goddam fault!”

  “I think you need to reconsider that point.” Molly flicked off the blue lights.