Page 4 of Silver Player

“I understand the mechanics of sex, Roxie.” When she formally calls me William, it reminds me of the disappointing ring to my father’s voice when he addresses me by my full name, and I hate it. I shorten her name to spite her because she hates when I use the nickname. “Please spare me the clinical explanation.”

“Oh, do you need the more detailed one called consequences of sex? After ejaculation, a sperm travels up the channel…” Roxanne pauses to ripple her hand as if imitating a fish swimming through water.

“Thank you. Please keep your limited sexpertise to yourself.” A shiver slithers down my spine as though the thought of Roxanne having sexual relations revolts me. Who says ejaculation, anyway? I don’t ejaculate into anything other than condoms. Always condoms.

“And then, one lucky swimmer wins the race and forces its way into…” Roxanne pauses to shove her index finger into her opposite fisted hand again, working at her visual display. “And at the end of nine months, voila!, a baby.”

My jaw clenches. What I want to know is how do I know this Sadie girl is mine.

Mine? I have a daughter. Maybe.

I shake the thought and will away the sudden patter inside my chest. I clutch at my BRMP shirt near my heart and then smooth my hand down the front of it to disguise the action.

“I have no reason to believe she’s mine,” I argue although another pinch occurs inside my rib cage.

“There’s also the mechanics of a faulty condom. Then again, that would be considered operator error, so—”

“Roxanne, seriously, shut up.” My voice growls at her, and her expression softens for the breadth of a second. She looks away from me, glancing at the open door.

“You can have a paternity test done.” She nods all clinical and practical, which contrasts with her overall appearance. She looks like a hippie with her waves of white and silver hair, and armful of bangling bracelets, and I hate that she’s the voice of reason. “A swab in your cheek sent to a lab for testing will confirm everything.”

Now, I’m the one disgusted, and I don’t even know why.

“I’m not swabbing anything or pissing in a cup or…”

“Sorry, pal, but you already did the pissing. On my sister’s life. Time to man up.” Roxanne stands straighter while she speaks and then blinks at me. Before I can read the expression on her face, she quickly turns and stomps out of my office with the grand exit of slamming the door.

3

Men

[Roxanne]

This is all my fault, and I knew it the moment I heard Sadie double-timing up the wooden back stairs to my apartment above the bookstore.

“I hate him,” she muttered as she climbed. I surmised who she meant, which sent me on a mission to cross the street.

“I hate that Billy Harrington with a passion myself,” I grumble as I march back out of the pub.

The first time I met Billy Harrington was back when we were kids, but he didn’t remember me, which was apparent when I met him for the second time upon returning to Blue Ridge. That night, I called the cops on him and some party he was having at his pub.

And as they say, the third time’s the charm because the third time I saw him, he was screwing some woman up against the brick wall in the alley behind his pub.

Yep. I hate him.

Although that isn’t really true, a vital part of me whines.

“Shut up,” I argue with myself as I stomp back to my bookstore. Blue Ridge Microbrewery and Pub faces Main Street as does my place, but our businesses are neighbors by way of Third Avenue cutting between us. BookEnds. That’s my little cozy niche in life, and it generally makes me happy.

Grace Eton works today, and I’m so grateful as I made a rather hasty exit from my office in the back of the store with thoughts of maiming Billy. I didn’t need to know all the details from Sadie to know what happened.

Billy rejected her.

This whole hullabaloo started when I registered my niece for high school a week ago. I needed to show proof of guardianship, which I don’t have yet but have filed for in the local courts. She needed a birth certificate, and like a badly told joke, the name of her father was blank. Of course, I’d always known his identity, but as I loved my older sister, and she swore me to secrecy, I never told another soul, including Sadie. Sadie stared at the empty space as the school registrar filled in my name as guardian instead of her mother and raised a questioning eyebrow at me about the missing father.

During the week, Sadie and I were discussing some of the who’s who in the community now that she lives with me, and his name just popped out.

“Then there’s Billy Harrington who owns the pub across the street.” Once those words escaped, there was no reeling them back in, and for a moment, silence hung in the air like a freshly caught fish stunned by oxygen.