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“Yes, yes. Joe. What a young stud that man was.”
“What happened?” Karen asks, stopping what she’s doing and listening to the conversation.
“It ran its course. He ended up marrying Marilyn.” She goes back to straightening up the rosebuds that don’t need straightening.
“Marilyn? As in Marilyn Monroe?” I ask, completely dumbfounded.
“You dated Joe DiMaggio?” Payton whispers, her shock as plain as the look on her face.
“Anyway,” Grandma says, waving her hand as if it’s no big deal. “You’re working with one? What’s his name?”
“Sawyer Randall.” Just saying the name makes my heart start to beat a wee bit faster.
Grandma pulls out her phone and starts to type. I glance over at Payton, curious as to what she’s doing. Did we bore her enough that she decided to check her email?
“There,” she says with a victorious smile.
“What did you do?” Payton asks, stepping up beside Grandma and glancing down at her phone.
“I went to that Twitterbook. He has a stellar ass, AJ. I made sure to tell him,” she says, clicking around on her phone.
“You told him?”
“She did,” Payton confirms, reading the screen. “What a magnificent ass on that @sawyerrandall. I’ve seen plenty in my day and can’t wait to get my hands on it. #SexySawyer #BestAssEver,” Payton glances my way, fighting laughter.
“You’re incorrigible.”
Grandma continues to click through her phone. “Have you seen the Sports Illustrated spread he did wearing only his cleats and a backward ball cap? His glove is in the way of the goods, but I can tell he’s packing. I have a nose for these things,” she says, turning the phone to show me the picture she found.
And there it is.
Sawyer Randall standing at third base, his legs spread wide, as he crouches down to catch a ball. And yes, that glove is positioned just right. I can’t imagine how many takes it took to capture this shot.
Lucky photographer.
“That’s hot,” Payton chimes in, a wide smile on her face.
“Knock that off. You’re married now.”
“Married, yes. Dead, no. There are no rules against looking, AJ.”
“Truth,” Grandma adds with a decisive head nod.
“Wait a minute,” Payton says, grabbing the phone from Grandma’s hand. My stomach starts to tighten as she studies the photo. It’s only a matter of time now, and fortunately, I don’t have to wait long before my torture begins. “That’s him!” she proclaims.
I turn my attention to Karen beside me, helping her clean up small scraps of greenery and baby’s breath from the large stainless steel workstation.
“Holy shit! You slept with Sawyer Randall?” She just couldn’t keep this shit to herself, could she? Now she opens her big mouth in front of Grandma, who won’t let this thing slide on a cold day in Hell.
“AJ! You were feeding the kitty with this gorgeous ball player? How? When? Why didn’t you share the deets?”
“Thanks a lot,” I grumble at my traitorous sister. She gives me an apologetic look as she shrugs her shoulders. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Liar,” Payton smirks. “I saw the way you were eye-fucking him at Lucky’s that night.” She turns and glances at Grandma. “It was so hot, even I needed a cigarette.”
Rolling my eyes, I keep my attention on the little clippings of waste. “It wasn’t what you think.” I can feel their eyes on me as I pretend to dust off the remains of nonexistent leaves. “We didn’t actually sleep together, though we might have slept together.”
“Wait, what?” Karen asks, glancing to Payton to see if she understood.
