"KELSO'S SWING" [CHAPTER 27]
Kelso sat at his usual spot in Murphy's Pub and watched Eli schmooze her at the other end of the bar. She was with a girl friend and in the tightest jeans he'd seen yet, black vest, and heels. While Eli whispered in her ear, emhatic, animated, she glanced briefly at Kelso, who puffed his cigar and made a show of being preoccupied as he scanned the crowd. Eli continued his spiel. Then he left her alone and before waiting on a customer glanced at Kelso with a slight nod indicating some measure of optimism.
Kelso kept an eye on Kaycee as she and her friend walked around the small end of the rectangle and ended up at the dartboard, where they were of course welcomed by regulars only too pleased to buy them drinks and ogle Kaycee as she took her time and arched her back and protruded her ass while aiming her dart at the board before releasing it in a smooth, compact stroke.
A few minutes later she was beside Kelso, her perfume just subtle enough to invite a promise all new to him. He wore shorts and a T shirt and his hair sprouted wildly. Her pink lipstick glistened. “Well,” she said. “Eli worked over time to get me to listen to your sorry ass for five minutes, max. So shoot.”
Kelso said, quickly, “You have no business playing for Murphy's.”
Kaycee thrust a hip at him in a challenging pose. “Oh yeah? Why's that?”
“Cuz they're a bunch of show ponies only interested in themselves, and your coach doesn't know his ass. You should play for us. You're like us. You'd fit right in.”
She placed her hands on her hips and looked Kelso straight in the eye. “Why would I play for you when you're the biggest asshole on the beach and everybody hates you...even your own players?”
“That's exactly why you should play for me. I don't pretend to be anything but the bastard I am. But I can coach. Your coach, he's sweet on the firstbaseman and coddles the shortstop. You've got great untapped potential, and you could be their best player, but you're not, because you have no discipline.”
Hands off hips, she stepped right up on him. “Bullll-shit! I'm disciplined.”
“Look, I can make you the best player in the league, I can fine-tune your swing. You're too raw. But I like your fire. You'd like my girls. They party, and there's no internal bickering and jealousy, because they all band together to hate me. I'm losing my thirdbaseman. I'd like to put you there.”
Kaycee thrust her chin at him. “I hate third. I've played shortstop all my life. You know why they got me at third? Fucking Cindy, coach's little pet.”
“We got a good shortstop. I'm offering you third. I think the girls'll welcome you with open arms. They're hungry to win.”
She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back and tilted her head slightly to appraise Kelso. “You are a devilish bastard.”
“I've been called far worse.”
She unfolded her arms. “Tell you the truth, there is jealousy on our team. Everybody plays for themselves. Your gals, they play for each other. You've done a good job with 'em. Our girls think you're a crazy lunatic. You are totally bizarre.”
Kelso picked up his cigar from the tray, took a puff, then gazed into Kaycee's emerald eyes, which did not blink. “Kaycee,” he said. “I want you to play for me. If you become the player you can be, and should be, you'll become the woman you can be, and should be.”
Her hands were back on her hips. “And what kind of woman is that?”
Kelso answered quickly. “That's for you to find out.”
Eli was suddenly there, pouring them out two shots of chilled Schnapps. He did one of his own, watched them stare at each other, went back to work. Kaycee gazed at the shots, then at Kelso, tilted a hip at him, thrust out her chin. She almost smiled. “That look in your eyes—it's pure imp. You're not tryna get me on your team so you can get in my pants, are you?”
“Absolutely not. I want you on my team because you can play and you got a big personality. We need both if we want to take another step up and win.”
“Our coach, he thinks he's god's gift to women. He's tried to get in all our pants. In his own way, he's a bigger asshole than you.” She picked up her shot, as did Kelso. “Your girls, they'll probably think you're getting me on the team to get in my pants. That's the way women think.”
“Let 'em think what they want. And don't flatter yourself.” He lifted his shot glass toward her. She tipped it, kept her eyes on him as they bolted the shots. She didn't wince.
“Truth is, I'm sick of those girls anyway. So damn catty.” She offered her hand. Kelso shook it, surprised by its sandpaper texture. She was strong. “I don't know why, but yeh, okay, I'll play for you. I like your girls. They're cool.”
When she turned and began walking away, Kelso called out, “Where's your pretty boy steady?”
“Which one?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with pure teasing sexual mischief. She winked and turned away, shook her ass in exclamation, and joined the dart crew without looking back. Nor did she look his way again, so totally immersed was in playing darts and socializing with her friends.
Eli slithered up to Kelso and poured out two shooters. They downed them. Eli said, “Spike's been trying to get her on Callahan's for two years. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Eli, I owe you plenty.”
Eli leaned toward Kelso, placed both hands on the bar in an expansive gesture and leered at him, all conspiracy. “You owe me nothing. She's nothing but trouble, my friend, but the best ones always are.”
Kelso kept an eye on Kaycee as she and her friend walked around the small end of the rectangle and ended up at the dartboard, where they were of course welcomed by regulars only too pleased to buy them drinks and ogle Kaycee as she took her time and arched her back and protruded her ass while aiming her dart at the board before releasing it in a smooth, compact stroke.
A few minutes later she was beside Kelso, her perfume just subtle enough to invite a promise all new to him. He wore shorts and a T shirt and his hair sprouted wildly. Her pink lipstick glistened. “Well,” she said. “Eli worked over time to get me to listen to your sorry ass for five minutes, max. So shoot.”
Kelso said, quickly, “You have no business playing for Murphy's.”
Kaycee thrust a hip at him in a challenging pose. “Oh yeah? Why's that?”
“Cuz they're a bunch of show ponies only interested in themselves, and your coach doesn't know his ass. You should play for us. You're like us. You'd fit right in.”
She placed her hands on her hips and looked Kelso straight in the eye. “Why would I play for you when you're the biggest asshole on the beach and everybody hates you...even your own players?”
“That's exactly why you should play for me. I don't pretend to be anything but the bastard I am. But I can coach. Your coach, he's sweet on the firstbaseman and coddles the shortstop. You've got great untapped potential, and you could be their best player, but you're not, because you have no discipline.”
Hands off hips, she stepped right up on him. “Bullll-shit! I'm disciplined.”
“Look, I can make you the best player in the league, I can fine-tune your swing. You're too raw. But I like your fire. You'd like my girls. They party, and there's no internal bickering and jealousy, because they all band together to hate me. I'm losing my thirdbaseman. I'd like to put you there.”
Kaycee thrust her chin at him. “I hate third. I've played shortstop all my life. You know why they got me at third? Fucking Cindy, coach's little pet.”
“We got a good shortstop. I'm offering you third. I think the girls'll welcome you with open arms. They're hungry to win.”
She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back and tilted her head slightly to appraise Kelso. “You are a devilish bastard.”
“I've been called far worse.”
She unfolded her arms. “Tell you the truth, there is jealousy on our team. Everybody plays for themselves. Your gals, they play for each other. You've done a good job with 'em. Our girls think you're a crazy lunatic. You are totally bizarre.”
Kelso picked up his cigar from the tray, took a puff, then gazed into Kaycee's emerald eyes, which did not blink. “Kaycee,” he said. “I want you to play for me. If you become the player you can be, and should be, you'll become the woman you can be, and should be.”
Her hands were back on her hips. “And what kind of woman is that?”
Kelso answered quickly. “That's for you to find out.”
Eli was suddenly there, pouring them out two shots of chilled Schnapps. He did one of his own, watched them stare at each other, went back to work. Kaycee gazed at the shots, then at Kelso, tilted a hip at him, thrust out her chin. She almost smiled. “That look in your eyes—it's pure imp. You're not tryna get me on your team so you can get in my pants, are you?”
“Absolutely not. I want you on my team because you can play and you got a big personality. We need both if we want to take another step up and win.”
“Our coach, he thinks he's god's gift to women. He's tried to get in all our pants. In his own way, he's a bigger asshole than you.” She picked up her shot, as did Kelso. “Your girls, they'll probably think you're getting me on the team to get in my pants. That's the way women think.”
“Let 'em think what they want. And don't flatter yourself.” He lifted his shot glass toward her. She tipped it, kept her eyes on him as they bolted the shots. She didn't wince.
“Truth is, I'm sick of those girls anyway. So damn catty.” She offered her hand. Kelso shook it, surprised by its sandpaper texture. She was strong. “I don't know why, but yeh, okay, I'll play for you. I like your girls. They're cool.”
When she turned and began walking away, Kelso called out, “Where's your pretty boy steady?”
“Which one?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with pure teasing sexual mischief. She winked and turned away, shook her ass in exclamation, and joined the dart crew without looking back. Nor did she look his way again, so totally immersed was in playing darts and socializing with her friends.
Eli slithered up to Kelso and poured out two shooters. They downed them. Eli said, “Spike's been trying to get her on Callahan's for two years. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Eli, I owe you plenty.”
Eli leaned toward Kelso, placed both hands on the bar in an expansive gesture and leered at him, all conspiracy. “You owe me nothing. She's nothing but trouble, my friend, but the best ones always are.”
PLEASE HELP KEEP DELLFRANKLIN.COM ALIVE WITH A $5.00 DONATION
