It wasjust his way of relaxing, Brad Gordon knew, but try explaining that to anyone else. A single guy had to be careful these days. That was why he always brought a PDA and a cell phone whenever he sat in the school bleachers. He’d pretend to send messages and talk on the cell phone, like a busy parent. Maybe an uncle. And he didn’t come all the time, just once or twice a week during soccer season. When he didn’t have anything else to do.

In the afternoon sun, the girls running around in their shorts and knee socks looked lovely. Seventh-graders-coltish legs, budding breasts that hardly bounced as they ran. Some of them had real racks on them, and butts that were developed, but most retained an endearing, child-like quality. Not yet women, but no longer girls. Innocent, at least for a while.

Brad took his usual seat, halfway up the bleachers and over to one side, as if he were keeping some distance for his private business calls. He nodded to the other regulars, grandparents and Hispanic maids, as he took out his PDA and set his cell phone on his knee. He got his stylus and began to peck at the PDA, acting as if he were too busy to look at the girls.

“Excuse me.”

He looked up. An Asian girl was sitting down next to him. He had never seen her before, but she was cute. Maybe eighteen or so.

“I’m really, really sorry,” she said, “but I have to call Emily’s parents”-she nodded toward one of the girls on the field-“and my battery died. Could I possibly use your phone? Just for a minute?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, handing her the phone.

“It’s just a local call.”

“No problem.”

She called quickly, saying something about it being the third quarter and they could come and pick her up soon. He pretended not to listen. She handed the phone back to him, her hand touching his. “Hey, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I haven’t seen you at any of the games before,” she said. “Do you come a lot?”

“Not as often as I’d like. Work, you know.” Bradley pointed to the field. “Which one is Emily?”

“The center forward.” She pointed to a black girl, on the other side of the field.

“I’m her friend. Kelly.” She extended her hand, shook his.

“Brad,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Brad. And you’re here with…?”

“Oh, my niece is at the dentist today,” he said. “I didn’t find out until I was already here.” He shrugged.

“Nice uncle. She must really appreciate you coming. But you don’t seem old enough to be the uncle of one of the girls.”

He smiled. For some reason he felt nervous. Kelly was sitting very close, her thigh almost touching his. He couldn’t use his PDA or his phone. Nobody ever sat close like that.

“My parents are so old,” Kelly said. “My dad was fifty when I was born.” She stared out at the field. “I guess that’s why I like older guys.”

He thought, How old is she? But he couldn’t think of a way to ask her without being obvious.

She held her hands up, scrutinized them, fingers spread wide. “I just got my nails done,” she said. “You like this color?”

“Yes. Very good color.”

“My dad hates it when I get my nails done. He thinks it makes me look too mature. But I think it’s a good color. Hot love. That’s the name of the color.”

“Yes…”

“Anyway, all the girls get their nails done. I mean, comeon. I was getting my nails done in seventh grade. And besides, I graduated.”

“Oh, you graduated?”

“Yes. Last year.” She had opened her purse and was rummaging around inside it. Along with the lipstick, car keys, iPod, and makeup cases, he noticed a couple of joints wrapped in plastic and a ribbon of colored condoms that made a crackling sound when she pushed them around.

He looked away. “So, are you in college now?”

“No,” she said. “I took a year off.” She smiled at him. “My grades weren’t too good. Having too much fun.” She pulled out a small plastic bottle of orange juice. “Do you have any vodka?”

“Not on me,” he said, surprised.

“Gin?”

“Uh, no…”

“But you could get some, right?” She smiled at him.

“I suppose I could,” he said.

“I promise I’d pay you back,” she said, still smiling.

That was how it started.

They left the playing field separately, several minutes apart. Bradley went first, and he waited in his car in the parking lot, watching her walk toward him. She was wearing flip-flops, a short skirt, and a lacy top that looked like something you would wear to bed. But all the girls dressed that way these days. Her huge bag banged against her side as she walked. She lit a cigarette and then climbed into her car. She was driving a black Mustang. She waved to him.

He started his engine, pulled out, and she followed him.

He thought,Don’t get your hopes up. But the truth was, he already had.