chapter 27
TAYLOR GLANCED AT the girl in the passenger seat as they headed away from Independence National Park. Underneath the prickly outer coat she’d grown to insulate her from a world where she felt she didn’t fit, Devon Locke was not only a frighteningly smart girl but had a sweet nature, too. Taylor had enjoyed every minute she’d spent with Ryan’s daughter, at least since the girl started to thaw at the amusement park. Keeping Devon busy had helped.
Today, they were doing the tourist thing around town. And despite her initial reluctance to embrace Philadelphia sightseeing, Devon had gradually warmed to the idea. Now, as they drove west on Market Street toward the museum district, the girl enthused about Independence National Historic Park where they’d spent the last three hours before grabbing a quick lunch at a nearby sandwich place.
“This morning made all that Revolutionary history stuff more real to me,” Devon said. “It’s all so boring when you just read stuff in textbooks.”
“This city has such a rich history,” Taylor said as she rolled down the window to let in some of the warm, fragrant spring air. April had always been her favorite month growing up in Philly. The trees had those fresh leaves whose special shade of green heralded the start of the growing season.
“It’s my first time here.” Devon’s head craned to look up as they looped slowly around the imposing and historic City Hall, topped by William Penn’s statue.
“Really?” That surprised Taylor, given that Devon had grown up only three hundred miles away.
“Dad and I haven’t traveled a lot. He always said that he was already on the road too much for baseball, and he was sick of hotels by the end of the season.”
“I guess my family wasn’t much different.” Taylor had traveled extensively for her work, but had never been overseas or even to Mexico. Too busy with her job responsibilities. Maybe too reluctant to travel alone. One awful trip to a singles resort in the Caribbean a few years ago had soured her on that option.
Devon smiled, as if remembering something that had made her happy. “Dad took me to Disney World three times, though. I loved all that stuff and want to go back again some time.”
Good for you, Ryan. “Wow, three times before you were fourteen. That’s a pretty good dad, I’d say.”
Devon went silent for about half a minute and then nodded. “He’s always tried hard. I guess I don’t make it easy sometimes, though. Like now.”
Taylor decided to let that admission pass, though she was pleased inside. She turned up Benjamin Franklin Parkway and pointed to a complex of brick buildings on her left. “That’s where I went to school, Devon. Friends Select.”
Devon ducked her head to look up through the windshield at the high-rise office building adjacent to the school. “You mean Friends, as in Quakers?”
Taylor nodded. “The Friends founded it in 1833, and it’s been at this same location since 1885. It’s open to everybody, and takes students from kindergarten to grade twelve.”
“God, it looks pretty big. Did you like it there?”
“The high-rise beside it is leased to some corporation, so the school’s not really all that big. But, yes, I absolutely loved going there for high school. I still keep in touch with a couple of my teachers.”
Though I`m pathetically guilty of neglecting my friends.
Taylor had made a vow to re-connect with at least a few of her high school and university pals when she returned to the city, but so far she`d been too busy to think about anything other than the Patriots. And then she`d been away in Florida half the time, anyway.
“Is it snotty like Edenwood?” Devon gave a derisive little snort. “I hate private schools full of spoiled little bitches.”
Taylor shook her head. “Anything but. There’s a good mix of kids, and the school focuses on moral values, especially tolerance and compassion. It’s very strong academically, too. Small classes, wonderful teachers.” She paused for a moment to let that sink in before continuing. “You know, I think you’d probably like it, Devon. To a person, everybody I went to school with there was glad they went.”
She’d spent the last few days thinking about what might work for Devon, especially if Ryan remained with the Patriots. To her, transferring Devon to Friends seemed like a no-brainer. But she didn’t want to sing its praises too loudly for fear of making the girl suspicious that Taylor was trying to do a sales job on her. Who knew what Ryan would think of such an idea, anyway?
Devon’s brow furrowed. “I really want to go to public school. It can be in a ghetto, as far as I’m concerned. I won’t go back to Edenwood or any place like it. I was fine in public school in Pittsburgh before Dad exiled me to Edenwood.”
Not according to Ryan, but Taylor wasn’t about to get in a debate with Devon over what had actually happened. Not smart, and not her place, anyway.
“I hear you.” She reached over and gave the girl’s hand a quick squeeze.
Taylor swung around the Art Museum and followed Kelly Drive past Boathouse Row, pointing out the rowing crews training on the Schuykill River. Devon listened as Taylor played tour guide, but didn’t say much for several minutes.
As they crossed over the river and took the ramp for I-76 north, heading for Valley Forge, Devon cleared her throat and said, “So, do you really think I could fit in at that Friends School?”
* * *
RYAN LOOKED UP from his magazine to catch a glimpse of Dembinski making his way toward the back of the team plane. The GM, his tie loosened and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows, stopped and tapped Marriner, Ryan’s seat mate, on the shoulder. Marriner, who had been engrossed in the music coming from his iPhone, raised his head and glowered at him.
“Switch seats with me for a couple of minutes, Marriner, okay?” Dembinski said. “I want to talk to Locke.”
Marriner cast Ryan a sympathetic glance before slowly getting to his feet. Usually a visit from the GM spelled nothing good. Still, Ryan thought, it wasn’t exactly normal to deliver bad news while heading home after a three-game sweep of a road series. In the clubhouse and on the bus to the airport, the atmosphere had been party-like.
Ryan figured he’d played well enough to merit more starts in the coming week. He’d banged out three hits and had two walks in thirteen trips to the plate. No RBI’s, but he’d scored two runs. And most importantly, he hadn’t been charged with an error. A shaky underhanded toss to the pitcher in the eighth yesterday had almost been his undoing, though. It had left him sucking in air as he jogged back into the dugout, his heart thudding so hard his chest wall hurt.
Had that ultimately harmless bumble been enough to bring down Dembinski’s wrath?
Once he’d settled into the seat, Dembinski stuck out his hand. “I just wanted to congratulate you on a good series, Locke.”
Holy shit.
Those words were about the last he’d have expected out of the GM’s mouth. He grabbed Dembinski’s hand and gave it a solid shake. “I appreciate that.”
“You looked comfortable out there, at least from where I was sitting. How did you feel? Any yips at all?”
“Everything felt fine,” Ryan said, mentally wincing at the lie.
“Ault and Delgado were satisfied, despite that little f*ck-up in the eighth.”
Ryan tried to give a casual shrug. “I thought I might have time to step on the bag myself, and when I saw it was going to be too close a play for that, I kind of rushed my toss.”
“Well, it worked out okay in the end, so no big deal.” Dembinski’s eyes narrowed as he shifted his body to look more directly at Ryan. “Look, I figured Taylor was overreacting when she pushed me to ship you off to that shrink. After the Miami series, I don’t see any good reason to force you to miss more time by sending you to New York. We need your bat in the lineup.”
While pure relief should have flowed through Ryan’s body on hearing those welcome words, he was surprised to feel something quite different. In fact, his initial reaction was anger—anger that Dembinski was dissing Taylor behind her back.
“That’s good, but I’m sure Taylor was just doing what she thought was best for the team,” he said gruffly. “And best for me, too. I can’t blame her for that.”
The words came out easily, much to Ryan’s surprise.
Dembinski shot him a curious look, his lips curling into something of a smarmy smile. “Ah, yes. That’s the way it is, is it?”
Ryan didn’t like either the look or the question. “What are you talking about?”
Dembinski snorted, still smiling. “Well, you two have been pretty, uh, close since practically the day of the trade. And don’t bother trying to deny it. It hasn’t exactly been a state secret, you know.”
Jesus. Ryan couldn’t help wondering if Dembinski had set up this whole conversation to lay some kind of trap for him. Or for Taylor. But hadn’t the GM always been a big booster of hers? Surely Dembinski couldn’t be bent out of shape that they’d dated a little?
The GM gave him a patronizing pat on the forearm. “Well, the word on the street is that it’s over for you two, anyway. And believe me, Ryan, that’s a good thing. For both of you.”
That sounded way too much like a threat, and Ryan reacted instinctively. “Well, you can take that little nugget and shove it, pal.”
Not exactly devastating repartee, but at least I didn’t lose it and slug the bastard.
“For a guy whose ass is on the line, that wasn’t exactly the smartest thing to say,” Dembinski snarled.
Ryan glared at him. “Is that a threat? Well, you do what you gotta do, boss. I’m not some raw rookie who wets his pants when you bark, so don’t try and tell me what I can and can’t do off the field. Whether there was anything to those rumors or not, I’d be giving you exactly the same answer—it’s none of your business.”
“No?” Dembinski sneered as he got up. “Actually, you’re wrong, because there isn’t one f*cking thing that goes on with this team that isn’t my business.” He leaned down until he was almost in Ryan’s face. “We’ll talk again soon.”
Ryan ignored the barely veiled threat, flipping open his magazine and staring down into it until the GM headed back up the aisle.
Maybe he’d just sealed his fate with the mercurial and proud GM, but there was no way he was going to lie down and take that kind of crap. Whatever Dembinski decided to do with him, he’d have to live with it, because he couldn’t live with himself otherwise.
Still, his gut twisted into a hard knot at the thought of what this whole thing might mean for Taylor. Everybody on the team thought that she was the GM’s fair-haired girl, an up-and-comer who had Dembinski’s ear and whose advice was favored over that of the other AGM’s. But the tone he’d used when he spoke about her just now made Ryan think she’d definitely fallen hard off that pedestal.
And how much of that could be laid at his door? Taylor had put herself on the line for him, again and again, exposing herself to help him and to be with him, and all Ryan had done lately was push her away. When it came to being a selfish prick, maybe Dembinski wasn’t the only one who could be found guilty as charged.
He stared blindly out the airplane window, barely taking in the view of blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Should he tell Taylor about this conversation, knowing how much it would hurt her? Ryan quickly came to a conclusion. As painful as it would be, he knew it was the right thing to do—for both of them.
And maybe there were a few other things he needed to do, too—like facing up to the truth.