I’d been able to avoid the press the past few games as I waited for my next rotation, but I was up and knew I couldn’t avoid them today. When I walked into the locker room, Coach was the first person I saw.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Can I trust you on the mound today, son?”
I nodded, meeting him his eyes. “Yes, sir. I have some making up to do. To you and our fans.”
He nodded, dismissing me, and I headed to my locker to get dressed for pre-game practice. I was feeling lighter, then ran into Ace.
“I’m not done with you yet, boy,” he warned with the smirk I’d come to loathe.
I smirked right back. After all, Whitney was gone, my reputation was smeared, and my jaw was still swollen as all hell. What else could this bastard do to me?
“Hope you have a good game too, Ace,” I said, deciding to simply take the high road on this one.
Hours later, the game was about to begin, and I stepped to the mound, turning to face my catcher and the empty seats behind him, ignoring the boos coming from the stand when my name was called.
I refused to look up at the skybox. Refused to look anywhere but at the plate, and the batter who was stepping up to it.
Strike.
Hell yeah.
Strike two.
Fuck yeah.
Strike three, and I knew I’d be alright.
And I was.
As each batter took the plate, I mentally scanned through their statistics, their weaknesses, and their strengths as they stood there staring me down. My fingers rolled around the ball as the catcher offered his options, my head shaking until we agreed with where my fingers would lie on the seams, and I nodded.
A swing and a miss. Three times. You’re out.
I didn’t believe this team was worried about our game today, especially since I’d fallen apart and looked to be out of my groove. Well, boys, you should have come prepared because golden arm is back and thirsty for blood.
Every inning, I struck out batter after batter. Our guys slammed the hell out of the balls pitched to them and scored seven runs by the fourth inning. Me fucking included. Fans were cheering as I stepped on the base. Looked like all was forgiven.
By the sixth, I had their batters all jammed up. My pitches were so precise to each batters’ weakness, I was unstoppable. In the seventh inning, I expected to be pulled. I honestly had no idea how many balls I’d thrown over the plate.
But Coach just leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a little smile on his face. Alrighty then, I’ll keep going.
I finished the entire game, something that rarely happens anymore, with another no-hitter. I’d almost thrown a perfect game. Adrenaline rushed through my veins like fire eating up paper. Everyone cheered, came to lift me off my feet and pat me on the back. Everyone except Ace.
Fuck him.
The press loved me again, and I answered question after question for nearly an hour after the game. I signed balls for another hour, doing my best to make up for being such an ass. I smiled for selfies and shook hands. These were my fans, they deserved better than what I’d been giving them.
The locker was mostly cleared out by the time I got back in there, which was a blessing. The few remaining were talking about the party at Ace’s.
“You going?” Marty asked as I got iced up and went through post-game rehab.
“I wasn’t invited,” I said with a laugh. “Not that I would anyway.”
“Want me to go? Do some recon?”
“Really?” I couldn’t imagine Marty as a spy, at least not a very good one. “Sure, you could do that,” I said, deciding it was best to just not argue with him. Plus, he looked excited to be playing 007.
He hung out with me until I was finished and was ready to head to my SUV. Marty waved as he climbed into his red truck, and I laughed as I realized he was scampering off to be a mole, something he could never pull off. There was nothing smooth about Marty. He didn’t have many friends, aside from Frank, so it wasn’t like anyone would even tell him what was going on, if there was, in fact, something going on at all. Oh well, it would keep him busy for the night. Now I just needed to find something to keep myself busy.
***
I sat out by my pool with my phone in hand. It was hot outside, the air thick and muggy and a dip in the cool water sounded refreshing, but I couldn’t get motivated to do it. I didn’t want to do anything. I dialed Whitney’s number and got the same “mailbox is full” bullshit. I felt like a stalker as I dialed it three more times.
I had Holly’s number in my phone and knew she’d know where Whitney was, even if she might not tell me, so I dialed it. It rang twice and then connected. I waited for Holly to say “hello” or “fuck off,” but I only heard music for a few seconds before the call dropped. I was getting ready to dial her again when my phone rang, Holly’s number on the screen.
I tapped accept. “Hello?”
Nothing but the same music from before.
“Hello!” I screamed into the receiver.
Nothing but music. She must have butt dialed me by mistake when she shoved her phone back in her pocket.
I heard her voice, then another female. I turned up the volume and hit the speaker button to try to make out the conversation. It was Whitney, I knew that for certain, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.
“He’s not good enough for you,” a man said loud and clear. “He’s a liar and cheat, always will be.” I couldn’t recognize who it was.
Whitney mumbled something I couldn’t make out. What the fuck was she saying?
“I’ve seen many a good kid turn in this world,” the man said.
Whitney said something else. A mumble but it sounded like, “I love him.”
Oh God, if she loves me, there’s a chance, and these bastards are all trying to turn her against me!
I gripped my keys and rushed out my front door. I was heading to Ace’s, to confront the guy, to make Whitney listen, to get my life back.
I didn’t bother to knock, knowing Ace left his door open for his large parties. The place was crowded, and the usual naked girls and team members were floating around the house. I didn’t see Ace. I figured he was upstairs shoving cocaine up his nose while his guests ran wild unsupervised. The back room behind the kitchen had a large red sofa and a big screen TV, it was the quietest place in the entire house so I rushed through the kitchen, hoping to find Whitney there to talk some sense into her before she got on a plane and flew home. I knew she would never come back again, not after this.
Rhett sat on the couch next to Whitney and fucking Todd Morris was on her other side, his arm around her shoulders. She was smiling, even laughing it looked like.
Was he flirting with her? Was she enjoying it?
Every emotion known to man ran through me — rage, fear, sadness, even joy. Happiness at the thought of getting to see her again, to maybe to talk to her, touch her. She was just within my reach.
“What are you doing here?” Holly asked, her eyes wide with surprise as she stepped between me and Whitney.
I turned from her to look at Whitney, who hadn’t seen me yet.