He chuckled. His eyes glazed over with emotion as they moved past me and onto the wall behind me. My mother stood, rubbed his arm softly with her delicate hand, staring at him with love and admiration.
“We’ll get through this,” she whispered. Her dark green eyes fell on me. “We won’t let anyone know what’s happening right now. It’s only temporary anyway. No need to have the media or nosy acquaintances judging us.”
Her stature was strong, her demeanor filled with a sudden strength. Janice Delaney, an aristocrat to her social circle, was not going to be displayed in such a poor light. No way, and neither would her husband or daughter. It was agreed without actually saying a word. I’d keep my mouth shut and pretend that all was well. Daddy doesn’t have a gambling problem that cost us our way of life, no sir, just downsizing.
“Thanks, girls,” he said with a strange burst of confidence. He turned, winked at me, slapped my mother playfully on the ass and disappeared down the hall.
“How long has this been going on?” I asked my mom once we were alone.
She hesitated, sighing, and dropped her eyes to the floor.
I knew she didn’t want to talk about it, but I deserved to know the truth. This was my life too. “Bobby’s always liked to gamble,” she said, finally looking me in the eye.
I sat on my bed, carefully placing the award beside me. “Always?”
“Yes. It started out with just a few bets here and there. Once he retired, he grew restless, I guess, needing something to keep him feeling alive,” she said sadly. “He’s a good man.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what? How was telling you, or anyone for that matter, going to help?”
“I could’ve talked to him,” I argued.
A soft sigh fell from her lips. She moved toward me, sitting on the bed next to me. Her arm offered warmth as it wrapped around my shoulders. “If I thought you could’ve stopped him, sure, I would’ve told you.”
After being told of his addiction, I took notice of his behaviors. They were sporadic, sometimes manic. His downs were rough, but his ups were even more turbulent. Watching him spiral out of control while smiling, convincing himself that everything was going to be alright was heart wrenching.
I sat in my room alone for a while, looking out the large window that overlooked our dozen acres of land, taking in the last of the familiar scent of my bedroom, and saying goodbye to the life I once knew. I was scared, terrified really. I had no idea what I was going to do on my own.
“I have to get to work.” I sat on the window bench in the front room. My dad barked orders to the movers that had arrived, while my mother acted as if everything was normal.
“You might want to think about a real job,” Dad scolded me with his all-knowing look.
Ya think?
I loved my internship at the radio station. It kept me busy, allowed me a social life, or at least the facade of one. My social media management career, if you could call an unpaid job that, was exciting, fast-paced, and I was learning how not only to make the radio station look good online, but myself as well.
Most of my life was spent surrounded by baseball players, on the field and off. Friends were few and far between, and none of them ever really close. I liked being on the road with my dad, watching him on the field, getting the royal treatment for being Bobby “Spaceman” Delaney’s daughter.
College wasn’t much different. Even though I was surrounded by kids my own age, I didn’t seem to have a lot in common with them. I worked all the time, studying, creating the school newsletter, and of course, keeping up the game, even though Dad retired during my freshman year. Five years, that’s all it took for him to lose everything he’d worked an entire life for.
“About your condo,” my dad said quickly as the movers left with another large box.
“I know,” I muttered.
“You should be able to make the association fees, and the basic bills, right?” His eyes were full of concern, and for the first time, I caught a glimpse of reality in them.
“Yes.” I clutched the ring in my pocket, rolling it around in my fingers that were shoved deep in the denim. I’ll be fine.
“I’m really sorry, Kitty-Kat. This is just a rough patch. I’ll turn it all around soon, and then we can go shopping for another pink Mercedes. Hell, maybe even a Lamborghini this time.”
His lips curled into a slick smile, and my mother’s eyes widened in pleasure at his words. I wasn’t sure which one of them was more delusional.
Did they not see the movers outside? Could they not comprehend that all of their life-long belongings had been sold to cover gambling debts and that they were reduced to a small truck of boxes, a couple pieces of unimpressive furniture, and a two-bedroom condo that was smaller than their current bedroom?
“Sounds good, Dad,” I murmured, not willing to push him while he was already down, or up, I couldn’t tell anymore.
My phone lit up, playing the “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” ringtone I’d been meaning to change. I pulled it from my purse, stared at the screen, trying to figure out who’d be calling me from New York.
“You gonna answer that?” my dad called to me. I knew the song irritated him. He didn’t have the warm and fuzzy feelings about baseball like he used to. Since he retired from the Braves, I didn’t even think he’d watched a full game.
“Hello, this is Katrina Delaney,” I answered as professionally as possible.
Often times, the radio station gave out my number to clients. Even though I’d probably be leaving there soon, I wanted to leave on a good note.
“This is Rhett Hamilton with the New York Beasts.” His voice had the same deep tone I remembered from years ago.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hamilton. How can I help you?” I responded, confused, excited, and a little intimidated. I knew of him, not only from the papers over the last couple seasons but also from years ago, when he and my dad were friends. The radio station was mainly a rock genre, rarely covering any sports events, unless to hand out free tickets as a contest. I couldn’t imagine what connection he’d have with them, but I was eager to find out.
My dad stared in my direction at the mention of the name. I turned away, keeping my focus on the phone call at hand and away from my curious father’s eyes.
“I have an exciting opportunity I’d like to talk to you about. When will you be free to meet with me?”
“I have a couple hours this afternoon. Are you staying in downtown Atlanta?” I asked.
A chuckle sounded over the phone. He was amused by my question, but I had no idea why. “No, I’m in New York. I need you here.”
My heart raced, and my palms began to sweat around the rubber case of my phone. “Can I ask what this is about?”
“Katrina, I’ve heard great things about you, and what you can do, so I’d like to see it for myself. You’ve heard of my team I’m sure, the Beasts?” He paused and left me to answer.