“For being a pussy,” Ace replied with another smirk. “It’s just one drink, rookie. You’ll be home in time to please your mommy.”
Pulling on my boxer-briefs and a t-shirt, I considered the request, knowing these men would be watching my back and needing them to want to. A good arm helped, but I needed them to pick up anything that hit a bat. Plus, it was one drink. On my first day of professional practice, I could use it. Celebrate being here.
“One drink,” I said sternly, pulling on jeans and sticking my feet into shoes. “And don’t do that shit again.”
Ace laughed as if my orders meant nothing to him. I finished dressing and walked out of the locker room, partly hoping they left without me, and I could just go home.
“You’re riding with me, hot shot,” Ace insisted. He was leaning up against a black Porsche that looked like it had just been waxed. It was beautiful and expensive.
Wow, I was really in the big leagues now.
Marty left with Frank Lewis, the centerfielder from the same Atlanta team where he’d been poached. “So, who is this owner anyway?” I asked Ace as I climbed into the passenger seat of his car.
“He’s a real heavy hitter, lots of money, need for power, and a damn good player,” Ace responded.
“Player?” I asked, thinking about all the players I’d ever heard of. “I’ve never heard of Rhett Hamilton. Which team?”
Ace laughed and pushed his foot on the gas as we tore out of the parking lot. A puff of smoke filled the rearview mirror, and the screeching likely scared any animal within a thirty-mile radius.
“I didn’t say he played baseball, kid,” he said sarcastically. “He’s a player, the kind with a different woman in his bed every night.”
That explains why he chose Ace. They shared a love for that game.
My ass cheeks tightened with every turn, my fists clenched as I held my breath. Ace was a wild man, driving like he owned the road. It was scary. Death defying scary. When we pulled up to the bar, I knew my face had to be pale as a ghost.
“Clean her up while ya got her,” Ace said and tossed the keys to a young valet. The kid scampered to get behind the wheel, thanking Ace repeatedly as we walked towards the entrance.
I checked my phone. No messages from Whitney yet.
“What, are ya worried your momma’s gonna call?” Ace snorted.
I shoved the phone back into my front pocket and smiled, ignoring his sarcasm, which I was quickly learning was just Ace being Ace. “My girl will be here sometime tonight.”
He shrugged and shook his head. “There’re plenty of girls here already.”
A large man wearing a black suit and red vest reached to open the door as Ace and I approached the entrance to the bar. It was a swanky place, like one I’d only seen in the movies. My jeans and tight-fitting t-shirt made me feel out of place, especially next to Ace who wore slacks and a button down that probably cost more than my dad’s monthly salary. I hadn’t been planning on going anywhere that afternoon, at least not until Whitney arrived, and hadn’t brought anything nicer.
Whitney.
My balls tightened just thinking about her. All I wanted was to take her in my arms and make love to her, an “I made it” fuck fest to rival any others. My testosterone levels were high, and I could tell in the last few days I was becoming irritable. Jerking off had become a bore — all my moves were old news. I just needed my girl, that’s all, nothing more.
“Hey, Ace!” A tall man who had to have been of Italian descent welcomed us as we walked through the large doors. He wore a button down shirt, similar to Ace’s but more colorful. His thick black hair was slicked back from his face, and he sported a mustache that twirled on each end like Gomez from the Addam’s Family. “We have your table ready.”
I was impressed at how everyone seemed to fawn over Ace. It was like he was a local legend, a hero, or at the very least, a celebrity. A beautiful blonde wearing a short black skirt and low-cut top took Ace’s hand, leading him to a table up a small set of steps. I followed behind, feeling slightly rejected as all attention focused on the shortstop. I watched as his hand slid around her waist and over her ass. He gave her a squeeze and a none too gentle pat as he slid into the circular booth.
“Grab us a bottle, darlin’,” he said to the woman, giving her a long wink. She didn’t ask what kind of bottle. She just giggled and rushed off to follow her orders. “You’ll get used to this, kid.”
Before I could even get situated in the booth, the blonde had returned with a bottle of Jack Daniels on ice with two glasses, then surprised me by sliding into the booth next to Ace. “Why haven’t you called me?” she whined. Her voice was squeaky, and her pouting lips were over exaggerated as she leaned in towards Ace.
“Oh, darlin’, you know spring training started. I’ve been a busy man,” Ace replied, his hand sliding over her leg. I couldn’t help but watch his movements; they were so smooth, so precise. She giggled again as his hand slid even higher up her skirt, then disappeared. Her face went soft and her eyes closed, her tongue sliding slowly across her top lip as she let out a long moan.
What the fuck?
I looked around, but no one was paying attention as Ace’s hand started to move and the girl’s moans grew louder. Ace looked at me and winked.
Holy shit. Was this seriously happening?
The waitress’ head fell back, and she gripped his arm, biting her lower lip to stifle a cry. Ace’s hand returned to view and her eyes slowly opened. She smiled and leaned over to give his cheek a quick kiss. She seemed to be satisfied. At least for now.
“I’ll bring you some appetizers,” she said cheerfully and scooted out of the booth.
Ace lifted his fingers to his nose and closed his eyes as he smiled. “Oh, that’s sweet,” he said, drawing out the words. “You wanna know what success smells like, kid?” He pushed his hand towards my face.
“No, thanks,” I replied, pulling away quickly.
He laughed and poured us both a drink.
“I see you’re getting the royal treatment,” Marty said as he and Frank slid into the booth with us.
“Only the best for the best,” Ace boasted, motioning for the young blonde to return to the table. “We’re gonna need a few more glasses. sweetie.”
“You have an incredible arm,” Marty said as he gave my back a few hard thumps. “Not bad at the plate either.”
“Thanks,” I replied and tossed back half of my drink. Most pitchers couldn’t bat for shit, but I could hold my own, which I knew made me an even bigger asset.
The blonde showed back up with two more glasses and a basket of chicken wings. She smiled at Ace as he ran his hand up her thigh.
“Aw, man, don’t shit where you eat,” Frank said, finally speaking.
Ace grinned and turned to watch the young blonde’s ass as she walked away. He picked up the bottle, poured Marty and Frank a drink before topping off mine and his. He held the glass up high.
“Here’s to the Beast’s first kickass season.”
We clinked glasses, and I tossed my drink back. All of it this time.
CHAPTER TWO
Calvin