He grabbed his whistle to get everyone’s attention. “We’re going to clean up this field,” he yelled, beginning his team pep talk. I listened to the familiar rhythm of his speech, really hearing him as he inspired us, getting us riled up and ready to fight for victory out on the field.
We’d all been at the stadium for hours, but as he cheered, we all looked fresh and ready to go. I pulled on my uniform, ready to prove that the Beasts hadn’t made a mistake by hiring me.
And they hadn’t.
Another no-hitter. My pitching was on point, and I felt more focused than ever before as I stood on that mound. I finally had a purpose again, a reason to want to succeed.
It was never just about me. It was always about Whitney and our future together. That was very clear to me now.
“Ready to celebrate, wild man?” Ace asked and patted me on the back.
“Not tonight,” I said and walked towards Marty.
I slung my arm around his shoulders and told him how sorry I was for acting like an ass the other night. He was a nice guy, so he accepted my apology, but I felt I needed to make it up to him.
“I called Whitney,” I confessed. “And she actually answered.”
The light in his eyes told me he truly did care. I told him about our conversation and how she was thinking about coming back.
“I’m very happy for you,” he said with a genuine smile. “Are you going to the club?”
I shook my head. His grin widened, and I could see he was proud of me. I was too!
“You too good to hang out with us now?” Ace yelled as I walked across the parking lot. I’d avoided him in the locker room, and he was obviously not used to rejection. “Malone!” he yelled when I kept going.
I stopped, turned, and watched him walk towards me swiftly. His arms were swinging from side to side, and he was obviously pissed off.
“I just want to go home, what’s wrong with that?”
“You’re just acting like a little bitch,” he snarled, then spit next to my foot.
I ignored it. “Just trying to get myself back on track. If that makes me a little bitch, then I guess I am.”
His nose wrinkled up, and he let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, you gotta run home to mommy Caroline?” he asked.
“No, you can have her,” I told him. “I did talk to Whitney though.” I wanted to punch myself in the face for admitting it.
His eyes darkened and squinted when I mentioned her name. “You still living that pipe dream, hot shot?”
“It’s not a pipe dream. She’s considering coming back, so don’t mess it up for me.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snapped.
“Nothing,” I said on a long breath. “I just seem to piss her off when you’re around, so just leave me be.”
“You telling me to back off, kid?” he asked, looking more pissed off than I’d ever seen him.
“Yeah, I guess that’s exactly what I’m doing,” I said, standing my ground.
His chin bumped against mine, and his eyes were locked on mine with an angry stare. He was big bad Ace Newman, and I guess I was supposed to be scared. I wasn’t.
I’d seen this man fall down drunk, piss his pants when he couldn’t get his dick out quick enough, and snort drugs up his nose. He wasn’t scary, but he was trouble, and that I didn’t need. Now or ever again.
“Watch yourself, kid,” he warned.
I gave him a small smile. “I plan to.”
When I turned to walk to my car, I half expected him to come after me, to swing at me, and possibly knock me to the ground, but he didn’t.
All he did was yell out another empty threat. “I can take you down anytime I want, hot shot. You hear me? Any fucking time I want!”
I climbed into my car and pulled out, leaving a pile of smoke around badass Ace Newman. What a joke!
I drove to my ridiculously lavish bachelor pad and pulled into my ridiculously large garage and sat in my ridiculous sports car just thinking. None of this mattered, the car, the house, even the game. Not without Whitney. I felt foolish as I got out of the shiny black Porsche and walked into my house. Whitney would find this over the top as well, that much I knew for certain.
I had become Ace Newman, or at least a version of him. Somewhere, somehow, I’d lost myself well before I lost Whitney. My phone rang as I stood in my entry way and stared at the mostly empty palace I’d been living in. I reached into my pocket, hoping to see Whitney’s face on my screen, but instead saw Marty’s.
“Hey, Marty, what’s up?”
“I heard Ace threatening you today.” His voice sounded almost panicked.
“Yeah, no big deal, just a lot of barking, no bite,” I assured him.
“You don’t know that, Calvin, be careful,” he warned. “I’m serious.”
I get it, he was serious. He was back on his paranoia kick where everyone in baseball worked in a conspiracy circle to fuck over players. “I’m fine Marty, relax,” I insisted.
“I-I don’t trust him, Calvin,” he stammered. “You shouldn’t either.”
I knew there was some truth to what Marty was saying, I couldn’t trust Ace, but surely not to the extent he was claiming. The man had no power over my life, my relationship or my career, not if I didn’t let him. I had taken all his control away. I no longer idolized him, wanted to shadow him, or even hang out with him. His days of reigning over Calvin Malone were over.
“I gotcha, Marty, and I’ll watch my back,” I said. “I’ve decided to just stay away from him.”
Here was a long pause, then, “I’m not sure that’s the best plan.”
Now I was really confused, and honestly, a little exhausted listening to this. If he was so horrible, and he could destroy me with the blink of an eye or some magic voodoo shit, then why would it be better to hang around the man? I was done listening.
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” he concluded before releasing me from the conversation from hell.
The house was so large, so empty that it made my heart ache just to stand in it. I walked upstairs and stared at the bed where I’d had my first threesome. It has to go! I wanted something new, something untainted for when Whitney arrived. I didn’t want her lying in the same spot where I’d been such a dick. I picked a pair of pink panties up from the floor, then noticed three used condoms in the trash can by my bed. Shit. In my party mode, I’d left a trail of my sins all over the place.
I called a cleaning service, then my favorite furniture store, both with orders to be fulfilled by morning. Ralph from the furniture store was actually quite gracious, offering to pick up the old bed and deliver the new one within an hour. He was probably charging me triple what he would any other Joe off the street, but that was fine, money well spent.
I still couldn’t sleep, even after the new bed arrived and I put on the brand new sheets and duvet he sent with it. I wanted something to knock me out, a hard drink or possibly a ball bat to the head, but I’d promised Whitney I would stay on the straight and narrow. No alcohol for me.