Balk (Home Stand #2)

by Lacy Hart

  “Dad, I’m not going to go, this is crazy. I’ll call Randy and end this,” Wes said and pulled out his cell phone.

  “You think that’s the answer?” Wyatt said crossly. “And then what? We go through all this again next year when you feel the same way? It’s not fair to anyone, Wes, to do that. Go to Washington and start training with the team. You need to see for certain if it is what you want and how it plays out.”

  “But what about Kristin?” Wes said, looking back at his father’s truck. He could see Kristin looked back at him.

  “It’s in her hands, Wes. She has to decide what’s best for her, just like you do. She’ll be around us, and you know I’ll watch out for her, but she’s a strong woman. She can take care of herself. Let Kristin be so she can figure it out for herself. It’s the best thing for all involved right now.”

  “I’m not giving up on her, Dad,” Wes told his father. “I’M NOT GIVING UP ON YOU!!” Wes yelled back to the truck.

  “Come on, son,” Wyatt said, guiding Wes to Wes’ truck. “Good luck. You know we’re all rooting for you.”

  “Just let me know she’s alright, Dad,” Wes asked as he closed the door.

  “I will don’t worry. It’s only a month until the season starts, right?”

  “Yeah, but we start on the road. The first home game is May 17th.”

  “We’ll be there for sure,” Wyatt reassured.

  Wes shook his head as he started his truck. He pulled slowly down the driveway hill, moving to the side and onto the grass so he could drive passed his father’s truck. He stopped his truck next to Wyatt’s and rolled down his window. Kristin didn’t roll down her window but did turn to look at him.

  “You know I love you. I’ll be back, I promise,” Wes said loud enough so Kristin could hear him. She was still crying and showed no other reaction, though Wes thought for sure he saw her nod her head as he pulled away.

  ****

  The short ride to Washington was one that Wes took thousands of times over the years, but never one he made to go and play ball. The stadium in the town, Consol Energy Park, opened back in 2002 when Wes began his minor league career with the Pirates. The family went to the mall at Washington Crown Center often, but they never ventured a little further down the road to the stadium.

  Wes got off I-70 and headed towards the Ramada to get to his room before the trip over to the stadium. He pulled off the highway and found the hotel quickly, a pleasant-looking place perched high atop a hill so that visitors enjoyed a magnificent view of the area. Wes pulled his truck into an available spot near the door, grabbed his clothing bag, and went inside.

  The hotel itself was old-school, the design right out of the 50s or 60s when every place had dark wood all over. A quick glance at the bar let Wes know that is precisely how the décor was everywhere. The woman who checked him in, by the name of Cathy, was pleasant and friendly and didn’t give the slightest bit of recognition to who he was or why he might be there. She was happy to see he would be staying with them for so long, and she let Wes know about the breakfast buffet in the mornings and the hours of the restaurant and bar and wished him a good day before she moved on to the family that came in behind him so they could get accommodations.

  The room, like the rest of the hotel, was an older design, but sitting on the king-sized mattress let him know the bed provided the comfort he needed each night. Wes put his clothing and toiletries away so that it would feel a bit more like he was living there for the next month before he headed out of the room and over to the stadium.

  The stadium sat a stone’s throw away from the hotel, a short ride down I-70 past the mall. Wes pulled into the stadium parking, unsure of where he should go. He walked around the stadium to different locations, and he spotted some people out grooming the field, and a few players in uniforms already on the field looking things over and stretching.

  A tap on his shoulder jolted Wes, and he spun around to see who it was. A woman stood before him, dressed in a red polo shirt with the team logo on the left chest, what looked like a mountain lion wearing sunglasses and smiling/growling. Wes’ eyes locked onto hers, a dark brown that made it hard not to notice them.

  “Are you Wes? Wes Martin?” she asked with a smile.

  “Yes, I am,” he said sheepishly, wondering if she was just a fan.

  “Hi, Wes. I’m Sabrina Watkins. I take care of media relations and PR for the Wild Things. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Sabrina held her delicate hand out to Wes, and he took it in his. She had a much firmer grip than he thought she would before she moved her hand away.

  “I’m sorry if I startled you, but I’ve been waiting for you to get here. We just need you to come into the office first to sign your contract and all, and then we do have some media present that may want to ask some questions and such before we get you into your uniform. Sound good?”

  “Yeah, of course,” Wes answered. “I’m sorry if I’m a little late. Randy… my agent… didn’t really tell me what time to get here.”

  “No worries,” she said, smiling again. This time her eyes roamed up and down Wes’ body. “You’ll find we’re pretty laid back here, though we are very excited to have you with the team.”

  Wes followed Sabrina through one of the outer doors and down a hallway to where a few of the offices were located. Sabrina led him to the office of the General Manager, noticeable by the large plaque on the door. Sabrina knocked on the door before they entered. The man behind the desk smiled as Wes and Sabrina came into the room. He stood up to shake Wes’ hand.

  “Wes, hi, I’m Tom Killian. I’m the President and General Manager of the Wild Things. It’s great to have you here.”

  “Nice to meet you, Tom,” Wes said. The office was small, perhaps smaller than what Wes thought the president of a team would have, and Tom, with his short hair, and blue eyes, looked like he was just barely out of college. Wes suddenly felt ancient as he stood there and wondered if this was all a mistake.

  “You two have stuff to work out,” Sabrina offered. “Tom, give me a call when you are done so we can get Wes down in front of the media.”

  “Have a seat, Wes,” Tom pointed to one of the chairs opposite his desk. “Can I get you anything? Water or soda?” Tom opened the mini-fridge in the corner of his office.

  “No, thanks, Tom,” Wes answered politely.

  “Okay, then let’s get down to it.” Tom sat down at his desk and pulled out paperwork. It was Wes’ contract.

  “I already sent this over to your agent… nice guy by the way. I don’t deal with too many agents, really. Most players have their parents or just themselves when they do this.”

  When Tom said “parents,” Wes barely stifled a cringe.

  “It’s pretty standard, and Randy didn’t see any problems with it,” Tom pointed out. “Now, the salary… well, it’s a lot less than what you are used to I’m sure, but that’s standard pay for our team. I didn’t really have the budget to give you more, but there will be promotional opportunities that come up in the area. I am sure you can make some extra money if you want. A lot of the guys on the team do it.”

  Wes glanced at the line noting the salary of $725 a month. The last contract he had signed with the Pirates a few years ago paid him millions, but this wasn’t about the money.

  “I’m not really worried about the salary, Tom,” Wes stated as he flipped to the last page of the contract. “It’s not about the money for me. I just want to play.” Wes grabbed the pen and scrawled his signature on the appropriate lines.

  “Fantastic!” Tom shouted. “I’ll send a copy of this to Randy, and we are good to go. Let’s get you to Sabrina for the press stuff and then you can meet the team. Most of the guys are here already.”

  Wes and Tom walked down the hall two offices to where Sabrina was. She reclined in her chair while on the phone with someone with her feet crossed on her desk, giving both gentlemen a view of her toned legs in the short skirt she was wearing.

  “We’re
all done, Sabrina,” Tom told her. “He’s all yours. See you later, Wes. Welcome to the team!” Tom vigorously slapped Wes on the back and left the office. Wes’ gaze shifted back to Sabrina, who now perched herself right in front of him again.

  “Okay, let’s get you into your jersey before we head down,” Sabrina said, bending over at the waist to grab the jersey off the chair behind her. She spun back around to face Wes.

  “Can you take your jacket off?” she asked sweetly.

  Wes unzipped the leather jacket he always wore and placed it down on one of the other chairs in the room. He was wearing just a plain black t-shirt underneath.

  “Nice,” Sabrina muttered. “You’ve kept yourself in good shape, huh?” Sabrina eyed Wes’ biceps as she spoke.

  “I tried,” Wes replied, holding out his hands to take the maroon-colored jersey from her. Wes flipped it over to see his name on the back arched over the familiar number 12 he wore for most of his life.

  “Number 12 is correct, right?” Sabrina asked. “I tried to do my homework on you before you got here for the press release.”

  “Yes, 12 is perfect,” Wes said, pulling the jersey on and loving the familiar feeling that washed over him.

  Sabrina reached over and started buttoning the front of the jersey for Wes.

  “We have just a few media people downstairs… local newspaper and TV, local radio, and some Pittsburgh reporters to branch things out. We’ll also be broadcasting live on our social media so everyone can see you.”

  When she completed buttoning the jersey, her hands lingered on Wes’ pecs before Wes took a step back.

  “Looks great,” Sabrina added. “I think we’re all set. Follow me.”

  Wes walked behind Sabrina as they made their way down the hall and took a left that led them out to where the ball field was. It was challenging to keep his eyes off Sabrina, who was purposefully swaying her hips a bit more to draw Wes’ attention. Warmth and discomfort crept into Wes’ body, and he gladly stepped out onto the field, where things were open and airy, and the small group of reporters had gathered.

  Tom was already out on the field talking to reporters and invited Wes over to join him in front of home plate so he could introduce him. Wes scanned and saw a couple of TV cameras among the reporters, and there were a few people from Pittsburgh newspapers that he recognized from his time in the majors. Tom gave a brief introduction about how glad they were to have Wes as part of the team and then gave Wes the floor to answer questions.

  Wes got peppered with questions about why now for a comeback, why it wasn’t with a major league team, and others that put him off, but he kept up a brave front. He gave all the answers he could about how he just wanted to play hard for Washington and how grateful he was to get a chance to play a bit and maybe pass some wisdom on to younger players, and all the other ‘party line’ answers other players in his position gave over the years.

  Once all of the questions finished, Wes posed for a few more pictures with Tom and some with a bat in his hands, and then the event ended. The reporters dispersed, Tom headed back inside, and Wes was left standing there with Sabrina. Wes turned and looked towards the outfield and saw a few players out there having a catch that watched the spectacle unfold.

  Glad to have the presentation completed, Wes stood at home plate and wondered what to do next.

  “Okay, that’s it,” Sabrina told him.

  “Now what?” Wes asked.

  “I’ll get you inside, so you go to the locker room, get changed, and get started. The rest of the team will be out here to practice in a bit, so you should go down and meet John Clines, our manager, and talk things over.”

  Once again, Wes trailed behind Sabrina uncomfortably. They went through the dugout and down the tunnel to the locker room door. Sabrina made no bones about her bravado and walked right in and headed straight for the manager’s office. There were players in there in various states of dress and undress, which didn’t faze Sabrina one bit.

  “Don’t be shy boys,” she said with a laugh. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” She turned to Wes and gave him a wink.

  Sabrina rapped on the glass of the manager’s office door and let herself in. John Clines was in there going over some statistics on his computer screen.

  “John Clines, Wes Martin,” she said as she introduced the two men. John was just another person who was younger than Wes but only by a year. He was balding early, something typical of ballplayers that wore hats and helmets all the time, and Wes could see that while John once may have been in playing shape, he had a bit of a paunch now that sagged over his baseball pants.

  “Nice to meet you, John,” Wes offered as they shook hands.

  John simply nodded and then looked passed Wes to Sabrina, wrinkling his brow at her.

  “Well, that’s my cue to leave,” Sabrina said. “Wes, it was nice to meet you. If you need anything or have any questions, feel free to contact me. I’ll leave a binder with all the team information and everything else on the chair by your locker.”

  “Thanks, Sabrina,” Wes said with a smile.

  “My pleasure, Wes,” she grinned and gave a light wave before walking out.

  Wes pivoted back towards John, who was now seated at his desk again.

  “Have a seat, Wes,” John told him, pointing to the chair next to the desk.

  “I have to say, I was a little surprised when Tom told me that we were signing you. We’re only allowed a couple of veteran guys on the team and your age… well, it goes beyond the normal league rules.”

  John looked over at Wes, giving Wes a stare that let him know he thought Wes received favored treatment.

  “John, I realize the situation and how it looks. I didn’t pull any strings or anything. Heck, I didn’t even know there was a team up here, to be honest. I only want somewhere to play, and this was close to home, so we gave it a shot.”

  “I get it, Wes. You’re taking one last shot at the brass ring and hope a team spots you and picks you up. You don’t have to snow me. I know we weren’t on your radar, but we were the only team willing to take a flyer on you. I have to tell you I’m not thrilled about it. I’m used to working with kids – guys between 19 and 25 at most – who just want to play. You’re taking the spot of someone who has a dream of where you have already been. Tom has all these grand visions of filling ballparks all over because of you, and maybe that will happen, but know this – you’re no different than one of the kids. You want to play here, you have to earn it.”

  “I don’t want or expect special treatment, John,” Wes explained. “You’re the boss here. You decide who plays where and when. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I want to show I can still hit and play. The rest is up to you. Maybe some of the kids can learn a few things while I’m here. I know you guys don’t have a hitting coach. I’m happy to help if I can while I’m here.”

  “Don’t go butting your nose in unless someone asks for help. That’s all I’m saying,” John shot back. “This is my team. Go suit up, and I’ll see you out on the field.”

  “You got it, Skip,” Wes said and left the office. He looked around and saw some players still dressing, while others watched him. Wes walked to the locker with his nameplate above it. Wes hadn’t seen lockers this small in many years, but if he had a place to change, it was all good. He undressed and put the rest of his uniform on, taking care to make sure his belt was on right, his shirt tucked, and his sanitary socks were straight. Wes heard a couple of snickers from players that moved past him as they went out to the field.

  “What is he, a hundred?” one player thundered as those around him laughed.

  Wes sat back in his chair, grabbed his glove from his duffel bag, and sighed.

  It’s going to be a long month, he thought.

  15

  March rolled into April without much fanfare in Chandler, and signs of spring were popping up everywhere Kristin looked. Flowers and trees budded as she walked along the streets with Karen f
rom Karen’s home to the library. Kristin spent a few nights a week with Karen, who thankfully offered up the spare bedroom she had in her home, and then spent other days into the weekend with Izzy so that Karen could have privacy with Brian. It was odd to Kristin every time she set foot in Wes’ house, and he wasn’t there. She considered it like she was intruding or trespassing in the space, even though Izzy went out of her way to make her feel at home and comfortable.

  The two would spend the weekends together when Izzy didn’t have to be at rehearsals, and during those times it was not unusual for Kristin to be with Wyatt and Jenny for meals or just to spend time together as she had done before all the turmoil with Wes started. No one would bring up Wes’ name, not Izzy or Wyatt or Jenny unless Kristin mentioned him first, and even then, an unease hung in the air that made people hold back.