Grand Slam

by Heidi McLaughlin

  Saylor steps away from the microphone and motions for me to walk toward the security guard who is stationed outside. He’s about to take us back into the courthouse when someone yells out Saylor’s name.

  “Hey, Paul, I haven’t forgotten,” she tells the reporter from ESPN.

  “When can I have a sit-down?” he asks. Saylor pulls out her phone and thumbs through her calendar while I stand next to her as if I’m invisible. I want to jump up and down, waving my arms like a spastic monkey, to get his attention, but he’s focused on my wife.

  “We have some personal stuff to take care of, so give me a couple weeks. I’ll want this edited and broadcast right before he leaves for spring training.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll wait for your call.”

  I grab ahold of her arm and pull her to me. “What if I don’t go?”

  “What if you do?” she counters. “What if next week you’re at the park with Lucy and children ask for your autograph?”

  I look at her questioningly, wondering why she would ask that. “I won’t sign them, not when I’m with her.”

  “Bad example; you know what I mean. Give this time to blow over.”

  “And what if this doesn’t?”

  She shrugs. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But for now, you’re a Renegade. I’ve already spoken to Stone and told him that any offers made by you or Jeffrey are off the table. If he wants to get rid of you, it’s on him.”

  “You did?” I question.

  “I’m your manager. Of course I did.”

  Travis Kidd appeared in court today, only to have all charges dropped! Every Renegade fan couldn’t be happier for him.

  Unbeknownst to the state, the defense had a witness that cast doubt on the story the state had been told by the victim in the case, and with no rape kit available, the case against our left fielder was weak.

  The surprise witness was none other than Saylor Blackwell-Kidd, who is not only his publicist but also his wife and newly hired agent. We really hope Travis is paying her well!

  In today’s press conference, Blackwell-Kidd indicated that her client will be seeking damages from the state, and according to sources at the courthouse, those papers were filed today along with a motion to reveal the identity of the victim so that charges may be brought against her for falsifying testimony.

  We’re happy to report that this will be the last blog post on this matter.

  Case closed! Now bring on spring training!

  The BoRe Blogger

  Thirty-Eight

  Saylor

  In the few weeks since Travis and I have been married, our lives have been crazy. I’ve tried to stay busy by signing new clients to my roster, one of whom is Cooper Bailey. It’s not a bad start, even if it’s incredibly stressful. Having to sell myself has been a challenge but one that I’m welcoming with open arms.

  And it is still my focus to get Travis to reconsider leaving Boston, although I’ve told him that Lucy and I support any decision he makes. My mother has also given him her blessing if we were to move to Florida. It seems she and my mother-in-law have hit it off, and my mom has been invited to stay on the Kidds’ yacht anytime she wants.

  Travis and I still haven’t moved in together or moved out of my apartment. It makes sense that we move to his place, but until my custody trial is over, I’m not leaving. The last thing I want is for Elijah to say I’ve uprooted Lucy or find some other convoluted way to use a new home against me. Travis doesn’t seem to mind, though, even if we are a bit cramped. Other than to grab his clothes and his daily living essentials, he hasn’t left my side, which, for the most part, is fabulous because I love spending time with him, but it makes it hard to work. If he retires from baseball, he’ll need another job or I’ll have to maintain an office away from him in order to get my work done.

  “Your view is amazing,” I tell Ryan Stone. I’m looking out over Lowery Field from his office. The crystal-clear day is a sure sign that spring is coming early, and with the sun shining down on the field, it truly makes this view unbelievable.

  “Definitely a perk of the job.”

  “I can see that. Was this office always like this?” I turn away from the window and take a seat at the small conference table in his office.

  “No; funny enough I joked about it when they were in the process of luring me away from the Yankees. There were these standard windows that didn’t let enough light in. The office felt stuffy and drab. I wanted something different. I wanted my office to feel warm and inviting. When I walked in on my first day, the wall and windows were gone and nothing but this glass was there. I think I spent my first week staring out at the field.”

  “Do you find it hard to focus when they’re practicing?”

  “Always,” he tells me. “I love this team, the city, and the fans. The early day games, like on Patriot’s Day, make it hard to work, and I often find myself cutting out so I can watch the game.”

  “Well, I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

  “I do. Jeffrey was kind enough to let us know that he is no longer representing Travis. He assumed you would be taking over but wasn’t very forthcoming with information.”

  “I imagined not. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, but nonetheless, I represent not only Travis but Cooper as well.”

  Ryan jots a note down on his pad of paper and smiles at me when he’s done. “This is probably a good thing for Cooper. He needs someone in his corner who cares about him and not the bottom line.”

  “That’s what he said, too,” I say, laughing. “Anyway, I’m here because of Travis and his situation. As you are aware, all charges have been dropped, and the state has issued a public apology.”

  “I was very happy to hear that. Travis has maintained his innocence from day one, especially with me. He was very forthcoming.”

  “But he is still pondering retirement.”

  Ryan sighs and drops his pen so he can rub his hand over his face. “That I was hoping would change.”

  “Honestly, me too. And I’m trying. He only had the support of a few players, and others publicly bashed him in the media as well as in person. Travis feels like he’s let everyone down, and his biggest fear is being disliked by his teammates and booed by the fans.”

  “Understandable. Does he have any public appearances scheduled?”

  “Yes; as a matter of fact, he’ll be at the Children’s Hospital tomorrow, and he’s organized a Valentine’s Day toy drive that will take place outside Faneuil Hall Marketplace, where he’ll sign autographs and pose for pictures with each toy donation.”

  “No kissing booth?”

  I can’t help but smile because not only was that a brilliant idea, but also knowing that he will never kiss another woman again makes my heart skip a beat. “Unfortunately that is something I can’t approve.” Ryan laughs right along with me. “However, I could set one up for Branch. The publicity is very good.”

  “Please do. I think the fans would love it.”

  “A joint effort on Valentine’s Day,” I tell him as I write the idea down in my notes. “Back to Travis. How long does he have to decide?”

  “If he doesn’t report to spring training, he’ll be fined daily until we can come to a settlement on the remaining term of his contract. If he announces his retirement beforehand, you know he won’t be allowed to play for another team until his contract with the Renegades has expired.”

  I make sure to write everything down as he said it, not that I won’t remember the details from our conversation, though. I know deep in my heart that Travis isn’t ready to give up on baseball yet, and I doubt the city of Boston is ready to give up on him either.

  “Thank you, Ryan, for meeting with me today.” I stand and shake his hand.

  “I have a feeling you’re going to be a good thing for Travis. I look forward to doing a lot of business with you and hope to see you in Florida when I’m there at the end of February.”

  “Me too.”
>
  No sooner do I step out of Ryan’s office than my phone starts to ring with Travis’s self-chosen ringtone of Aloe Blacc’s “The Man.” Each time I hear it, I can’t keep the smile off my face. “Your timing is perfect. I just walked out of Ryan’s office.”

  “You need to get over to Lucy’s school. I came to pick her up, and Elijah is here, demanding that she be released to him.”

  “What?” I start to walk a little faster, but it’s not an easy thing to do when you’re wearing heeled boots.

  “Irvin is on his way, and the police are here,” Travis tells me.

  “Where’s Lucy?”

  “Inside the classroom with an aide. Other parents are lingering, and I swear to God, Saylor, they’re taking sides. People are making comments about me, calling me a rapist. I just want to get my daughter so I can take her ice-skating like I fucking promised her this morning. I want out of this goddamn city, Saylor.”

  “I know, Travis.” I can hear the desperation in his voice and fear that this is the tipping point. It might be too late to ask for a trade after the meeting I had with Ryan, but it might be my only shot at making him happy. He loves the game, and I can’t see him giving it up so easily. “These parents…they must be friends with the DA or something. Everyone knows you’ve been cleared.”

  “Except they’re going to believe what they want.”

  Negative public perception is hard to overcome. It’s why publicists work so hard to keep their clients in the limelight doing good deeds. All it takes is one person to destroy someone’s career, and in this case, it seems to be Rachel Ward. I caught Travis looking her up one night. As soon as I saw her picture on his phone, I recognized her immediately and asked him to let the courts decide her punishment. Thing is, though, it takes them seconds to arrest someone on suspicion, but it seems like it takes months to arrest the person who made false claims. That is, if they arrest them at all.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I tell Travis, wishing like hell that I wasn’t on the other side of town.

  “I’m not letting him take her,” he says right before he ends our call.

  “I know you won’t,” I mumble into my phone as I hurry across the Brookline overpass so I can hail a cab. One stops immediately, and I tell him I’ll double his fare if he would be so kind as to break the speed limit for me.

  I keep my phone in my hand, waiting for Travis to call back or text me an update. And even though I know he won’t let anything happen to Lucy, I’m not sure he won’t do anything to Elijah.

  “Elijah…” I mutter his name. What the fuck is he thinking, showing up at her school like this? I haven’t heard from him since he threatened me, aside from being served, and our court date is still a few days away. So what’s he doing?

  The size of the melee of parents and onlookers gathered in front of Lucy’s school is ridiculous, and they’re spilling out into the streets, preventing the cab from getting any closer. I toss the driver a wad of money before getting out.

  My adrenaline spikes as I try to force my way through the crowd. Even as I tell them that I need to get through to save my daughter, very few people move aside. I’m finding it hard to grasp why there are so many people lingering around what is a domestic incident. This many people is never a good thing, especially when half are supporting Travis while the other half are slinging disparaging comments about him.

  When I finally break through, I’m stopped by a police officer, and only after I show him my identification does he let me through.

  “What are you doing?” I yell at Elijah as I come through the wrought iron gate of the school.

  “I’m here to pick up Lucy,” he says, as if this is an everyday occurrence. The man behind him looks at me smugly.

  I shake my head, trying to comprehend everything. “On what authority, Elijah? You’re not even listed on her school forms. Her teacher, the principal…no one knows you, and neither does she. You have no right being here.”

  “I’m her father,” he roars, and points to the building. “Not that rapist you married, which, let’s get real, Saylor—the only reason you married him is because of his money.”

  I shouldn’t be shocked, but I am and can’t prevent my mouth from dropping open. Of course, the other parents lurking around start murmuring, and I hear the words slump-buster and gold digger.

  “First of all, Travis is not a rapist, and if you make that accusation again, my client will file a lawsuit so fast your head will spin.” I look to my left to find Irvin standing next to me. “Second, no one is disputing that you’re the sperm donor to Lucy Blackwell, but I’d use the term father very loosely.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” Elijah yells out as Irvin approaches him.

  “Watch your language, sir. There are children around,” the principal says. I stifle a laugh knowing that Elijah is about to blow a gasket.

  “I represent Lucy Blackwell in her bid to terminate your parental rights.”

  “Excuse me?” Elijah says. Irvin hands an envelope to Elijah, who doesn’t even reach for it, but the man behind him does. “She’s seven. She has no rights.”

  “She’s five, almost six. And you would know that if you were truly a father to her,” Irvin points out. “And she has every right.” Irvin takes my arm and guides me into the school and down the hall toward Lucy’s classroom.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, stopping before we reach her classroom.

  “It’s simple. A few days ago, I received a call from Lucy asking if she could divorce Elijah.”

  “A divorce?” I stand there, shaking my head. “Where did she hear something like this?”

  Irvin smiles. “She’s resourceful. She told me that she had watched a movie at her grandmother’s about a little girl who divorces her parents, and she wanted to do that. When I asked her to explain, she said that Elijah is trying to take her away, and she doesn’t want him to.”

  “Oh…how’d she get your number?”

  “You know, I didn’t ask. I figured you had it written down or she went through one of your phones.”

  I nod, pretending to understand, and make a mental note to lock our phones. There are things on there that no one needs to see.

  “So now what?” I ask as we start walking toward the classroom. When we get to the doorway and look in, Travis is sitting in one of the beanbag chairs with Lucy in his arms, and they’re reading to each other.

  “Now we wait. It’s tough because she is five and a judge could say that you sway her. However, her claims will be taken seriously.”

  Both Lucy and Travis look up when they hear us talking. Their smiles instantly lighten the gloom I was feeling.

  “Look at him,” Irvin says. “How can anyone say he’s not good for her?”

  I shake my head, wondering the same thing. It’s hard to think that I almost kept him from her.

  Thirty-Nine

  Travis

  My housekeeper scurries to help Lucy pick up the remaining toys from the living room while the camera crew finishes installing their lighting system. Today, I will finally sit down with Paul Boyd and talk about what happened in December. I wish I could say this has been a long time coming, but the truth is, we’re only a month and a half removed from the day I was cleared of all charges.

  And still to this day, I’m holding fast to the idea that I’m going to retire. Each night, I lie in bed with Saylor asleep on my chest, wondering if I’m making the right decision. I don’t know if there will ever be an answer, but I pray that I’m not making a mistake.

  The public opinion poll on me is still divided. Some feel that I need to be removed from the Renegades, that the organization didn’t take action when they needed to, while some can’t wait for the season to start and are expecting me to take my spot in left field. Saylor, and those who are around me, want me to stay and play, and honestly, part of me does, too. But I’m not sure my ego can take the brutality that the fans can dish out. And I don’t want Lucy to hear that either. The last thing she
needs to hear are people bad-mouthing me in the stands. That is something she won’t understand.

  After this interview with Boyd, I only have days to decide. I’ll either be in Florida on vacation or stretching in the outfield with my teammates.

  Since I’ve been cleared, only Bryce Mackenzie has apologized for his actions. The others have stayed away, and truthfully, I’m okay with that. They broke the unspoken code that we share among ourselves as a team: You always have each other’s backs. I would’ve had theirs, regardless. It makes it hard to go back to a team that can’t support you.

  My biggest proponent is standing in the kitchen, going over the questions that Paul plans to ask while Lucy plays in her recently painted pink bedroom. When Saylor and I showed her my house and where her room would be, she asked if it could be pink. Apparently, she’s wanted this color for a while, but due to Saylor renting her apartment, they were unable to change the wall color. So, of course, I said yes and promptly took her to the paint store, where she picked out the most hideous shade I had ever seen. After a long debate, she finally relented and let me choose the color, as long as it was pink. I have to say that it didn’t turn out half bad.

  “Wanna play dolls?” she asks after she spots me leaning against her doorjamb. She holds up one of her dolls in anticipation that I’ll join her.

  “I can’t. I have to do an interview in a few minutes.”

  “Oh.” Her face falls as she fiddles with the doll in her hands.

  “Don’t be like that. This is work, remember?” I walk in and take a seat next to her. This is where Saylor often finds me when she comes home from work, sitting on Lucy’s floor either dressed like a princess or doing whatever Lucy wishes. I spend as much time as I can with her so she knows how important she is to me. If I do decide to go back to baseball, our time will be limited, and I don’t want her to think that I don’t care about her.