by Jean Joachim
Sure enough, Nat punched one to right field and beat out the throw. The ‘Hawks had a man on. Jake licked his lips.
“Getting’ ready?” Matt asked him.
Jake nodded.
“Relax. You’ve got a few minutes before you bring him home,” Skip said.
Jake watched Bobby draw a walk. Skip struck out and returned to the dugout, cursing. As he passed his buddy, he whispered, “It’s up to you, Jake.”
The slugger nodded. Energy flowed freely as Jake Lawrence took his stance. He stared at the pitcher, who was wiping his face on his sleeve.
The bastard’s nervous. Serves ’im right. He should be. Confidence held Jake upright as he shouldered the bat and narrowed his eyes at Jimenez. Not knowing what to expect because the guy was new, Jake decided to jump on the first pitch.
And what a great decision! He connected with a fastball right down the middle, chest high, exactly in Jake’s zone. The crack of the bat was felt all the way to his toes. The ball soared at top speed, heading straight for the third tier. Jake took off. He loved the home run around the bases routine. Nat and Bobby waited for him. The three players tipped their caps to the fans before descending the stairs into the dugout.
That was all the action. The Sharks got one home run, but Jake’s three-run baby won the game. He got mobbed in the locker room.
“Celibacy keeps you sharp, Jake,” Skip said.
“Shut the fuck up, Skip. Oh, no. Wait a minute. You’d know all about that, right?” Jake tossed a towel at his friend.
“Damn right he does,” Nat put in.
“What would you know about getting laid regularly?” Bobby asked.
“Now, Dan and I are a different story,” Matt snickered.
Four wet towels were rifled at Matt Jackson’s head.
Jake shook his head. He couldn’t wait to get home. Managing to get out before his teammates pranked each other, Jake hit the gas pedal in his fancy car and took off for home. He preferred to text his lady when he was alone. He tossed his keys in the bowl in the foyer and headed for the fridge. He filled a large glass with orange juice and sat down to text Kate.
We won game 3! I had a 3 run homer.
He had to wait until eleven to get a reply.
Fantastic! Congratulations! Blowing a kiss.
Wish you were blowing something else. Ha ha.
Very funny. Wish I was, too.
We killed in Portland and Denver. Next stop Kansas City.
Awesome! But I’m not surprised.
How many games until the Series?
Two more. Wish you were here to be my good luck charm.
Me, too. Sending you positive thoughts, babe.
Love you.
Love you, too, Jake.
They had game four the next day. The Nighthawks were pumped. Jake couldn’t sit still. He was salivating to get the Miami Sharks on the field and beat the shit out of them. This playoff was going to be theirs, and they were going to go on to the series, no matter what.
The men got to the field early. They warmed up, they trash talked the Sharks, they fed each other positive vibes. But sometimes, things don’t go as planned.
Chapter Sixteen
From somewhere, the Sharks put it all together. Maybe coming from behind was their thing? They beat the Nighthawks, three to two. Jake couldn’t hit shit and there were two costly errors in the field, one infield and one outfield. Matt Jackson, coolest head on the team, dropped a ball rifled at him to tag a runner out at home. He bobbled, then dropped it. Charged with an error, the catcher lost it, swearing at himself and almost got ejected from the game.
The Nighthawks were still ahead, three games to one. Jake vowed that they’d get them in this next game. He texted Kate.
We fucked up. Lost. Now we have to win tomorrow or go to Miami.
I’m so sorry!
We can’t lose tomorrow.
That’s a shame. Call me on the plane.
Yeah. I hope you’re still doing great. Miss you.
I’m fine. Denver was okay. Not as good as Seattle.
Good reviews?
Yeah, but not five star. KC will be good. Sleep well, darling.
I will. Love you.
Love you, too.
Kick butt in Kansas City, honey.
Night, Jake.
They had to win the last game in New York, but they didn’t. The score was three games for the Nighthawks and two for the Sharks. Jake went home to pack. He was furious, enraged. How could his wonderful team collapse like that? How could he have screwed up and struck out, not once, not twice, but three times?
He wanted to hit himself, throw himself against the wall. But that wouldn’t help. All the while Kate was knocking audiences out, bringing them to their feet. What would a star like her want with a loser like him? They had to win. Had to defeat fucking Miami. He paced, popped open a beer and sat back, watching the game, which he had recorded.
He looked for the problems. Studied the pitcher to see where he missed the signals. He couldn’t concentrate. It’s all her fault. If Kate were here, I wouldn’t have messed up like I did.
Shame filled him. His loss had nothing to do with her. Of course, if she’d been there, he would have been more confident, but he’d been blazing baseballs into the stands long before she came on the scene. Sure he missed her, but his bad game was simply his own damn fault.
As he watched, he saw where his teammates messed up, too. Skip had an error at short. Their pitcher kept walking the Sharks. Seemed like he couldn’t hit the box no matter what type of pitch he threw. It all added up to a lousy performance and win for the Sharks.
He needed to talk to Kate. Not a text conversation, but a real one. Once they got in the air, he was free to use his cell, but would she be performing? It was Sunday, matinee day! Perfect! No evening performance, so he could call her. The thought of her voice put a smile on his face. He’d have to find a quiet corner, away from his nosy teammates. He shook his head, a private conversation in the air would be impossible. But he’d try.
The Nighthawks needed to win in Miami. If they did, then they’d go on to the World Series. If only he could touch Kate. Hold her hand, kiss her once before the game. He’d gain strength and get his confidence back. But she was winging her way to Kansas City, so that would never happen. He sighed. Love was hard. He had never known how hard.
Life would be easier if Kate had been traveling with him. No. matter how much he missed her and wanted her with him, he had to admire her talent and gumption.
Kate had picked herself up and kept going, trying, believing in herself. Now she was on the road to stardom, the big payoff for years of deprivation, striving, and heartbreaking disappointment. He smiled. If she could do that, who the hell was he to give up, to throw in the towel because he had had a bad game or two? What a pissy little crybaby he was!
The comparison strengthened his resolve. He needed to make himself and Kate proud. He needed to get back in the saddle and start blazing ’em out of the park again. There was no time for self-pity or wound-licking. He had to man-up now.
If the Sharks won twice in Miami, then they’d go on to the World Series and the Nighthawks would be a bunch of losers left sucking their own dicks. He pulled out his travel bag and threw in some clean underwear.
****
Kate had breakfast at a diner on the way to the theater. She wanted to be alone to think about Jake and reread his texts. After their conversation the night before, as he was flying to Florida, her heart ached. Although he’d appeared happy-go-lucky, confident, and calm when she left—last night he expressed self-doubt, apprehension, and nerves about today’s game.
This Jake was a stranger to her. His insecurity rocked her as much as it surprised her. She’d leaned on him, he’d been the strong one. But on the phone, Jake had needed her reassurance. She recalled part of their conversation.
“I know you’ll do okay today,” she’d said.
“Okay’s not enough. I have to get it back. I nee
d to hit at least one out of the park today. And no more errors. Shit, I don’t know what’s happened to us.”
“Every team has bad days. Days when everything goes wrong.”
“That doesn’t happen when you do a show, does it?”
She had laughed. “Are you kidding? Wardrobe malfunctions of all kinds. Losing your voice in the middle of a song. Geez, you’d be amazed.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
“One time one of the spotlights blew up about two minutes before curtain time. Just last week, someone spilled something on the stage and my leading man slipped and fell flat on his ass in the middle of a dance routine!”
Jake had laughed, relief in his voice.
“You laugh. Crap like that gets written up in reviews. Critics then call the show an ‘amateur’ production. You get branded. Ticket sales fall off to nothing by the end of your run.”
“People are so unforgiving?”
“Of course. Haven’t you seen guys get booed when they strike out? Or pitchers, when they walk someone? Audiences can be demanding bitches.”
“Of course, they expect the best from athletes.”
“Same is true of performers.”
“I’d never thought of that. A lot of stress for you,” he’d replied.
“I try not to think about it. I assume every performance is going to go off without a hitch. And ninety-nine percent of them do. It’s those few that don’t, that scare the crap out of me.”
“So you’re saying the same is true of the Nighthawks?”
“I am. Look at how well you guys have done all season.”
“That’s why we’re in the playoffs.”
“Of course. But you can’t go on forever, performing at that level, and never having an off day, can you?”
“I suppose not.” His voice got lower.
Kate wracked her brain to find the right thing to lift his spirits but came up empty. She’d never thought he’d need encouragement. Embarrassed with herself for being so self-involved and thinking him super-human, she faltered in her efforts to buck him up.
“If I was there, I’d give you a big hug.” She frowned at her lame reply.
“If you were here, you’d give me a helluva lot more than that!”
She laughed. “Yeah. That, too. I love you, Jake.”
“Me, too. Break a leg, honey.”
When she’d hung up the phone, she wasn’t convinced she’d cheered him up. Perhaps there wasn’t anything anyone could do in this situation. At least telling herself that relieved a bit of her worry. She’d chewed on her lip. Being far apart had turned out to be harder than they’d thought. But she wasn’t going to give up. He was the best thing to happen in her life. Kate McKenzie didn’t walk away from a challenge. She simply hunkered down and figured it out. This time would be no exception.
She finished her coffee and picked up her cell. There was something she had to do before the matinée at two. When she finished, warmth spread through her. She headed for the theater wearing an impish grin.
****
Shark Stadium, Miami
Kate chewed a nail as the taxi jerked to a halt. She shoved the cash in her hand through the opening and threw open the door. Grabbing a small bag, she dashed up to the entrance.
“You can’t go in there, lady,” the man in the box office said. “Game’s about to start. We’re sold out, too.”
“I have to see Jake Lawrence before the game starts.” She struggled to keep desperation out of her voice.
The man shook his head slowly. “Don’t see how you’re gonna do that. They’re singing the national anthem right now.”
“You’ve gotta let me in there.”
The security guard sauntered over, eyeing Kate.
“What seems to be the problem, lady?”
“Jake Lawrence is my boyfriend. This is a long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” the guard replied.
“There isn’t time. Look, he needs to see me, if only for a few minutes.”
“How do I know you’re his girl? Anyone could say that.”
She rummaged around in her purse, yanking things out, searching for her cell. She scrolled through her pictures until she found ones of her with Jake—on the road trip, in Freddie’s, one with her wearing his jersey and nothing else. A furious heat filled her face as she flashed that one in front of both men.
They cleared their throats. The security guard looked down.
“Guess you are his girl,” said the ticket seller.
“How can I get in there? I only need to see him for a minute.”
“Only way now is through the locker room and the tunnel to the dugout,” replied the guard. “All the gates are locked.”
“Which way?” She asked.
“You can’t go in there.”
“I’ll take her,” the guard said.
“We’ve got to hurry.” She grabbed the man’s arm. “Let’s go.”
He led the way to the locker room. Pushing open the door, the guard stuck his head in and called out. “Anyone here?” Silence greeted them. He nodded to her and held the door. Together they made their way to another door.
When he opened that, she heard the faint noise of a crowd cheering. The anthem must be over. They’ll be here in a moment.
“Team’s coming,” he said, rushing forward down a wide tunnel toward the field. Kate followed. “Hurry up!”
Kate got there as the men dribbled in. They showed surprise when they saw her. Jake was the last one in. He stopped before descending the few steps and rubbed his eyes.
“Kate?”
“Yep.” She grinned.
Cal Crawley. “No women in the dugout, miss.”
Jake took the stairs two at a time. He grabbed her elbow and escorted her to the connecting alleyway.
“What are you doing here?” He stared as if she were a mirage.
She launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck. Tears burst forth.
“I had to come. You needed me.”
“Kate,” he said, quietly, nuzzling her hair. He drew her up hard against him.
“I love you so much,” she murmured, squeezing her eyes shut to stop the water flow.
“Me, too. But what about the show?” He stepped back.
“The theater is dark on Monday night. I’m flying back tomorrow morning.”
“You’ll stay the night here? With me?”
She nodded.
He grinned from ear-to-ear. “This is my lucky day, baby.”
“It is. Now go out there and kill those Sharks,” she said.
“You know I will.”
Cal Crawley stuck his head in. “Let’s go, Jake. Nat’s on second, Skip’s on first, and Bobby’s at the plate.”
He kissed her deep, with passion, before breaking away. “Gotta go.” Jake blew her another one as he loped down the hall and disappeared into the dugout.
She stepped back and nodded. The polite clearing of a throat reminded her that the security guard was waiting for her.
He reached in the pocket of his pants. “Here. They gave me this in New York. I’ve been carrying it with me to give away. But I forgot. Front row, honey.”
Kate took the ticket. “Thank you so much!” Together, they hurried out to the stands.
Kate handed the man fifty dollars, but he refused the cash.
“Consider it my contribution to true love,” he said.
“Thank you. You’re an angel.”
He took her to her seat. She got there just in time to see Bobby Hernandez walk and Jake come to bat. He walked to the box with his old swagger. Her heart leaped into her throat as she watched him take his stance. He swung a couple of times, rotated his wrists, shifted his weight back and forth between his feet, and then stopped. He turned his head toward the pitcher.
She swore to herself that the old Jake was back. He took two pitches, both called balls. Then it came. A fastball, sailing high and outside. He swung hard and connected. She heard
the crack and watched the baseball soar up, up and into the second tier seats. A grand slam home run! The fans rose to their feet. The cheering was deafening. She danced a jig with the man in the seat next to hers.
Then she stopped to watch. As he rounded the bases, approaching his teammates who waited by home plate, the crowd simmered down. Kate was the only one left standing. Jake was mobbed by his buddies, but he stopped to doff his cap to the fans. Then he turned and blew a kiss straight at Kate, who blew one back. A new cheer reverberated around the stadium, causing her to blush.
The Nighthawks went on to grind the Sharks into the ground, winning eight to three. Kate let the others exit ahead of her as she lingered to meet Jake by the locker room door. Men dribbled out with wet hair and huge grins. The Nighthawks were going to the World Series. Joy beamed from the faces of the players as they headed back to the hotel for a celebration.
Finally Jake came. He picked her up and twirled her around.
****
As his fingers gripped her waist, belief seeped into his brain. Kate was really here. She’d flown all the way from Kansas City to be there for this game, and to spend the night with him. Doubts, fears, and worries melted away. Coupled with their amazing win over the Sharks, his unexpected grand slam, and now, Kate—could life get any better?
When he set her down, he whispered, “I’m the luckiest guy on Earth.”
She beamed up at him.
“You really flew all the way from Kansas City just for one day?”
“And one night,” she snickered.
“Oh, hell, yeah.”
A group of his teammates waved. “Coming, Jake?” Skip called.
“We’ve got a celebration at the hotel. I had no idea you’d be here.”
She waved her hand. “No problem. Can I come?”