"I don't know, Gayle. Jilly's such a busy guy. I don't want to be a bother," I respond, trying to make a decent counterargument even though I just rolled out of bed and she's probably been up for hours plotting her strategy.
"Nonsense! I know what that boy's doing from now until October. I'm sure I can set something up that works around his schedule. You just let me take care of it, and I'll get in touch with you as soon as the boys get back from their road trip. Sound good?" She knows she's scored a major victory, and it sucks feeling so overmatched.
"Yep," I answer, pounding my fist repeatedly into my pillow, hoping she can't hear the muffled thuds.
"Super. I knew we'd be able to work something out. Who can resist that big ol' teddy bear, right?" Gayle asks, and I can practically hear her grinning through the phone.
At that, my heart bends a little. Maybe she does care about Jilly. Up until I won the contest, I never knew that the Queen of Diamonds was Gayle Rader, but being a frequent follower of the blog, I know that she's protective of the guys on the team. She never writes anything bad about them. Sure, she offers constructive criticism whenever they're not playing well, but she never butts into their personal lives unless she can be of some assistance, particularly in diffusing any difficult situations. And I admire her for that, but it doesn't mean I want her meddling in my life.
But what if she just means well? What if she thinks I'm someone who'd be good for Jilly?
"Yep. He's pretty irresistible," I answer with more warmth—and honesty—than before.
"Oh, Hailey. Before I let you go, there's something else I wanted to discuss with you."
I take a deep breath. "What's that?"
"I'm looking at your Facebook page…"
Wow. I decide to be more truthful, and now she's lying? It's the first time she's tripped up.
"I don't have a Facebook page, Gayle."
"Let me clarify—your college's Facebook page, and I see that you graduated with a bachelor's in creative writing." She sounds just casual enough that I can't tell if she's sending me a veiled message or not. "If you're ever looking for work that'll keep you in the city, let me know. I'm always hiring freelancers."
"That's extremely generous of you, Gayle, but I tend to write fiction and—"
She interrupts me before I can finish. "And you think I wouldn't be interested in short stories or serials or anything like that, right?"
I feel like a criminal, about to be exposed by the hovering beam of an NYPD searchlight. I'm skating a very fine line here. She's so close to finding me out, something I think her unconscious mind is zeroing in on even though her rapid-fire brain isn't aware of it yet.
"That's funny, Gayle. I didn't think you'd have an audience for that kind of stuff." I break into a cold sweat, hoping that I'm just being paranoid.
The fact that I went to the same high school as Jilly is a matter of public record. It's not that hard to dig up. But she can't possibly know that I'm R.D. Bukater. I did everything I could to cover my tracks. She can't be that good.
"Just something for you to keep in mind, Hailey. Fan fiction, sports romances—they're all the rage now. And it's a direction I'd like to take the site. You know me. I've always given it to our readers straight. They're female fans who know their stuff, and I respect that. But there's a fantasy element that I'd like to explore too. Women like baseball because they've developed a love of the game, sure…but I think they also tune in night after night to watch twenty-five hot, young guys strut around in skintight pants, don't you?"
I feel like I'm hyperventilating. It's like she's reading my mind.
"Hailey…you still there?"
"Yeah, I'm still here," I squeak, knowing that, if there were ever a time I needed to pull it together, it's now.
"Okay, good. I'll work on setting up something special for the two of you. You just sit back and relax. Do what you came to the city to do, and I'll take care of the rest."
Her words sound so comforting, like she's my fairy godmother ready to make all my wishes come true. Too bad she doesn't know that it's an impossible task. I threw away any chance I ever had at being Jilly's girlfriend by writing these books. If he finds out, he's never going to forgive me. There's no way that even Gayle can make this right.
I need to end the call now. "Okay, great. I look forward to hearing from you."
"Talk to you soon, Hailey." She hangs up, and I lie back on the bed, completely drained.
I woke up so full of optimism—how quickly it's been snatched away. Who am I kidding? It's never going to work out between Jilly and me. But what bothers me the most is that I'm the one who sabotaged our future, not Gayle. I'm the ticking time bomb that's ready to explode in Jilly's face.
So I do the only thing I can do to make these negative feelings go away.
I write.
Chapter Five
Jilly
"Jilly, you sure know how to wine and dine a woman," Drake Schultz, the Kings' third baseman, cracks, waving his phone in the air. "The Staten Island ferry? Even the Queen of Diamonds can't gloss that shit up."
"Quit running your mouth, Schultz," I mutter, bumping him slightly before striding into the shower room. "Or are you looking for me to give you another busted lip?"
"And…the girl's from Jersey," Drake continues, ignoring me, his sneer full of contempt. He steps out of his jockstrap and kicks it aside as the rest of the team files in one after the other. "So I guess she's pretty low class to begin with."
"That's enough!" I take the phone out of Drake's hand and slam it down on the bench.
Some of the guys start turning on the showerheads, clearly not wanting to get involved.
But I don't hesitate, shoving Drake up against the wall.
"What is it, Jilly, huh?" Drake taunts. "Can't keep your hands off me?"
I grab Drake by the shoulders, sending him sprawling to the ground. But he's too quick for me, reaching for my ankle and bringing me down on top of him. We continue to wrestle each other on the floor, knocking over a laundry bin, cursing and swearing the whole time. Finally, I grab him by the hair and yank him to his feet.
"What the fuck, Jilly?" Drake bellows as his eyes start to water because of how hard I'm pulling his hair.
"What the hell's going on in here?" Chase Whitfield, the Kings' franchise player of the decade turned first base coach, hustles into the steam-filled room, his eyes flying to my iron grip on Drake. "Bruce, let him go," Chase walks up behind me, laying a hand on my back. His tone hardens when I don't let up. "C'mon, big guy. He's not worth getting suspended over, and we need you, man."
I fling Drake aside and tighten the knot in the towel I have wrapped around my waist. Chase nods to me and I slowly back away.
"You shouldn't be doing things like that," Chase levels at me. "That's all we need is for one of you to get hurt clowning around back here like a bunch of kids."
Scott Harper, our first baseman, saunters by in the buff, not even bothering to cover up. "I heard the whole thing, Whit. Jilly didn't start it. Drake was raggin' on him about that Queen of Diamonds story, putting down Jersey girls. And let me tell ya—he couldn't be more wrong. I happen to know for a fact that Jersey girls give really good—"
"Don't go there, man. Just don't…" Chase shakes his head, giving Scott a weary glance.
"C'mon, Whit. You know I'm right." Scott chuckles before stepping past Drake and grabbing a towel to dry himself off.
"What is it with you, Harper?" Drake spits. "Showing off your shriveled-up balls again?"
"Schultz, you just wish you were hung like this." Scott turns around in a complete circle, giving everyone a full view of his manhood. "Nobody on this team even comes close to this level of perfection."
"Jesus, when did this turn into a dick-measuring contest?" Chase groans.
"Hey, it's always good to know where you rank in the grand scheme of things," Scott counters, laughing his head off. "My only real competition's Jilly, but then I wasn't born at the top of a friggin' bea
nstalk like he was."
"Scotty, get the fuck outta here. And put some clothes on, would ya?" Chase implores, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand.
"So what if you took her on the Staten Island ferry, Jilly?" Scott calls out over his shoulder, heading into the locker area. "She's gonna be riding something a whole lot bigger in the near future. Yee haw!"
"That is if he's able to string two words together and actually talk to her again," Drake chortles.
I take a step forward, ready to rip Drake's hair out by the roots this time, but Chase throws out an arm, holding me back.
"Easy, dude," Chase warns, allowing Drake to walk by us.
"Oh, and, Jilly? When you finally lose your virginity, let me know whose name you call out—Jersey girl's or Sasha's." Drake steps into a stall, turning on the spigot, as Chase reaches forward to restrain me from drowning his sorry ass.
"C'mon. Don't listen to that shit he's dredgin' up. You've already put it behind you, so let it go," Chase reminds me. "Don't let that asswipe go pushing your buttons, because you're better than that. But I need to know…" Chase pauses, and I flinch. "That girl looks a hell of a lot like Sasha. Are you still…?"
"No, all right?" I reply testily.
"Are you sure?" Chase asks again, afraid that I'm still heartsick over Brooks's pregnant fiancée.
"Fuck yeah, I'm sure." I glower down at him.
"Prove it," Chase challenges.
I don't want to feel the need to explain myself to anyone, but I'm not itching for any trouble with my teammates either. Drake's a different story. Everybody hates that cocksucker, but Chase is the foundation of this team. If he doesn't trust me, no one will.
"Because I went to high school with the winner. We knew each other long before that stupid dream date." There. I said it. Now let him go psychoanalyze my ass.
"That explains a hell of a lot," Chase mutters, stroking his jaw. "Dude, you gotta invite this girl to a game."
"I don't think so," I mumble, frowning at him.
"Sasha's been worried sick about you, man," Chase admits, saying the one thing that's sure to get my attention. "She thought she broke your heart, and she's been feeling guilty ever since. Just let her see that she has nothing to worry about, all right?"
I exhale loudly through my nose, knowing how weird it's going to be seeing Hailey and Sasha sitting side by side, but if it helps convince Sasha that I've moved on, I guess it's worth it.
"Ah, hell. You're not gonna get into this whole 'my blonde is prettier than your blonde' thing with Brooks, are you?" Scott jokes, sticking his head back in the room. "Because, I gotta tell ya, brunettes are where it's at. Right, Whit?"
Chase lifts an eyebrow in response.
"You'd better say yes or Grey'll smoke your ass," Scott snorts, and I smirk along with him.
Grey's gorgeous, but I think we both know she's more of a woman than either of us can handle. Chase definitely has his hands full with her.
"Get outta here, numb nuts, before Drake ends his twenty-minute beauty routine and starts stirring up more shit. I've about had my fill of him for one night," Chase mutters before standing under the next available spout.
"I'm happy that you're finally getting some, man," Scott enthuses, holding out his fist for me to bump, but I just scowl and move past him. "What'd I say?" he asks, standing there all confused.
"Don't jinx it," I mutter, turning on the hot water so I don't have to talk to him anymore.
My relationship with Hailey is far from a sure thing. Anything can happen. Anything can go wrong. Anything can drive us apart…again. I don't have that sense of stability that Brooks has with Sasha or Chase has with Grey, and I have to admit that I'm jealous of what they have.
I just hope that, after hitting a few speed bumps, I'm finally on my way toward having that kind of relationship with Hailey.
Chapter Six
Hailey
I'm at a Kings game to see Jilly play, but I feel like I'm on a job interview.
Perhaps it's because I'm between two women who keep peppering me with questions. Sitting with the wives and girlfriends is hard work. I'm glad that Jilly usually doesn't pitch until the ninth inning because there's no way I'm able to concentrate on the game. Sasha Roberts and Grey Whitfield are making sure of that.
Being in Sasha Roberts's company is a little intimidating. She's the first female player in the history of Major League Baseball, which is no small feat. Everyone knows who she is. The tough, ballsy chick who beat the boys at their own game and did a heck of job doing it. But it's eerie seeing her up close being that we share such an uncanny resemblance to each other.
"I can't believe 'The Heart of the Kings' is able to hide under a pink baseball cap at Kings Stadium," I tease Sasha, wondering how she's seamlessly able to blend into the crowd when she's one of the most recognizable players of all time.
"Ha!" Grey lets out a belly laugh. "You're funny, twin number one. I like you."
"Hey, shouldn't I be twin number one? You've known me longer." Sasha gives Grey an exaggerated pout, sticking out her bottom lip.
"But Jilly's the determiner of the twin factor, and Chase told me he went to high school with Hailey, so that trumps that," Grey replies, sticking her tongue out at Sasha. "You can't be number one at everything, missy."
Sasha goes on, pretending to ignore Grey. "I loved reading about your date on the Queen of Diamonds."
"Yeah. It was so Jilly," I reply, feeling a tad awkward discussing it with her. All last year, I was tormented by reading the gossip rags that claimed he was infatuated with her. Now, it's like I've done a complete three-sixty, and it's making my head spin.
"Exactly!" Sasha enthuses. "That's how I knew you were someone special."
"Why's that?" I prompt, looking into the baby blues that mirror my own.
"Because Jilly's such a head case?" Grey deadpans.
"Stop it, Grey," Sasha shushes her.
"No, I don't mean it like it's a bad thing. He just doesn't express himself that much, but when he does, watch out. Now that's what I call one passionate guy." Grey nods in approval, patting my arm.
"He does live inside his head a lot. That's true," I admit. "But then, so do I."
"I bet your sex life is out-of-this-world fantastic," Grey gushes, causing me to blush. "What? I'm just sayin' still waters run deep."
"I'm sorry," Sasha apologizes for her friend. "She gets carried away sometimes. It happens to the best of us."
Sasha tenses at the crack of the bat, shoving her hand into the glove resting on her stomach, reaching for the foul ball that's headed our way. She curses when it lands a few rows back and she's unable to snag it, spilling the contents of her handbag in the process. I shudder when a dog-eared R.D. Bukater paperback lands at my feet. Sasha bends down to retrieve it and misses my reaction, her curls tumbling out of the back of her cap.
I'm in trouble now. Deep-shit kind of trouble.
"Hailey, have you read this yet?" Sasha asks, tossing it onto my lap.
"Oh, yeah," I reply casually, quickly handing the book back to Sasha like I can't get it out of my hands fast enough.
They know about the New York Warriors books. They freaking know.
"Was that your favorite?" Grey jumps in.
"Oh, umm…" I stall, unsure of what to say. I've fantasized about both of their men in print—not a topic of conversation I want to discuss. "I kinda like them all."
"Girl, you are so bad. You're supposed to say it hasn't been released yet." Sasha winks at me out of the corner of her eye. "Don't you know? Jilly's story's next!"
"Are you…sure?" I stammer, wishing I could remember how to breathe.
"Hailey, you gotta get with the program, girl," Grey interjects with a smile. "Their identities aren't that hard to figure out. Really, that's the most fun part about reading them, don't you think?"
Sasha nods in agreement. "It's like she knows things only an insider would know."
"I often think Gayle's the one writing
them," Grey ponders out loud, stroking her chin.
"Like I have the time!"
The two of them shriek when Gayle enters our row and takes a seat. I sit up straight, knowing that Sasha and Grey are amateurs when it comes to grilling me about my interest in the New York Warriors books. Now that Gayle's here, the girl talk is about to get serious.
"And this must be Hailey Halpert," Gayle beams at me, extending her hand.
"You got that right, boss," Grey confirms before I have a chance to answer. "The girl who's been blowing up our site!"
"Nice to finally meet you, Gayle," I respond, giving her hand a quick squeeze, as she sizes me up with her eyes.
"Likewise, Hailey." She smiles at me warmly. "They always show a glimpse of Sasha on TV whenever she's in the house. The fans at home love it. My husband, Andy, is up in the broadcast booth. You know he's the voice of the Kings and all that jazz. Well, he saw the two of you sitting next to each other on the monitor and he texted me to let me know you were here. So I thought it'd be the perfect opportunity to talk to you about your follow-up date with Jilly."
"Oooo, a follow-up date…" Grey nudges my arm. "Gayle's post has been generating so much buzz on the Queen of Diamonds. I'm not surprised there's gonna be a round two."
"Gayle, I—" I start, but Sasha comes to my rescue.
"Gayle, Jilly hates being in the limelight. You know that," Sasha says, stating the obvious. "And I haven't known Hailey all that long, but she seems pretty quiet too. You gotta dial it down a notch, mama. For pity's sake. Let them reconnect at their own pace, and quit butting in."
"Only America's Sweetheart could verbally shoot down the Queen of Diamonds and get away with it," Grey laughs.
"I get where you're coming from, Sasha," Gayle concedes, tucking her hair behind her ear. "We all have a soft spot in our hearts for Jilly and we only want what's best for him, but guys like that need a gentle push in the right direction."
"What are you saying? You don't think he'd ask me out again on his own?" I question Gayle, failing to hide my outrage.
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