by Alice Ward
“I have an interview with Calvin today,” I told Whitney, explaining quickly what Rhett had asked for.
“That’s a great idea. But I don’t see many of the guys opening up much,” she warned.
“Well, the media is eating them alive. We need to do something. The Calvin and Todd squabble has gone viral,” I slipped in carefully just to see if she would react.
React she did, blushing immediately. “It’s so embarrassing. I mean, why would Calvin have an issue with Todd? That was ages ago. A fling.”
Relief instantly fell over me to hear her refer to her time with Todd as nothing serious. “Well, they have me setting up a charity event to pull them together.”
“Calvin is a very charitable man. I’d love for the fans to get a chance to see that side,” Whitney said with a smile.
Calvin and Todd weren’t paired up during practice. Instead, Todd was with Blake Osborne, my dad’s old teammate. I knew I’d have to work with the coach to get them back together. It wouldn’t be easy.
Calvin walked over to my seat after practice, sitting down beside me and swigging from his water bottle like he was dying of thirst. “Gettin’ hot out there?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. Feels great,” he said, smiling and taking another long drink.
I started out the interview talking about his offseason, what he did, where he and Whitney vacationed, then worked my way into the deeper issues at hand. “Do you really despise Todd being on your team?”
He looked surprised that I'd asked him that question, or maybe that I’d worded it so bluntly.
“I don’t despise him being on my team. I’d just prefer he was on someone else’s team,” he replied with a smirk.
“Because of his past with Whitney?”
“Partly,” he said and turned up the water bottle again.
“What else is there?” I asked carefully.
He scratched his head as if he was trying to come up with another answer. His eyes stared into mine, his lips curving into a smile. “Okay, you got me. That’s the only reason. He’s actually an amazing catcher. I’ve already learned quite a bit from him. You tell him that, and I’ll deny it.”
“Would you be up to working with him again?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’ve actually hated it out on the mound without him. His eyes are amazing, and his reflexes off the charts. He really does know how to read a batter. That’s gold when you’re out there alone on the mound.”
Wow, so Calvin respects Todd.
My confidence grew quickly as the coach agreed to pair the two hotheads back up together for the next game. This was feeling like it would be much easier than I originally thought. Todd had promised to be on his best behavior, and after talking to Calvin, I had no worries that he’d only bring his best to the field, and away from it.
The team played strong together with Calvin on the mound and Todd behind the home plate. The other team couldn’t get a man past first with Todd’s amazing eye and Calvin’s quick reflexes. By the end, relief flooded my soul. Everything had gone great, and with a score of 11-0, I had no doubt the media would all be good, at least for the night.
I grabbed my notes, shoved them in my bag, and started to work my way out of the stadium before the crowd rushed the exits. The players were all headed toward the locker rooms, already shaking hands with the other team, and enjoying a celebratory moment on the field.
Todd waved at me, his arm stretched high above his head. His grin was so wide, his eyes so bright. I knew he was proud of himself. I was proud of him too. Ace ran past him, jabbing him in the ribs, from what I saw, on purpose. Todd pushed back, stopped, and yelled something toward Newman. Within seconds, the two men were in each other’s faces, screaming, pushing. I gasped when I saw Todd’s fist cocked and loaded, ready to land on Ace’s face right as Calvin gripped it, stopping him from the horrid mistake. He was working to pull them apart when cameras flashed like sudden lightning. Fuck! Are you kidding me right now? Everything was perfect.
This wasn’t going to be easy at all. In fact, herding cats into a shower would be easier.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Todd
What the fuck was wrong with Ace Newman anyway? I hadn’t done anything to him. Katrina wasn’t cold, but she wasn’t the same after that incident on the field. It had been a week, and she’d barely said three words to me. It wasn’t my fault, was it?
She sat in the locker room, her legs crossed, showing off her toned thighs as Coach announced we’d be forfeiting our next practice for some good publicity. “Katrina will fill you in. I expect you all to listen and do exactly what she says,” he warned, motioning for her to get up and take over the room.
Her eyes were focused on the group, not one player in particular, certainly not me. “We have some very special kids coming in for a training session tomorrow,” she said.
Some of the guys grumbled. I remained silent. I would do whatever it took to get back into her good graces, and her bed. After the night we spent together, intertwined in her bed, sleeping alone had become rough.
“The special needs children from Daytona had a field trip scheduled to come watch you practice tomorrow. I thought it would be a great opportunity for you to show your appreciation to your fans, and to show you are not truly beasts by spending the day with these kids, letting them play out on the field with you.”
“Well, I think that’s great,” Blake spoke up first.
I’d heard he had an autistic son so this was obviously something close to his heart.
“I expect you all to behave. Show these kids a good time,” Coach said.
“The kids will arrive at nine in the morning tomorrow. Don’t think because you have a day to sleep in that you can run amuck. Everyone is expected to be in their rooms by ten o’clock tonight. No exceptions.” Katrina spoke with an authority that made my dick twitch.
The guys all started to grumble, especially Luke and Kane. “We’re on curfew?” Luke argued.
“Yes, and you will remain on curfew for the remainder of your time here,” Coach replied sternly.
My eyes lingered on Katrina, trying desperately to get her to see me. She gathered her belongings, didn’t turn around as she called out, “See you all in the morning,” and left.
I’d heard everything Lana said to her that morning I hid in her closet. Since we hadn’t spoken since then, I had no idea if Lana had been back on her ass after the last incident. It did make the papers. Front and center, as always. The picture the media decided to run with, of course, was the one where it looked like Calvin and I were in an altercation. That was the furthest thing from the truth. He’d actually saved my ass by stopping that blow headed for Newman’s face.
Ten o’clock curfew wasn’t a big deal for me but some of the other guys were still fuming. “We’re not children,” Kane stated.
“Some of us are,” Calvin laughed.
I finished my beer, tipped the lounge bartender a twenty, and patted Kane on the back. “You should feel lucky we’re allowed out unsupervised at all after some of the past stunts from this team.”
“Watch it, Morris,” Ace warned.
“Fuck off, Newman. You’re the reason we’re all on lock down,” I snapped.
“No. It’s my fault. My petty shit with you.” Calvin directed his comment to me.
Wow.
“We’re past that. We’ve been past that. I just want to know what this one has a beef about.” I nodded toward Ace.
He stood against the wall, his hands pushed deep in his pockets, his back slouched like he didn’t give a shit about nothing. “I don’t have a beef.”
“Good. Then don’t fuckin’ push me again,” I warned.
His eyes narrowed, his lips pursed tightly together, and his hands slid from his pockets. I watched them reach up, slide his fingers through his thick locks before crossing his arms over his chest. “I just don’t like anyone who brings tension to my team.”
“Your team?” I laughed.
“Stop
. I was so excited to be on this team. To play with the greats, but you all act like children…” Kane spouted and then sucked down the last of his beer. “I’m going to my room. Like a child. Thanks to you, the fuckin’ greats,” he added before walking away.
I slid back onto my bar stool. “Can I buy you guys a beer?” I asked.
“Hell yeah. But make mine a Mountain Dew,” Newman said quickly with a laugh, taking the seat next to mine.
“What about the curfew?” Calvin asked.
Ace shot him a look. “Don’t be a pussy.”
Calvin seemed to blush a little at Ace’s prodding. I wondered what it was like when those two were partying together. I couldn’t picture it, no matter how hard I tried. Calvin was just so straight-laced, so small town naïve. He just didn’t fit with Ace as a partner in crime.
We didn’t talk about the past, about our grievances, or about what Kane had said before he stormed off. I think it was mutually agreed upon that he was right, and it was high time we started acting like the greats we truly were.
Luke poked me in the ribs hard as I took the last swig of our second beer past curfew. I turned, ready to snap at him when I realized that his poke was a warning.
“It’s after eleven o’clock,” Katrina said, staring directly at me when she spoke. Oh, now she wants to give me some attention?
“We were just bonding. That’s what you wanted, right?” I said, a little more sarcastically than intended.
Her eyes darkened. “If you’d done that earlier, I wouldn’t be here ordering you to bed like a bunch of twelve-year-olds.” Her hand jammed onto her hip like my fourth-grade teacher before sending me to the principal’s office.
“You’re right. We’re going,” I promised.
The guys all quickly slapped money on the bar and scampered from the tiny room. We were alone. After all this time, Katrina and I were finally alone.
“We worked out a lot,” I offered as an excuse for my betrayal of her rules.
“Go to bed, Todd,” she murmured.
“Whose bed?” I asked, trying to be flirty but sounding drunk.
She smiled. Her hand fell from her hip, and her body shifted to relax her weight from one side. “Your bed.”
I barely remembered going to my room, but as my alarm blasted, I was certainly there… alone. I showered, dressed, and met the guys in the lobby to eat breakfast before catching the shuttle.
Katrina was sitting on a large white sofa in the main lobby, scribbling something in her notepad. “You hungry?” I asked, stopping before passing her by.
Her eyes looked tired, exhausted really. I hated that I was to blame for her stress. “No,” she replied.
“You gotta eat.”
She shook her head. “You go ahead. I have to finish the plans for the day.”
Shot down. Again.
As I walked away, I wondered if she was looking at me, checking me out. I quickly turned back, looking over my shoulder. Her eyes dropped hastily toward the paper in front of her once I caught them on me. Yeah, she was still interested.
I needed to work double time to make all this right. No more trouble from me. From any of us if I could help it. It was obvious that when Katrina’s job was hard, she avoided me like the plague, but when it was easy, she flocked to me like a tourist to Disney World.
The kids were already on the field when we arrived. Katrina was rounding them up, assigning them players to work, that Lana bitch right by her side. The sight of her made me cringe. Her bright red hair, stiff stature, but mostly, the way she hovered over Kat.
The guys were all amazing, letting the kids take turns pitching, swinging the bat, and even running by their side as they made their way around the bases.
Katrina was beautiful, more so than usual as she seemed to be in her element with the kids on the field. She snapped pictures, talked to the press, and interacted like a true professional. Even Rhett seemed to take notice. In my mind, a little too much so.
Lana glared at them as they posed for press photos together with the kids. My thoughts ran wild, thinking about everything she’d said that day. Was Rhett trying to fuck Katrina?
The way he touched her made me wonder if there was merit to Lana’s accusations. His hand rested softly on her arm, slowly caressing the sleeve of her blouse as they spoke. No. Kat is a good girl. There’s no way anything is going on between them. Is there?
“Kyle would like a picture with his favorite player,” Katrina said cheerfully as she approached me for the first time that day.
The boy standing beside her was tall, wore thick glasses, and looked much older than the other kids in the group. His smile was crooked, and his eyes unfocused, but he spoke without hesitation. “Todd Morris. That’s my favorite player. That’s you. I want to be a catcher,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Well, today’s your lucky day. We need another catcher,” I said, wrapping my arm around him for a quick picture.
“Now, this stuff’s heavy. Can you handle it?” I asked, pulling off my gear.
He laughed. His eyes widened, and the smile he gave me sent a squeeze directly to my heart.
Katrina’s eyes were soft and warm as she helped me dress Kyle in my gear. He squatted behind home plate, with me behind him while Blake tossed a few pitches his way.
After we got him unloaded from the gear, he never once complained about its weight. “Thank you. I’m a catcher now. I’m a Beast,” he said proudly.
“Yes, you are, Kyle.” I patted him on the back.
Lana showed up, tapping her wristwatch to warn Katrina that she’d gone over time. “We have to get the bus back to the school,” she said.
What could have been a moment between Kat and me quickly turned back to work. My phone buzzed in my pocket, vibrating against my leg. I turned away from Kat and Lana while I checked to see who was calling me during practice.
Teresa’s name flashed across the screen. I swiped to answer and held the phone to my ear, fearing the worst as I said hello to my sister.
“I’m sorry to bother you. Are you free for a moment?”
She didn’t sound too anxious, so my heart slowed its racing. “Yes. Is everything okay?” I asked, still wondering why she was calling.
“It’s Mom,” she said, sounding exhausted. “She’s fallen again.”
Shit.
We’d put Mom in an independent living facility to ensure her needs were taken care of and to also ease the burden from both of us. It had been a difficult decision and one of us kids visited her nearly every day. When I was out of town, the burden fell on Teresa’s shoulders alone. Marcus, our younger brother, couldn’t take care of himself, let alone anyone else. So it was me and Teresa doing the best we could.
“Did she break anything?” I asked.
“No. Luckily, nothing is broken. Her hip is bruised pretty badly though. The independent living coordinator has insisted that she be moved to an Alzheimer’s unit.” I cringed at her words.
“No way.”
“Todd, it may be for the best at this point,” she said softly.
“You know what those places are like,” I snapped and immediately regretted my harsh tone.
“Yes. Safe.”
I kicked the dirt under my feet as I paced back and forth in a small square. “When?” I asked, not thinking I wanted to hear the answer.
“Right away. They have her in a rehabilitation unit now. Since nothing is broken, they don’t see the point in keeping her. The nursing home doesn’t want the liability of putting her back into her room. She’s fallen four times in the last six months. I can see their point.” She sighed as she spoke.
This wasn’t a decision I wanted to make, not now. Not ever. This was my mother. I didn’t want to see her fade away. In the last few years, I found I couldn’t control that. She had faded far away. She didn’t even know who I was anymore. Most times, she called me Marcus.
“I can handle the move. I just wanted you to know what was happening,” she insisted.
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“No. I’ll be there,” I said sternly.
My sister, the do-it-all-yourselfer. She was the chief of surgery, a mother of three, a wife, the lead in the church choir, and our mother’s caretaker, well, co-caretaker. I couldn’t leave all of this on her. I had to get home. This was my responsibility, just as much as it was hers.
“Have you heard from Marcus?” I asked, knowing it was a topic neither of us enjoyed.
Teresa and I were only eighteen months apart. We’d grown up together, always had each other’s backs. Marcus was born when I was eight, and Teresa barely ten. He was the baby, the brat actually.
He'd always screamed that no one loved him, that Mom didn’t even love him enough to give him a "T" name. He was ridiculous, and even so, our mother always babied him. She even tried to change his name to Terrance, and he went by that through most of middle school until changing back to Marcus in a fit of rage.
She sighed into the phone. “He came by the hospital last week.”
“How much?” I asked, knowing exactly why he’d shown his face.
There was only one thing you could count on from Marcus. If he showed up, ever, it was for money.
“I gave him a fifty,” she said.
“A fifty?”
“I didn’t have change.”
Years ago, we’d made a vow to never give Marcus more than twenty dollars at a time. He was an addict. The boy was smoking pot and drinking at thirteen and on heavier drugs by fifteen. Both Teresa and I had already moved out, me just making the majors while she was still knee deep in medical books trying to make something of herself. Mom couldn’t handle Marcus. I shouldn’t have left him with her alone.
“I know. I get it,” I assured her.
“I went by your house, just to make sure he hadn’t broken in again,” she said. “Everything looked fine.”
I’d paid for treatment six times, and each time he came out promising to do better. The first time lasted a week. The third was almost six months. The last time, he’d come out of rehab higher than a kite.