by Faith O'Shea
He opened a drawer to find all kinds of fruits, another to find meats and cheeses, still amazed at the amount of food at his disposal.
Left alone with his mother after his father’s abandonment when he was six, they had had to scrimp to survive. Only with his trips to Rotterdam, Australia, Canada was he able to make extra cash by selling the cigars his country was known for. The state would give the players boxes of them and if one had the right mind-set and personality, they could sell them on the black-market for spending money. He’d forced himself to become racketeer so he could buy his mother some of the things he thought she’d like.
Her voice was measured when she said, “I had some idea of what you liked and tried to guess at the rest. If there’s anything missing, let me know.”
He retrieved a beer, looked over and asked, “Do you want one?”
Her head was tilted while she studied him. He thought for sure she’d go scampering into her bedroom and close the door, but she surprised him.
“Seeing that I told you I’d keep you company tonight, we might as well hang out, so yeah, I do. Let me change first. Get out of this suit. Then I’ll join you.”
He watched as she retreated down the hallway. Her stride was back to confident and sure.
She didn’t scream femininity. There was no sashay, no sexy clothing, no flirtatious fluttering of eyelashes. She was all angles but with curves in all the right places. Her cheekbones were chiseled, her frame lean and athletic. He’d bet his life she worked out at the gym, ate healthy, and didn’t drink much even though she’d drunk heavily in Mexico. He’d also bet that was on his account. She’d been wired as she tried to make headway through the morass that was immigration, spending hours on phone calls to various international entities, negotiating for his release. The nights were spent drinking rum and tequila, in the hotel bar, discussing baseball rather than life. She’d complained that she was wasting her vacation time on worry and frustrated plans. He’d gotten to know very little about her, and she probably knew even less about him, the man, not the ballplayer. Tonight, he hoped to learn more.
He twisted the cap off the beer and took a swig. It was a brand he’d never heard of before, but it was good. Dark and bold. He glanced at the name again so he could commit it too memory. He’d order more as he needed.
He sank into the plush cushions of the white couch. He’d have to make sure he was clean when he came back here from practice. It wouldn’t take much to soil the material. He rubbed his hand against the soft surface, looked around again, still not believing that this was now his home. Far different from the four-bedroom wooden structure he’d lived in until he moved to Camagüey to play ball. It was generations old, built before the revolution, weathered, beaten down from the hurricanes, weathered, and neglected from lack of cash. They wouldn’t have that problem anymore. If his mother wanted to stay in Cuba, he could have moved her to Camagüey or Havana, where she could have led a good and prosperous life, but it was not what she wanted. She wanted freedom; the kind unavailable to them in his place of birth. She was the one who wanted a new lifestyle. He scanned the room again. She could never imagine such luxury, so he was sure this was not what she had in mind.
When Alicia came back out, she was dressed in ripped jeans and a multi-colored sweater. Her feet were bare, and he zoomed right in on her toenails. They were the same color, with the same kind of sparkles as her fingers, and it sent a jolt through him. It was more intimate than he’d expected. While in Cancun, he might have slept in the room next to hers, but the door was securely locked between them. Then she was gone, and he was sent to Brazil to wait out his visa application process. He had to admit he’d enjoyed his time there and should have gotten used to such surroundings, Livia dos Santos creating a beautiful home. But this was his. He was paying for it with his money, money he’d yet to earn. The Greenliners were counting on him to fulfill his role at third base and at the plate. He wasn’t sure he’d live up to his hype. Was that why she was here? Dan must have sent Alicia to handle him because of the same kinds of concerns.
He looked over as she took a tentative seat on the other couch, that one a deep blue. It reminded him of the sea just outside his window. A thrill of ownership swept through him, pride filling his chest. Or was it this woman’s presence that made it vibrate and thrum so intently? She was holding the beer in both hands as if to occupy them. There was unease in her posture, but she opened up to conversation. “It must have been tough yesterday, being witness to that.”
She was speaking of Farina’s death. It had thrown him. He was as much amazed at the ambulance that had raced to the field and the way the medical personal had conducted the emergency as he was the actual death. He’d been taught that there was no better healthcare system than the one they had in Cuba but yesterday had proven that wrong.
“It was unnerving. I didn’t know the man well, but it would have been better had he lived to keep the ship on course, yes?”
She took a swig of the beer, licked the foam off her lips. A spike of heat caught him low in the gut. He’d need to keep his tone modulated.
She gazed at him with undisguised concern. “It is causing some problems for upper management.”
He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable.
“They were meeting today to discuss who will take over?”
“Yeah and I have a feeling we should be hearing something soon. They met hours ago, and I know they were already close to a decision before they did.”
Just as she said that, both of their phones pinged.
“This could be it.”
She thumbed the icon and the text popped up. Mateo did the same.
We have just reached an agreement with Mac Calipari and he has been hired as the new manager of the Greenliners. He will be assuming Jethro Farina’s duties immediately and will be handling all administrative concerns. He will be contacting all players and staff to discuss their futures with the team. He has a lot of ground to cover with spring training just weeks away, and I expect full cooperation from everyone involved.
Mateo was the first to respond.
“Seb is not going to be happy.”
“Neither is Casey. Her father counts on her for a lot, and it will mean interaction with the team, and a certain left fielder.” There was a downward tilt to her mouth as if his name was distasteful. “Seb…” She stopped, bit her lip as if unwilling to go on.
He helped her out by admitting, “I know he dated Mac’s daughter in high school and then broke up with her. He said Mac was not a forgiving kind of guy. Did you already know? About Mac?”
“Casey told me the owners met with him and it went well. Hiring him seemed the natural progression from there.”
She got up to put on the TV so they could hear any news on the new hire. After flicking through a couple of stations, she put the remote down. He figured it was the channel she usually watched.
When she’d settled back, he smiled and said, “I bet you get more inside information from your friend than from your boss now.”
She fiddled with the label on the beer, picking it away from the bottle.
“Maybe. Dan thought they were leaning that way, as well.” She gave him a pointed look. “Mac’s a good choice. I watched him play while I was growing up. There’s no one fiercer or more committed to win. It might be Seb’s bad luck but not the team’s.”
“You’ve known Casey a long time.”
“Yeah. I used to sit in the press box when I first started going to the home games with Dad, but before and after, he’d take me down on the field to talk to the players. She would be there with her mom and Mac and we hit it off, started hanging out together even off the field. As I got older, I sat with her and her mom most of the time.”
“You were around when they were dating?”
She knew who they were.
“Yeah. They dated their last two years of high school, inseparable really, and he was on both the school team and a town league. Translation? He tho
ught Mac was the bomb, one of the reasons he became a left fielder, and he went to as many Greenie games as he could. They were so good together and I never understood…”
She opened and then closed her mouth, took a deep breath, and said, “Casey’s one of my best friends and I’m a bit biased when it comes to what happened. But Seb was honest with her and I can’t fault that. People don’t necessarily grow old together. That she wanted to was on her, not him.”
“Mac doesn’t see it the same way?”
“No. For a lot of different reasons, which I’m not going to get into.”
“Do you see her often?”
“Yeah. She should have been with me in Cancun but Mac… or Greg…not sure who, talked her into staying home.”
“Greg?”
“Her fiancé. She got engaged a couple of months ago, on her birthday.”
“So, she’s over him. Seb.”
She cocked her head to the side, looked out into the distance, through the glass sliders to the sea.
“I honestly don’t know. She’s moved on, yes, but…” Her eyes returned to meet his. “Does anyone ever get over their first love?”
He could tell she hadn’t. Was it the man who’d betrayed her? She hadn’t spelled it out, but she’d insinuated she’d been cheated on. Was that why she felt a certain admiration for the way Seb had handled the break-up?
“I wouldn’t know. I have not been in love.”
She gave him an incredulous stare. “Never?”
“What I thought was love was only a passing fancy. I realized quickly I didn’t want to spend my life with her. I haven’t met anyone yet with whom I do.”
The irony wasn’t lost on either of them. He’d sworn before a priest to spend his life with her.
As if that sentiment made her uneasy, she drained her beer and rose. “Want another?”
“Yes, please. If you don’t mind.”
“I should be asking you that. I didn’t buy this, you did.”
“I will share whatever I have with you. Help yourself.”
She paused in mid-stride before she moved into the kitchen and retrieved the beers. After handing one over, she reclaimed her seat on the coach. She sat silently again until he asked,
“How long have you been with the Greenliners?”
“Close to eight years. I worked part-time while I was in college and was offered a permanent position when I graduated.”
“The one you have now?”
“No. That promotion came after my predecessor’s retirement.”
“What exactly do you do?”
“Take care of the daily operations of the team, the club house, the minor league affiliates, contract tenders, player transactions, payroll, insurance, and I handle the immigration program.”
“Seb tells me you are the one he goes to when he’s got a problem.”
She guessed she could have added confidante, friend, critic to every guy who played for them. They’d given her the hashtag Ursus, whose meaning included every kind of bear. She wasn’t just mama, but part grizzly, guardian, and nourisher.
“Most of them do. I not only help guide them through the process but help through rough patches by keeping tabs on what they’re doing, how they’re handling their finances. I’m mental health coach and all-round cheerleader for the team. I have a feeling I’ll be holding Seb’s hand quite a lot from here on in.”
“Don’t leave out the ultimate sacrifice. You even marry players who are trying to defect.”
Although she couldn’t deny it, she could dismiss the notion she would have done it for anyone.
“Must admit, that’s a first. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”
Just as she finished with that declaration, the local news station news broke the story about Mac, and they both turned their attention to the ten-minute briefing.
CHAPTER SIX
Allie watched but wasn’t really listening. She was back to the fact that she’d exchanged vows with this man to acquire a third baseman. If truth be told, it had nothing to do with in-depth analysis of what she could bring to the team but more to do with how he made her feel. She never would have suggested it if she hadn’t felt some kind of attraction. That he was a ball player made it impossible for her to develop any kind of relationship but marrying him hadn’t been noble. She’d acted on crazy impulse. She usually called it going with her gut, and more often than not, it worked out well. This time? It had just been crazy. She was actually tied to a man who made her quiver when he looked at her with dark and mysterious black eyes, whose voice sent a ripple of sensation along her spine. And the kiss was still a vivid memory. She’d been shocked by her response to him, wanted to take the kiss deeper, see where it led. Only her pride had kept her from doing so.
The weather had just come on, meaning she’d missed the entire segment on the Greenliners. Didn’t matter. She knew it all.
Mateo said, “You don’t like marriage. How do you feel about divorce?”
It had no bearing on the clip he’d just watched and the jump in topic had her stumbling around for an answer.
She shrugged. “One’s the same as the other.”
“Why is that?”
She was studying him beneath her lashes, sensed he was trying to get to know her. She wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but for some reason, she answered him. Maybe seeing how dysfunctional her family was, he’d understand why she did the crazy.
“Let’s see. My parents married, stayed together until I was four. Separated. Dated others. Got back together when I was eight. When I was twelve, they divorced, and my mother remarried. That lasted close to three years but when it ended my parents got back together again. Are you following?”
“I must admit, I’m a bit dizzy.”
“Translation? Marriage doesn’t mean forever, but, from my standpoint, neither does divorce.”
“That must have been hard for you.”
She shrugged. It had been difficult, but she’d survived it.
“Funny thing. We, my brothers and I always lived in the same home. It was my parents who did the musical-chair routine. We lived with our father when he was around, and when he went out on the road, our mother moved back in, new husband, when she had one, and all. When that marriage went belly-up, she moved back in for good. They’ve been back together close to ten years and it looks like it might last, but who knows. Oh, and they had another kid. My sister, Scarlet, is nine.”
“Why did she leave in the first place?”
“She told us she was lonely. With my father on the road so much of the year, and with three kids at home, she didn’t really have much of a life.”
She’d never asked the question that would have sullied her opinion of her father, but the possibility of his infidelity was a monster hiding in the closet. She didn’t want to look too closely for fear it was the real thing.
“That seems to be a common complaint. But just so you know, guys get lonely, too.”
“I know they do. It’s one of the issues I help players deal with, especially the new ones.”
“If your father covers the team, he must be on the road as much as the players.”
“Yeah. When I got old enough, he took me with him a lot.”
He took all three of his oldest children with him. It was one of the reasons she’d held out hope he’d been one of the good ones. Why have kids underfoot if you were wining and dining potential bedmates?
“Just you?”
“No. We all got a turn. Except for my sister. She never wants to go, doesn’t like the sport at all. She’s more my mother’s daughter.”
“What makes you say that?”
“My mother owns a pottery studio. Gives lessons, creates works of art that she sells at shops in Rocky Neck and Rockport. She’s an earth mother. Long skirt, peasant blouse, Birkenstock sandals kind of woman. My sister loves working the wheel, has developed quite a talent in clay.”
She’d tried throwing clay when she was Scarlet’s age, but s
he’d failed dismally. Her hands were better suited to catching a softball than trying to mold soft, gooey material into some kind of vessel.
“How many siblings in all?”
“Three. Two brothers, Carl and Jackie, and Scarlet. All with the same parents for some reason.”
She’d never really given that more than a cursory glance but was there intention there? Did Ida go back with Bob when she wanted another child? She was going to ask next time she visited the pottery barn.
Mateo said, “I always wished for siblings. Having only one child was hard on my mother. I was gone a lot and she had much on her shoulders.”
She met his eyes. There was genuine sadness there.
“What happened to your father?”
“He defected to Miami when I was six.”
He said it matter-of-factly, with no rancor at all.
“He left you behind?”
“He told my mother he would bring us over when he was settled, but instead, he married another woman and had another family. That is something that happens quite often.”
It happened often? What the fuck…
“They never divorced?”
“He saw no need.”
“But it meant she couldn’t start over again with someone else.”
“It did not seem to be high on his list of concerns.”
That son of a bitch.
“I’m sorry. That had to suck for her. And you.”
“Very few of us get an idyllic childhood. Our struggles can strengthen us if we don’t let them bury us.”
No truer words had ever been spoken.
He was different than she’d imagined. She’d been so busy those first few days she hadn’t asked him anything about his personal life, only his baseball history. It was important information for her to have for the decision to sign him or not. She hadn’t seen beneath the surface, hadn’t looked. Or maybe she had, more than she’d thought. He was self-motivated, disciplined, and…wise. Her mother would call him an old soul. She’d thought it might be interesting to introduce him to her, get Ida’s take. She’d been right about Steve. Told her he wasn’t a man she could count on and she’d been right. Allie must have listened to “Before He Cheats” a thousand times. There were a few others included in that cycle but that was the one she immersed herself in. She’d wanted to take a Louisville slugger to his head, not his headlights. Everyone on the team knew, everyone on staff. Everyone but her. He’d made a fool of her and it took months to get over that betrayal, to face the men who’d kept it secret. The men she had to work with. She’d almost quit but was saved from that decision when management traded him, something she had nothing to do with.