The One Night Stand

by Elizabeth Hayley

  But then there had been a second email Jared had sent—she assumed with Gabe’s financial records—the one she’d seen appear in her inbox but had never opened. Whether her reluctance to take that step was due to her morals or the fact that she was scared she’d see Gabe’s role in all of this she didn’t know. Still, the email had remained closed. Though when she'd received it, there was something inside her that told her not to delete it entirely.

  She opened her computer and hovered the mouse over Jared’s email, which he’d appropriately titled “In case you need it….” She needed it. She really needed it. But she couldn’t bring herself to look at it. At least not yet.

  Picking up her phone, she scrolled through her contacts until she found Rick’s name. She hadn’t spoken to her boss in a couple weeks, and she knew he’d want good news. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any to give him.

  When he answered, he sounded hopeful. “Rach, what’s new on the Philly beat? You find what you’re looking for yet?”

  “No one says ‘Philly beat,’” Rachel said on a soft laugh, but she was thankful for the short reprieve from her worry. “And not much, really. That’s actually what I called about. I’m kind of stuck. I don’t doubt the club exists, but I’m not sure I can prove it. And I have no idea how to find out who the major players are. Has anyone talked to Barnes again? I think he’s our best option right now.” Rachel could hear how quickly she was talking, but she needed to rip the Band-Aid off and tell Rick she didn’t have anything.

  She heard Rick sigh heavily. “Barnes is back in rehab. He’s not gonna be talkin’ to anyone for a while. I already tried, but it’s one of those fancy-shmancy places that rich people go to.”

  It was Rachel’s turn to sigh. “I don’t know where to go from here, then.” She hoped Rick would offer a suggestion or at least a bit of empathy. But she should’ve known better. Rick was a good guy—and she’d consider him more of a friend than most people would consider their boss—but when it came down to it, Rick had a job to do. And that job involved making sure Rachel did hers.

  “Well you better figure it out quick,” Rick snapped. “This may have just been a unicorn in the beginning, but now we need it. It’s not just your ass on the line, it’s mine too. I fought for you to stay in Philly. You think Beckett wanted to spend a small fortune putting you up in some apartment in another city indefinitely?”

  She knew Mark Beckett, the magazine’s owner, had approved the funding for her investigation, but she didn’t know Rick had ‘fought’ for it. She didn’t like owing people favors. “I didn’t ask you to fight for me.”

  “No, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did. And I did it because I believed you could uncover this story. I believed in you. But if Beckett thinks he spent a shit ton of money on something that doesn’t pan out, in my mind only one of two things can happen. Beckett’ll fire both of us, or he’ll only fire you and send somebody to finish what you started down there. You might wanna note that both scenarios involve your sudden unemployment. So before you throw in the towel, you should probably make sure you’ve exhausted all your options.”

  “’Kay,” was all Rachel could say without her voice shaking audibly. And with that, she said a quick goodbye, told Rick she’d be in touch, and hung up the phone.

  ***

  “What’s in this thing, a dead body?” Jace leaned down to set the huge box back down on the skid. They’d picked it up only moments earlier before realizing that the two of them probably couldn’t move it on their own.

  “It’s a new blackjack table. Solid oak, so yeah,” Gabe said, “it’s heavy. That’s another downside to owning this place. Can’t have anyone deliver anything inside. It was risky enough to have them drop it out front like this.” Gabe began pulling the box apart while he spoke. “We gotta put it together anyway, so we can take it inside piece by piece since that'll be easier.”

  “I charge extra for assembly,” Jace joked. “I was hired solely on the assumption that I’d be the muscle.”

  Gabe stared at him. “You’re never the muscle. Speaking of which, I gotta get a new bouncer. One of the guys is moving out to Washington because his daughter’s having a baby, and he wants to be closer to it.”

  Jace shook his head. “It’s a human being. You can’t just call it an it.”

  “You just did.”

  Jace looked confused until finally it seemed he realized what Gabe meant.

  “And what’s with the sudden urge to defend babies? Aly’s not pregnant, is she?” The guys pulled most of the box apart and began grabbing some of the pieces to take inside.

  “Nah,” Jace answered. “But we’ll probably try right after we get married. We both want a big family.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Wouldn’t it be awesome to have a bunch of little Bennings running around? It’d be like my own personal football team.”

  Gabe stopped walking and turned around, wondering if he was serious. Why the hell anyone would want a bunch of kids he’d never understand. “I don’t know, man. That’s a lot of responsibility. And a football team? That’s a lot of fuckin’ kids. They poop and cry and hit each other and they want dinner every night.” Gabe couldn’t even imagine what it was like to have a large family. Growing up, it had only been him and his mom until he moved to the United States. He was used to flying solo, and he’d come to accept it would probably always be that way. At least he was until Rachel had come back into his life.

  “I realize what they do, Gabe. I have like a million nieces and nephews,” he reminded him before continuing to walk.

  “Yeah, but they’re not your kids. It’s different when they’re your own, ya know?”

  “I guess, yeah. But what do you know about kids?”

  Gabe laughed as if the question were ridiculous. “I know more than you think. Running this business is like raising a bunch of children. I have to keep track of what they’re doing and who they’re talking to, sometimes they ask for more money, or complain to me about their co-workers. The struggle is real.” Gabe tried to make his voice light, but he wasn’t actually kidding. Running the club had been a lot more difficult than he’d anticipated, and so far the rewards hadn't made up for it. Though he hoped with time they would.

  “It can’t be that bad,” Jace said. “The place seems to run smoothly, and the guys seem happy. You’d never know it’s been tough on you.”

  Gabe put a piece of the table down and leaned it carefully against the building so he could open the door, and then Jace held it open while Gabe picked the wood back up again. “That’s good to hear,” Gabe said. “I guess it’s nothing major. That Barnes guy hasn’t been bothering me anymore. I don’t know.” He sighed. “It’s all the little shit that adds up to being a pain in the ass. Like the bouncer thing. Oh, and I didn’t even tell you that my bank called and said their whole system was hacked a few weeks ago, did I?”

  “No. Shit, really?”

  “Yeah, it fuckin’ sucks. And I don’t even know how the bank is handling it or if they have any precautions in place to keep it from happening again. I mean, I’d assume they would up their security, but I have no idea how any of that computer shit works. I can barely order a pizza online.”

  “Yeah, I hear ya,” Jace said as he put down the pieces of the table he’d brought in. “I don’t understand much about technology either. I wonder what they could even do with whatever information they got. You don’t have a credit card or anything from that bank, do you?”

  “No. Nothing. Only the accounts that Mike had set up years ago. The lawyers just had my information transferred onto everything. I let them handle all that and signed whatever papers I was supposed to sign and that was it. The whole thing makes me nervous, but I don’t even know what there is to be nervous about.” He ran his hands roughly through his hair in frustration and settled them on the top of his head, sighing deeply. “God, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  Jace laughed. “Do you ever?”

  Chapt
er Seventeen

  When Rachel arrived at the local college stadium, it surprised her how many people were at the baseball camp. When Gabe had told her about the camp he helped with, she had pictured him and a few other guys and a handful of kids from the community. But as she made her way through the venue, which had been set up with various stations where kids could learn different baseball skills, she had a feeling that Gabe had downplayed the camp.

  There had to be almost a hundred kids ranging in age from four up to ten (Gabe had said that the following week was the camp for the older age group), and though the camp appeared to have enough staff to successfully run without the supervision of parents, many had chosen to stay in a roped off section behind one of the dugouts. Rachel had a feeling that had more to do with their desire to perhaps meet the baseball players than it did their desire to see their children improve their skills. The fathers looked star struck as they looked out over the field intently. And though the moms looked just as pleased to be there, Rachel knew it was probably for a much different reason.

  And she couldn’t blame them. Seeing so many good-looking guys in tight pants would’ve made her take a few days off from work too. But since this was her job, she didn’t have to worry about that. She took her time walking through the camp, getting a few pictures of the players interacting with the children. As she roamed around, she found herself as interested in what was happening around her as the families seemed to.

  After about ten minutes, Rachel found Gabe on the other side of the field. He was giving a mini-lesson on fielding to about ten kids who looked to be no older than seven. It reminded her why she never went into a discipline that required her to work with young children: Though they were cute, they were nearly impossible to keep focused. Since they didn’t typically like to share with one another, they all wanted the ball at the same time, even though it was only Gabe and one other player hitting the ball so they could take turns fielding it.

  Gabe saw her and gave her a wave before hitting a grounder to a little boy with dark floppy hair and a few missing front teeth. The boy ran toward it and lowered his glove, but the ball rolled right through his legs. The boy bent over to make a play for the ball, but it was too far under him, so he completely tipped over when he tried to grab it under his legs. A blonde girl, who looked slightly older than the boy who’d just missed the play, ran from a few yards away and made the play, causing the boy to burst into tears instantly when he saw the girl had “stolen” his ball. Then he sat down in the grass and pulled his knees to his chest in frustration.

  The girl threw the ball back to Gabe, who encouraged the boy to get up and try again. “That happened because there was space between your glove and the grass, Dylan. Make sure your glove touches the ground this time,” Gabe called to him. “And don’t run up on the ball. Let it come to you.” Dylan stared at him but made no move to stand. Gabe immediately jogged out to the boy. He crouched down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Gabe said a few words to him, though Rachel couldn’t hear what they were, and then put his hand out for Dylan to slap. Gabe turned toward the direction from which he’d come and got into position again. He hadn’t waited to see if the boy would stand, but by the time Gabe was ready to hit it again, Dylan was ready to field. Gabe hit a ball right to him this time, and thankfully the boy stopped it. Though it did take him a few tries to pick it up with his glove.

  Gabe and the other player continued to hit grounders—and some pop-ups—to the kids, who all seemed like they were having a great time. But what was more fun than watching the children learn about the game was watching Gabe play it with them. From his beaming smile, Rachel could tell he genuinely enjoyed his time there. Despite Gabe having told her when they were at dinner once that he wasn’t good with kids, the opposite seemed to be true. That’s when she realized that she really didn’t have much information about the camp. Other than telling her that he participated in it, Gabe hadn’t said much. She didn’t know how long he’d been doing it, who was in charge of it, or how the kids participating were chosen. All she knew was that the camp lasted one week per age group and—judging by the way they were dressed—they all got lime green T-shirts when they arrived.

  Rachel removed her tablet from her bag and began taking notes and some pictures, though she was careful not to get any of the kids’ faces in the shots. She walked over to the parents and assured them that no pictures of their children would be published without their written consent.

  Finally there was a break in the action, and Gabe jogged over to her, wrapping his strong arms around her. She had the urge to grab his ass in his tight pants but managed to control herself. She didn’t think groping one of the players was appropriate for the setting they were in. That would have to wait until later when they were alone after the dinner they had planned.

  “How long have you been here?” Gabe asked. “Did you see Manny? He’s around here somewhere.” He craned his neck to see over the crowd. He seemed so excited to share the experience with Rachel, and it made her even happier that she’d decided to come.

  “Only about twenty minutes,” she said, answering his first question. And then, “And no, I didn’t see Manny yet. This place is insane. I can’t believe what a huge event this is.”

  “Go big or go home,” Gabe said.

  “Did you just make that up?” Rachel teased. “That’s a clever saying.”

  “Shut up,” he joked. “But seriously, it has gotten pretty big over the years. When we first started it seven years ago, we had like four guys and a few groups of kids. It’s really expanded, especially the past few years. More and more guys wanna help, and more kids wanna come. It’s pretty awesome.”

  “Wait,” Rachel said, confused. “So you were one of the ones who started this thing?”

  “Yeah,” Gabe said, looking surprised that she asked him the question. “Didn’t I tell you that?”

  “No, you didn’t tell me that.” Rachel’s voice grew louder, but it wasn’t out of anger. It was out of shock.

  “Oh,” Gabe shrugged. And the smile on his face let her know that he knew he’d intentionally left that detail out. “I started it,” he said simply. “Well, me and my buddy, Justin. We both got picked up the same year, and we wanted to do something for the community since we were both new to it. Justin’s from Atlanta, and he wouldn’t have done a thing with his life if it weren’t for baseball, so we have that in common.”

  “You would’ve done something,” Rachel tried to assure him.

  “Nope. Probably not,” Gabe said casually. “The only reason my mom sent me to this country is because she figured if I had a shot to play baseball in college, I should get a better education than the one I was getting in Puerto Rico. No baseball, no education,” he said. “It’s that simple.”

  The next group of kids arrived at Gabe’s spot on the field, and the other player instructing the group looked like he was waiting for Gabe to come over so they could begin. “Okay,” Gabe said, “I gotta get back to the kids, but if you wanna go talk to Justin, he’s over there.” Gabe pointed to one of the stations about ten yards away. “He’s the one wearing number twelve.”

  Rachel looked in the direction Gabe had pointed. “Justin Adams?” she asked, though she already knew it was. The Premiers pitcher had two no-hitters and a perfect game on his resume. But instead of slowing down as he entered his thirties, it seemed he was just getting started. The last two years had been his best seasons by far, but his baseball stats weren’t the only thing that came to mind when Rachel thought of Justin. His name had also been on the customer list that Jared had sent her.

  The first time she’d gone through all the names, she hadn’t even noticed Justin. It might have been because he had such a common name, and there were over fifteen hundred names on the list. But when she’d revisited the document the other day after talking to Rick, she’d noticed Justin because she’d narrowed down the list of people to those in a hundred-mile radius of Philadelphia. Maybe he was her guy.
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  “Thanks,” Rachel said. “I’ll go over there for a little bit and talk to him if he has a few minutes free.”

  Gabe gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her he’d see her later. Then he jogged back over to greet the new group of waiting kids.

  Rachel walked around again for a half hour or so, watching the players and kids working on various skills, and then she headed to where Justin was finishing up with a few boys who looked to be nine or ten. He was showing them the proper way to hold a ball and the right way to bring their leg up before a pitch. She waited for the boys to leave before approaching him. It was the first time she introduced herself as Gabriel Torres’s girlfriend, though she also identified herself as a reporter doing a story on the retired shortstop.

  Justin was more than friendly and answered everything she asked. Unfortunately, she couldn’t directly ask him if the club existed, and oh, by the way, if it does, are you the owner of it? So she stuck to more innocent topics, like how the camp began and if they do any other volunteer work together. The only bit of information that was pertinent was that he and Gabe couldn’t find the time to add anything else major to their plate. Justin had spring training and then the season, so he only had a few months off. And Gabe had his hands full too, though Justin didn’t mention with what.

  Neither of these guys even had time to run a club like that. There was no way a baseball player who traveled for half the year could have the responsibility of owning and managing an elite club. And there was no way Gabe could do it either. Though he was retired, he was always busy. She’d seen it herself. And now that she was in the picture, he had even less time. The realization sent a wave of relief undulating through her. And until she felt it, she didn’t know how badly she’d needed it.