“I think you know.” Amusement edged his voice. “Peanut.”
Her cheeks grew warm. “How do I know I can trust you to keep your mouth shut?”
“You don’t.”
“You could hold it over my head. To get me to stop bugging you about those interviews.”
“I could. But I won’t.”
“Why?”
“I have my reasons,” he said and then chuckled. “G’night, Kelly.”
Before she could reply she heard the decisive click that indicated he’d hung up. Rolling to her side, she put her phone on the nightstand. That had to be a record. They’d actually had a conversation without biting each other’s heads off. Who knew?
Pulling the blanket over her shoulders, she smiled. He didn’t know it yet, but he was going to do that interview with Trevor Jackson. Now she just had to figure out how she was going to make it happen.
* * *
The next morning, Matt walked into the clubhouse and headed for the locker room. As he passed by the lounge he saw Dave Rizzo and Trey Gentry sitting together at one of the round tables farthest from the big-screen television. Gentry was pitching tonight and, not wanting any of the same bullshit Rizzo had pulled the previous night, he detoured inside. He was done tiptoeing around his new teammates. He understood why they didn’t want him on the team. He’d been the enemy for so long it was probably hard for them to see him as anything but. And as much as he’d hated coming to San Francisco, he was here. The Blaze was his team now. At least until Rick Taylor came back.
As he approached the table they stopped talking and looked up at him—Rizzo with undisguised dislike and Gentry with guarded curiosity. Gentry was a rookie, and from what Matt had seen, he was a good guy despite his hero worship of Rizzo.
Dave Rizzo leaned back in his chair with a smug expression on his sun-weathered face. He’d been in the league two years less than Matt and they’d had their share of run-ins over the years. The guy was a helluva pitcher but, unfortunately, he was a grade-A asshole. “What’s your problem, Scanlon? You look like someone kicked you in the nuts.” Rizzo shot Gentry an amused smirk. Gentry was smart enough not to grin back.
“You’re my problem.” He fixed Rizzo with his patented stink eye. He’d perfected it over the years and had intimidated many of his opponents with it.
“Me? What’d I do?” Rizzo’s eyes widened with mock innocence.
“Don’t fuck with me,” Matt snapped. “If you pull that shit the next time you pitch I’ll leave you on the mound twisting in the wind.”
Rizzo shot him a confident grin. “I doubt that.”
“You shouldn’t.” He put his hands on his hips and glared at him. “What you know about the hitters in this league couldn’t fill a shot glass. And if you start questioning my calls again you’ll find out just how much I know about them because they’ll be hitting jacks off you all night. Or at least until Morgan pulls you out of the game.” He stared pointedly at Gentry. “The same goes for you too, rookie. I know what I’m doing. Don’t make me come out to the mound as many times as I did last night.”
“You’re full of shit,” Rizzo said with a sneer. “The Dodgers kicked your ass to the curb and we had to take you because Taylor’s out for the rest of the year. None of us want you here, Scanlon.”
“I’m here, so deal with it. And you know what? I don’t give a fuck what you think about me. I’m here to play and I’m here to win. If you cross me or question my pitch calls again, I’ll make you pay.” He paused to give Gentry a look of warning. “You want to test me? Go right ahead. I can be your best friend out there, or your worst enemy. It’s your decision.”
Matt shot Rizzo one more hard look and then turned and left the lounge. He walked into the locker room and stopped short when he saw Kelly talking to J.T. in front of J.T.’s locker. As usual, she was wearing her standard attire of dark pants and a baggy blazer. Her hair was again pulled back into a ponytail and for some insane reason, he itched to pull the band from her hair so he see it cascade over her shoulders like it had when she’d interrupted him and Stacia in her kitchen.
What the hell? First, he’d called to apologize to her last night, and now he was thinking about her hair. Jesus. She wasn’t even his type. He preferred petite blondes, not statuesque brunettes with mesmerizing eyes and legs that went on for days.
Resuming his stride, he moved toward her and J.T. She gave him a nod as he walked past them and to his locker.
“Come on, J.T.,” Matt heard Kelly say pleadingly. “Isn’t there anyone you know who could play in the charity game tomorrow? What about a sister? For the love of God, do you have a sister?”
“Nope,” J.T. replied. “Three brothers. Sorry.”
“Damn it to hell,” she muttered. Her smooth forehead wrinkled with a frown. “This is not good.”
“Did you ask Gentry?” Matt asked as he began to unbutton his shirt. “He’s in the lounge with Rizzo.”
Kelly met his gaze, her expression glum. “I struck out. He said it’s not serious and he doesn’t want to ask her to be in the game. He says it might give her ideas.”
J.T. laughed. “Which means she’s just a booty call. Only she doesn’t know that yet.”
“Great. Because he can’t commit, I’m one player short for tomorrow’s game.” She put two fingers to her temples and rubbed. “Maybe I can get Angie to do it.”
“Angie DeMarco? From accounting?” J.T. asked. Matt noted the gleam in J.T.’s eyes. Interesting.
She nodded. “She’s on my coed team.”
“Really?” J.T. asked. “I didn’t know you guys played softball.” He paused. “Maybe you should play, Maxwell.”
“Oh no.” She put her hand up and shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
Matt pulled his shirt off. “Why not?” he asked and then hung it on a peg in his locker. “It’s for charity.” He turned to find Kelly staring at him, her face flushed. “Are you all right?”
“I—I’m fine,” she said, quickly averting her eyes. “I’m not a wife or a girlfriend. I can’t play.”
“Neither is Angie,” J.T. pointed out. “Wait. She’s not dating anyone on the team, is she?”
“No.” She sighed. “She has a strict policy against dating ballplayers.”
“Why?” Matt asked, again noting J.T.’s interest in all things Angie.
“I’m really not sure,” Kelly said and then groaned. “Damn it. I just remembered she’s off on Thursday to help her mother paint her house.”
“Looks like you’ll have to take one for the team, Maxwell.” Matt grinned. “Come on, show us those mad softball skills you claim to possess.”
“Yeah. We don’t want the A’s wives to beat our girls,” J.T. chimed in. “With you we’ve got a chance to kick their asses. They beat us last year. It was ugly.”
“No.” Her tone was vehement.
“Why not?” Matt asked.
“I prefer to remain behind the scenes. Softball is something I do on my own time.”
“The team needs you.” J.T. put his hands on his hips and gave her a pleading look. “Don’t let us down.”
“No. That’s my final answer,” she said firmly and turned to leave.
“If you play I’ll do the interview with Trevor Jackson.” The words were out of Matt’s mouth before he could stop them. Kelly froze in her tracks and slowly turned around.
“Are you serious?” She searched his face warily.
“Yep. I’ll do one interview if you play in the charity game.”
Indecision flashed in her eyes but then she nodded. “Okay.” She cocked her head. “You won’t change your mind at the last minute, will you?”
“No. I give you my word.” He lifted his hand and made a cross over his chest with his finger. A luminous smile lit her face and caused Matt’s breath to hitch. “I’ll do it before the game,” he said, unable to tear his gaze from her.
“I’ll call Trevor,” she said and looked at J.T. “Those A’s wives are toast.” She
grinned, then turned and left the locker room.
J.T. let out a short laugh. “I think you just got played.”
“You think?” Matt asked before turning to his locker. “I have to do interviews eventually. At least I’m doing something to help the team.”
“You know, Maxwell’s okay.” J.T. sat down in front of his locker to unlace his shoes. “I might have to check out one of her softball games.”
Matt held his tongue. J.T. was so transparent it wasn’t even funny. The guy had women panting after him like rabid dogs yet the minute he’d learned that Angie DeMarco played on Kelly’s coed team suddenly he was interested in going to a game?
“I’ll go with you,” he said and when J.T. shot him a quizzical look, he shrugged. “It beats staying home and watching reruns.”
* * *
On Thursday morning, Kelly headed for the ladies’ room just down the hall from her office carrying the replica Blaze uniform she’d be wearing in the charity softball game.
They were slated to start at ten-thirty, five hours before the Blaze played the final game in their series with Milwaukee. Since it was for charity, the game only went five innings and whoever was ahead at that point was declared the winner. All tickets purchased for the charity game went to the Wishes Do Come True program and several of the youngsters well enough to attend were able to get in free of charge.
As she passed by her boss’s office, she glanced inside. Katherine was talking to Tom Morgan, the Blaze manager. Neither of them looked happy but then again the word on the street was they’d never gotten along. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be about Matt not doing interviews. Finally, she’d been able to report that Matt had agreed to talk with Trevor Jackson. In fact, they were taping in the media room right now.
Funny how that had worked out. She hadn’t gone into the locker room with a plan but somehow she’d walked out with him agreeing to an interview. How that had happened she still didn’t know. The second Matt had started to undress, she couldn’t think straight. As it turned out, all she had to do was agree to play softball with a bunch of the players’ wives and girlfriends.
Piece of cake.
Pleased with the entire situation, she pushed open the bathroom door and cringed at the sound of someone retching. Concerned, she walked in and let the door close behind her.
“Hello?” She halted in front of the double sinks. “Do you need anything?” There was silence and then the toilet flushed. Seconds later, the stall door opened and her intern Alexis emerged. Her face was red and her eyes were bloodshot. “Are you all right?” she asked as Alexis moved to the sink and turned on the water.
“I’m fine.” Alexis avoided her gaze in the mirror and bent over to splash water on her face.
“Are you sure? Maybe you’re getting the flu.” Kelly hung her uniform on a hook next to the full-length mirror opposite the vanity and moved back to the sink. When Alexis straightened, she pressed her hand to the girl’s forehead. Her skin was cool to the touch. “You don’t feel like you have a temperature.”
“I’m fine.” Alexis turned to pull a paper towel from the dispenser and dried her hands. “It might have been the eggs I ate for breakfast.” Still not meeting Kelly’s gaze, Alexis threw the towel into the waste dispenser and brushed past her. “I’ll go check to make sure everything’s ready for the game,” she said as she opened the door.
“Okay.” Kelly stared at the door a few seconds before retrieving her uniform and going into the larger of the two stalls to change. As she stripped off her clothes, she couldn’t help but wonder if Alexis was purging. Was she suspicious because of her own issues? Maybe Alexis really had eaten some bad eggs. She hoped that’s all it was. Bingeing and purging was a hard habit to break. No one knew that better than she did.
Thirty minutes later, Kelly surveyed her team and wanted to cry. With one exception, not one of the women looked like they knew how to hold a bat, much less throw a ball. She moved to the bottom stair of the dugout, put her fingers to her lips and blew out a loud whistle to quiet their chatter. For better or worse, today, she was their leader.
“Okay, ladies.” She took in their made-up faces and perfectly coiffed hair and tried to muster up a smile. “Any of you ever play ball before?”
A couple of hands rose in the air.
“In high school,” Dave Rizzo’s wife said. Chantal Rizzo was a blonde—bottle blonde, not natural. There was no way that shade of platinum existed in nature. Chantal had also taken the liberty of tying the ends of her Blaze jersey into a knot under her breasts so that her tanned and taut midriff was exposed. Kelly frowned. She’d have to deal with that before Chantal took the field. This was a charitable event and children would be present.
“What position did you play?”
“First base.”
“Then you’ll play first base today. Do any of you run or jog?” Three more hands went up. “Okay, you three take the outfield.” Since they probably couldn’t catch a softball to save their lives, they could run for them.
“I can play shortstop,” Marquis Lopes’s girlfriend said shyly from the far end of the dugout.
Kelly nodded. “The position is yours.” Looking around, she pointed at one particularly well-endowed wife who apparently thought it was cute to wear her baseball cap sideways on her head. “Third base.” She fixed her gaze on another wife. “Second base for you.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll catch, and...” Kelly met the eyes of the only woman in the bunch she knew for sure had any athletic ability at all and said, “Sheila, you’re pitching.”
Sheila Morgan, Tom Morgan’s sister, grinned. “I’ve been practicing. Those girls beat us bad last year. I’ll be damned if they’ll do it again this year.”
A chorus of squealing cheers spontaneously erupted. Kelly shook her head. It was going to be a long five innings.
* * *
“This is sad,” J.T., who was sitting next to him, said just before the bottom of the last inning. “Kelly’s gotten on base every at bat but not one of our other players can get a hit.
“I’m surprised Sheila hasn’t gotten a hit or two,” Matt commented. “She’s a damn good pitcher.”
“So is the A’s pitcher.” J.T. reached under his seat and grabbed a large bottle of water. “She’s definitely played before.” He twisted off the cap and took several long gulps. “I’m surprised the score is only two-zip,” he said a few seconds later.
Stretching his legs out in front of him, Matt couldn’t get over the change in the weather. The past two days had been overcast and chilly. Today, however, was beautiful. The temperature was in the mid-70s and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Hopefully, the warmer weather would hold for their game later on.
Matt scanned the ballpark as the teams changed sides. It wasn’t packed like it was for the Blaze games. Only the lower sections between first and third bases were filled. The section he was in, just behind the Blaze dugout, had been reserved for Blaze players and the kids from the charity. After the game the players would mingle with the kids and the fans. They’d sign autographs, take pictures, that kind of thing. And while he believed wholeheartedly in the cause, he’d made it a point this past year to avoid any charitable events associated with children. But today he had no choice, he’d just have to do his best to get through it.
“Good game last night,” J.T. remarked. “Gentry was solid. And you didn’t have to go to the mound as much as you did when Rizzo pitched.”
Matt shifted in his seat, inhaling the aroma of cotton candy that wafted in the air. “I’m just glad we won. But we’re still trailing the Dodgers and the Padres.”
The Blaze game announcer’s melodic voice came over the P.A. system. “Now batting is Chantal Rizzo.”
J.T. elbowed him in the side as Chantal sashayed to the plate. “I’ll bet the carpet doesn’t match the drapes.”
Matt chuckled. Rizzo’s wife was definitely not a natural blonde. She was attractive though. If you liked that type. Actually, he did like tha
t type. Or he had. But looking at Chantal, he felt nothing. Not even a glimmer of interest.
Chantal swung at the first pitch and hit a blooper that trickled toward third base. With a loud squeal, she dropped her bat and took off toward first base. The pitcher fielded it and threw it to first. Chantal would have been out but, as luck would have it, the ball passed through the legs of the woman on first base. Chantal, seeing her chance, rounded first and ran to second base. When she got there safely, she jumped up and down like the cheerleader she’d probably been. The crowd clapped and whistled enthusiastically, thrilled to see someone other than Kelly get a hit.
As the announcer said her name, Sheila Morgan trotted out of the dugout, eager to get to the plate. She took her stance, waited and then took the first pitch; it was called a strike. She took the next pitch; it was a ball. When the third pitch was delivered, she swung and connected. The ball sailed over the pitcher and right at the woman playing second base. She put her glove up, but the ball glanced off the top webbing and fell directly behind her. Chantal wisely stayed put on second and Sheila made it to first base without a problem.
“Hey, maybe we have a shot.” J.T. leaned forward in his seat and clapped as Kelly emerged from the dugout. “Yo, Maxwell. Knock one into the cove,” he yelled through cupped hands.
Kelly must have heard him; she turned and scanned the crowd. She grinned, gave J.T. a thumbs-up and then walked to the plate. When the announcer said her name, the fans cheered. They’d seen her get two hits already and were hoping that, somehow, she could pull out a win for the team.
Matt leaned forward, as hyped as the spectators around him. The snug uniform she wore showed off the curves she hid so well under her loose work clothes. Her body was fit and strong. Every move she’d made on the field today had showcased her athletic ability. There was a confidence about her that surprised him. She played like she loved the game. He knew the feeling. He’d played that same way until last year.
The crowd went silent as Kelly waited for the pitch. The pitcher went into her windup and let loose a fastball. Kelly took the pitch and then stepped out of the batter’s box after the umpire called it a strike. The crowd remained mute as she resumed her place at the plate, her eyes focused on the pitcher. She swung at the next pitch. It nicked her bat and sailed back into the stands. A foul ball and strike two.
The Winning Season Page 6