It was. I should’ve realized that, but I didn’t. So I did what I did best when it came to Mallory, I changed the subject. “Oh, I can’t make it to the library tomorrow afternoon. Carter wants to hit the cages.”
“No problem.” Her alarm buzzed on her cell. Our brief lunch was up. Mallory grabbed her bag and kissed my cheek. “I’ll call you later.”
Monday morning, Coach called me into the locker room along with ten other guys. We stood in line to pee in a cup. Random drug testing had begun. For a moment, I almost panicked. Almost. It had been well over a week since I took anything. I was safe. No way I’d fail.
Seth came out of the stall. He raised an eyebrow at me as I took a cup.
“Relax,” I whispered.
Seth nodded once as he passed by. Nothing to worry about.
Jason showed up on campus discreetly hidden under a Westland cap and sweatshirt. I met him at the parking lot of the training center. Anybody who glanced at him probably thought he was just another grad student. Until he showed up at the indoor cages. Everyone knew who he was then. Fortunately, I’d asked Coach to close the cages for exactly that reason.
“Hey, Carter, great series!” Rosenthal sidled up to him with three balls.
I shoved him out of the way. “Beat it, rookie.” Jason glanced at him, and I smiled. “He’s the reason I’m on the DL.”
Carter shook his head and signed balls while fielding questions for ten minutes before Coach finally freed us from the masses. I had to admit being in his limelight wasn’t a bad thing. Rosenthal weaseled his way back in, and I didn’t kick him out. Jason Carter was everyone’s hero these days. The rookie interrogated me on how I knew Carter and why I’d never shared that particular secret. I shrugged it off, but Jason told him we had a mutual friend. Neither one of us mentioned Mallory. Chuck and Seth stared at me with deadpan expressions. I knew what they were thinking, they’d get me drunk enough I’d tell them how I met the pro. I made a mental note not to drink with them anytime soon.
“All right, stud, show me this swing I’ve heard so much about.” Carter leaned against the protective fence with a smirk.
“Stud, huh? Guess my reputation precedes me.” I tugged on my batting gloves before stepping into the cages. My knee was wrapped tight under the brace. I had popped enough aspirin to kill a normal human. They only dulled the pain. I mentally thanked Seth for the supplements. I’d taken two after lunch, and it was like power surging through me. Even though I knew it was psychosomatic, it felt good to be strong again. Supplements can’t make you feel like Superman. I double-checked the label to see what was in them. There was more B-12 than the body needed, but that was it.
“You better not have a reputation outside the field.” Carter’s voice darkened, and I turned before starting the machine. “Mallory means a lot to me, Betts.”
I nodded but didn’t respond. My gut tightened, and anger raged through me like a volcano ready to blow. He had no reason to say that. Mallory wasn’t his sister. She wasn’t anything other than an old family friend. I reached out and turned the key, setting the speed at seventy-five to warm up. Hitting balls, that’s what I needed to ease the fury swirling inside me.
My grip tightened around the bat as I took my stance.
“Relax, Aaron. You’re too tense,” Carter said behind me.
That arrogant asshole. Just because he played pro ball didn’t mean he knew my stance.
The first ball lobbed in toward me, and I swung off-balance, fouling it back. The constant dull throb in my knee picked up the tempo. All that did was make me angrier. I’d barely gotten myself reset when the next ball flew toward the painted-on plate. I kept my head down and made solid contact.
“Nice,” Carter said, following up with a whistle.
I gritted my teeth. To hell with his approval. My swing felt natural and smooth, except for the sharp pain growing in my knee. After ten swings, the throbbing was too much. I did my best to keep it off my face as I pushed open the door and exited the cage. At least my anger had disappeared.
“Mallory’s right. You’ve got skill.” Carter glanced down at my brace, then back up to my face. “Knee still bugging you?”
“Little. Tweaked it last Friday.” I crossed my arms and dug my fingers into my ribs. Tweaked my ass. The fucker hurt worse than it did after the surgery.
“Just don’t do some anything stupid.” Carter didn’t say anything else about my knee after he stepped into the cages. He took ten swings, letting his arms extend and his hips rotate in a smooth motion. I watched his form, studying the little details. His right foot pivoted on the heel only a fraction. He led with his hips, letting them decide where the ball was going. I hated to admit it, but Carter’s technique was damn near perfect.
Bastard.
“She likes you, Betts,” he said as he swung over a ball, sending it bouncing along the concrete floor. “Mallory keeps herself closed off from the world, but she’s let you in.”
I smiled. “A little bit, anyway.”
He reached over to the machine and turned it off. “More than anybody else I’ve met. And I haven’t met that many.”
“You live in St. Louis. How many could you meet?” I pulled off my batting gloves. There wasn’t a reason to leave them on. My swings were done.
“Yeah, maybe, but I’m home over the winters. I’ve met her ex-boyfriends. Not to mention Amie. That girl is… Let’s just say she’s Mallory’s opposite.” Jason left the cage and stared at where I’d dropped my gloves. “Mallory prefers to spend her time alone. For some dumbass reason, she doesn’t mind you.”
I huffed a laugh.
He leaned against his bat and stared at me. “How much do you know about her?”
Probably less than you. I kept that retort to myself, but it deflated me. “She told me about her parents, about her brother.”
His eyes closed, and he rubbed his hand over the tattoo on his forearm. “Shit.”
“What?”
“You know Faust?” He scratched his chin as he waited for my answer. I didn’t have one. “Okay, not an English lit type of guy, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah, not so much.” My knee throbbed a lonely beat, and I had to sit on the bench nearby. “What’s that got to do with Mallory?”
Carter sat beside me and stared off into space. “Mallory’s the victim of a Faustian situation.”
I tried to figure out what exactly he meant, but it didn’t make a lick of sense. “That tells me nothing, Jason.”
He laughed and slapped my shoulder. “Her dad sold out his entire family to make Danny the best. He sold his soul to the devil, so to speak. When the devil came calling, he took more than Coach V. And Mallory’s left to deal with it.” He waited until I met his gaze. “Just do me a favor, Betts. Don’t think her weak. Mallory’s the strongest person I’ve ever known.”
I didn’t have a response, so I nodded. Of course Mallory was strong. She was a fucking mountain.
“And don’t hurt her.” He squeezed my shoulder. “She’s not a risk-taker, but she’s taking one by letting you in. If you do something stupid to screw this up, it could hurt her more than you realize.”
Too fucking late. I faked a chuckle. “Seriously? I’m bound to do something stupid. I’m a guy.”
“True. Anna’s quick to point out my faults whenever possible. Says it keeps my ego in check.” Carter grinned when he mentioned his girlfriend’s name.
“I won’t do anything to hurt her intentionally.” I let the sincerity seep into each word. Doping wasn’t intended to hurt her. Just heal me. Guilt sat in my stomach. “Believe me on that.”
Jason nodded and rolled his shoulders. “Okay.” He nodded again. “Okay. Enough of this sissy bonding bullshit. Let’s hit some more balls. You up for it?”
I wasn’t, but the competitor in me wouldn’t let this go without a tiny fight. Even if it was one I would lose. “Yeah.”
Carter took the cage first, and I watched as he trashed the balls. Mallory said I had a sweet
swing, but it was nowhere near where this guy hit. I could learn from him. Maybe a scout would give me a second glance despite my knee. The roar of the crowd, standing at home plate for my first pro at-bat, the fit of the uniform.
Maybe this dream could become reality.
I smiled, and didn’t stop until I fell asleep later that night.
Chapter Twenty-One
Finals made it hard to do anything but study. During the history final, Dr. Monroe slipped me a note requesting my presence in his office later in the afternoon. Finishing the test was damn near impossible, but I did it with time to spare. Instead of handing it in right away and bolting, my usual MO, I took Mallory’s advice and reviewed a few of the harder questions. My mind refused to remember when Nixon resigned, and I doubted it was 1963.
I handed in my test, getting the stink eye from the good prof, and strolled out of the room knowing I had a passing grade on the final, even if it was a barely passing grade. My paper was another story. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Mallory.
Monroe wants to see me.
She didn’t respond, so I decided the best thing to do was get a late lunch and pretend the appointment didn’t exist. The student union was empty except for a few people huddled over their books and laptops at individual tables. I had a Business Ethics final the next day, then my semester was over.
I sat at the usual spot with a plate full of fries and a burger so greasy it soaked the bun. A celebratory piece of perfection. Mixing the ketchup and mayo on my plate with an extra long fry, I lost my thoughts in the red and white swirls turning pink.
Regardless of whether or not I passed history, the semester was over. It was a huge relief.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” Trish’s voice rubbed against me like a cheese grater.
I shook my head and kept swirling the fry in the ketchup/mayo mix. Maybe if I ignored her long enough, she’d go away. Trish and I had shared so much, but I didn’t know this girl sitting across from me. Her makeup was too heavy, her clothes too tight, and her eyes too dull. The Trish I knew barely wore makeup, dressed conservatively, and her eyes were bright lights on a dark night.
“Look, I know things are…tense between us, but I was hoping we could ride back home together.” She drummed her nails against the table, each beat making my food less appetizing. “Daddy would appreciate not having to drive to get me.”
“What’s wrong with your car?” I slapped my hands together to get the salt off my fingertips.
Trish slumped in her seat, looking more worn down than I’d ever seen her. “Stupid thing’s in the shop again. You’d think after all the recalls I’d have a completely new car by now.”
A small chuckle escaped. Her father bought her a brand-new car when we left for college. It was a first model year, so it had a ton of recalls over the last three years.
“So, what do you say? Can I hitch a ride?” Her fake charming smile wasn’t going to work on me, but her father was a good man.
“Maybe.”
“Need the girlfriend’s permission first?” She pinched her nose. “Sorry.”
“S’kay. But, yeah, out of respect for Mallory’s feelings, I should clear it with her.” I grabbed my tray and headed toward the trash. Half of the burger had gone cold, and my appetite had disappeared along with the heat. I shoved the tray into the trash, shaking the wasted food free.
“You’re kidding, right?” Her shock made me smile.
“Nope.” I set the tray on top of the trashcan. Mallory entered the student union just then. I waved her over with a smile.
“I’m sorry. I… That was uncalled for.” Trish’s gazed darted to Mallory. “Dad would appreciate it if you’d help him out.”
Mallory stopped beside me and I put my arm over her shoulder. “Yeah, okay. As long as Mallory’s cool with it, I’ll take you home.”
Trish turned her wide eyes toward Mallory. My girlfriend glanced at me, confusion covering her face.
“Yeah, sure. I guess,” Mallory said, her gaze steady on me. “He’s going that way anyway.”
“Thank you,” Trish said. She squeezed Mallory’s arm. “I really appreciate it. And so will Dad.”
Mallory waited until Trish was long out of earshot before rounding on me. “What was that?”
“What? I wasn’t going to say yes unless you were okay with it,” I said.
Mallory shook her head. “That wasn’t fair. You never should’ve put me in that position. You’re old enough to make your own decisions. It was…whatever. It’s done.” She glanced at her watch. “Don’t you have to get to Monroe’s office?”
I grabbed her wrist and checked the time. It was ten till. “Shit. Yes. And I’m sorry. I thought… I didn’t want to piss you off by saying yes to her, but I did it anyway.” I kissed Mallory’s forehead. “I am sorry.”
Mallory nodded, but a haunted look filled her eyes. I’d have to make this one up to her big time.
I knocked on Dr. Monroe’s door at four sharp. The man hated it when people were tardy for class; I could only imagine how pissed he’d be if someone he’d summoned was late.
“Enter,” he ordered.
I pushed the door open and stepped into an office the size of a walk-in closet and filled from floor to ceiling with books. Some were old and others had shiny new covers. Monroe sat behind his desk with his head down and a pencil in his hand. He scribbled something onto the blue book flattened on his coffee-stained calendar. Even from the door, I could see all the red ink splashed like blood over that single page. I prayed it wasn’t mine.
“Sit.” He pointed to the lone empty chair in front of his desk. The one beside it was filled with dusty volumes of worn leather books.
I eased into the hard wooden seat, and my mind shifted from the problem before me to Mallory. She’d love this office with all the historical texts and the musty smell of old books. For a moment, I could imagine her sitting across from me.
Dr. Monroe looked up from his grading and glared. He tilted his head to the left, then to the right. “Mr. Betts, I must admit your paper was impressive.” He reached down behind the desk and lifted a leather messenger bag onto his lap. I waited while he dug around and found my now crumpled paper. He set it on his desk, smoothing out the pages. “Now, when I first read this, I concluded someone else must have written it for you.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he held his finger to shut me up. “In fact, I’d held onto the notion until you turned in your final. Surprise is not quite the right word, but it will have to do in this case.” He slid the test back to me and dropped my paper on top.
I reached for them, half afraid of what I’d find. In the upper left side of the paper was a scratched out F, beside it was an A. I shuffled the final to the top and opened the bluebook to find a B. My grin made my cheeks ache.
“Based on the style of your test, you wrote that paper, Mr. Betts. While I’m not 100 percent certain it deserved the A, your work ethic shows a clear academic progression. Hiring Miss Fine as a tutor was probably one of your wisest decisions.” Dr. Monroe slapped the worn vinyl arms of his chair as he leaned back. The squeak sent a shudder down my spine. “History is to be learned from as well as to learn. It is not common knowledge on this campus, but I believe this is something you should know.”
I felt a long story coming on and extended my legs in front of me. The tightness in my muscles welcomed the stretch.
“When I was your age, I played triple-A baseball.”
“Seriously?” The question shot from my mouth like an aboriginal dart.
“Yes, quite seriously. About a week before Labor Day, I got the call.” His eyes glazed over as he went back to that time. “Being there was a dream come true. The lights of Fulton County Stadium were never brighter. I stayed with the team for three days, never making it out of the bullpen, before I was sent back to the minors.”
“Wow. I never…” Even the idea that this man played pro ball struck me as incredible. Looking at him now, I could see only the snoot
y old professor.
Dr. Monroe smiled, something else I never expected. “Most people wouldn’t guess. I blew out my elbow before the season was over and that ended my career.” Monroe sat up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “My point is you already know your body is fragile, Aaron. At any moment, your baseball career could end. Just be prepared for the moment it does, and you’ll be fine.”
“Do you think…do you think I can make it out of the minors? Can I get to the Show?”
“Yes.” He smiled even brighter. “I’ve never missed a game, and you’re better than you realize. You have doubts?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. I mean a lot of guys toil away for decades in AAA. The chance to play in the Majors is slim. I’d do anything to get there.”
“Sounds logical.” Monroe nodded. “But sometimes life requires us to be illogical. You’ve got the skills. You just need the same determination you used to get the grade you earned. But you must be prepared if you don’t make it. And you’re right. The percentage of guys who do against guys who don’t…” Monroe tapped the table. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got more finals to grade. Good luck, Mr. Betts.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I hurried out of his tiny office and closed the door quietly behind me. The fresh scent of disinfectant washed away the musty books from Monroe’s world. I replayed the conversation in my mind as I left the building and headed back toward the dorms. It was almost four thirty when my stomach growled. The too-greasy burger had stolen my appetite, but it was back tenfold. As soon as I got to my room, I grabbed a protein bar from my desk and a bottle of water from the fridge. My phone vibrated in my pocket as I finished the last chug of water.
What did Monroe want?
I read the text after fishing my phone out.
You’re fired.
I smiled as I hit send, knowing she’d take it the wrong way.
What? Don’t tell me you failed.
How about I tell you over dinner?
Full Count (Westland University) Page 17