“A gift. You think you can buy your way out of trouble?”
He lowered his sunglasses and peered over the tops with bloodshot eyes. “Everywhere except on the pitcher’s mound, yes. My first thought was my standard apology, lingerie and flowers, but Ellington—my manager—talked me out of that.”
Mayor Trent made a slight choking sound, making Sadie wonder if she’d gotten an antacid stuck in her throat.
“So, what would placate the Can the Catfish crew?” Crush asked. “A new church organ? A shrine to the Unknown Virgin? A quilting bee?”
“Yes!” The mayor came to her feet, her pink silk blouse rustling. “I’m sure the church ladies, as you refer to them, would love it if you and your players contributed to their latest quilting project. It’s going to be auctioned off, with all proceeds going to needy children. Your participation would be most welcome.”
Was that a look of shame on Taylor’s face? Impossible. No, it must be a smirk. “I’ll consider it,” he said. “Now for my second problem. Why is Dean Wade leaving messages on my home phone?”
Sadie froze, and Mayor Trent went very still. Hadn’t she mentioned something about Dean Wade running for mayor? “As you know, Dean Wade is a prominent local resident from one of the founding families of Kilby. He’s a respected business and family man. As to why he’s calling you, how could I possibly know that?”
“Hmm.” Taylor yawned and replaced his sunglasses. “I detest local politics. If he’s calling for my support in the next mayoral campaign, he’s probably wasting his time. I’m happy enough with our current mayor. Or I would be if she liked me better.”
He ambled out of the office then, leaving electric silence in his wake. Sadie ran through all the implications of what Crush had said. Obviously, Dean Wade was serious about running for mayor, if he was going to the trouble of courting Crush’s support. No one could miss the hidden threat in his last statement. If Mayor Trent didn’t warm up to him, he might actually support Dean Wade.
With the Wade family and Crush Taylor lined up against her, Sadie knew that Mayor Trent couldn’t afford to keep her on her staff. She would be a terrible liability.
“I should quit.”
The mayor rounded on her. “Don’t you dare,” she said fiercely. No one would see her as an ice queen now. “Crush Taylor can kiss my ass. So can the Wades.”
“I didn’t know she had it in her.” Caleb smiled sleepily from under the corded forearm that shielded his eyes. A blanket stretched beneath them, sunshine caressed them from above. He’d taken her to the wooded Kilby State Park for a morning picnic before he had to report to the ballpark. The cheerful twittering of birdsong made it seem as if the air itself smiled on them.
“I’m nothing but bad news for her,” said Sadie miserably. “And for you. Crush said I’m a distraction.”
“Then he hasn’t been looking at my stats.”
“And he also said,” this was the part she couldn’t stop thinking about, “that you might get called up to the Friars soon.”
All signs of sleepiness vanished. Caleb sat upright, pulling her along with him. “What are you talking about?”
She blinked at him, the sun forming a halo behind his head. “I thought you knew. He said that Ian Sullivan’s been having elbow pain.”
“Sullivan.” Caleb ran a hand through his hair, then grabbed a water bottle and took a long swig. “He’s been pitching okay, but they’ve been pulling him early.”
“So it’s not common knowledge?” Her heart sank. What if she’d just spilled some sort of Friars state secret?
“No, but it makes sense.” With a sudden movement, he shifted onto his knees. A wild light burned in his eyes. “This could be my chance, Sadie. I’ve been solid for the last few weeks. I’ve even been hitting okay. I’ve worked through whatever fucked-up thing was going on in my head.”
“What was it?”
“No idea. That doesn’t matter now. I might be going back. Going back, Sadie! Back to the big leagues!”
She stretched her mouth into a wide smile, trying like hell to look happy for him. “That’s fantastic!”
He gripped her upper arms. “Did he say what kind of pain Sullivan had? Sharp, intermittent pain, or more of a constant ache?”
“Geez, Caleb, he didn’t get that detailed about it.” She ducked under his arms and crawled across the blanket toward the picnic basket she’d picked up at the thrift store. Time to start packing up to go. But a warm hand on her waist pulled her back against his firm body.
“Sorry. I just want to know what he’s dealing with. Elbow problems are rough for a pitcher. Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” Now wasn’t that the truth. Caleb would be off conquering the baseball world, while she’d still be here, typing memos for the mayor and waiting for Hamilton’s next move.
“Wrong. You’re coming with me.” He shifted her into a sort of dip, as if they were spinning across a dance floor instead of lounging on a blanket. Under her back, his arms felt like steel rods, while his strong thighs supported her butt. The amount of sheer strength surrounding her made her want to swoon. But his words didn’t make any sense.
“Excuse me?”
“You know I don’t gamble, but if I did, I’d bet you a thousand bucks San Diego has a law school.”
Her mouth dropped open. “It’s going to take me years to save enough money for law school.”
“Babe, you’re with me now. If you want to go to law school, you go to law school. If Tessa wants to go to med school, she goes to med school. If the twins want karate lessons, they get them.”
She pushed at his chest. “I couldn’t take your money. Besides, you can’t possibly afford all that.”
“Well, not yet,” he admitted. “I have two more years on this contract. I have to prove myself before that two years is up, so we can go into free agent negotiations. But I still have something left from my signing bonus. I invested a lot of it, and the fund’s been doing well.”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s your money.”
“Sweetheart.” He put a finger under her chin and lifted it so she couldn’t escape his gaze. “What do you think we’re doing here?”
She chewed on her lower lip. “We’re hanging out. Getting to know each other. Having sex.”
“Having great sex.”
“Yes. But Caleb . . .” She fell silent again, then rolled off him. She stood up and brushed bits of grass off her shorts. “Do you ever feel like it isn’t quite . . . real? Like we’re in this romantic, beautiful bubble just floating through the air.” She waved at the lovely birch trees arching overhead. “The bubble’s going to bump into a tree or something.”
“In your scenario, what’s the tree? The fact that I’m a ballplayer who’s probably—hopefully—going to leave town?”
“Maybe.” She could think of so many other potential “trees,” but that was an obvious one.
“I thought you wanted to leave Kilby.”
“I do want to leave Kilby. I mean, I love Kilby. It’s the only place I’ve ever lived. But with the Wades running things the way they do . . . I definitely want to get out of here, as long as my mother can handle it. She’s been doing a lot better lately, but I still worry about her. But Caleb, it’s not about where I go. It’s about proving myself, proving I’m worth something.”
“You’re worth everything. Come here.” He yanked her on top of him, making her huff in surprise. “I need you with me,” he told her, fire burning deep in his eyes. “I can count my true friends on the fingers of one hand. But the ones I let inside . . . I’d die for them. I need you, Sadie. You make everything sparkle. You make me forget all the crap going on. I feel like Superman when I’m with you. I wish you could come on this road trip. God, I’m going to miss you.”
And he pulled her into one of those all-consuming kisses that made her forget her own name.
But the Wade family would not forget her name, or the hard facts of her life. The next day a FedEx message arrive
d from Hamilton. It was addressed to “Slutty Merritt.”
Her mother hovered over her shoulder as she debated whether to open it or burn it in the backyard burn barrel.
“It could be important,” her mother said anxiously. “It looks so official.”
Sadie tugged open the tab, feeling as if she was letting an evil genie out of its hiding place.
A bingo card dropped into her palm.
Her mother took the card from her suddenly boneless hand and puzzled over it, turning it this way and that, looking for the usual nasty message.
“This is just so very odd. We should call the police,” she said fearfully.
“I don’t think sending someone a bingo card is illegal. And have you forgotten who the police chief is?”
“Maybe it’s a mistake. It must be a mistake, what could it even mean?”
But Sadie got the message just fine. Somehow Hamilton had figured out that Bingo Hartwell was Caleb’s father. And if she didn’t cut things off with him, the Wades would do something with that information.
She shut herself into her room, lay on her back and let her miserable thoughts go in circles along with the ceiling fan.
Hamilton had won. Again. She couldn’t allow something bad to happen to Caleb because of her. If everyone knew that Bingo was his father, the press would show up, asking questions about him. Everyone in the stands would be talking about it. Opposing players would use it to rattle him. Opposing fans might hang banners in the stands making fun of the player with the ex-con dad. It would be a huge distraction from his game, just when he was getting his rhythm back.
Caleb trusted her enough to consider her one of his inner circle. She had to protect him, even if it cost her. She didn’t even want to tell him about the bingo card, because he might go after Hamilton and make things worse. When he got back from the Catfish road trip, she’d figure out how to explain it, and maybe they could find a way to continue seeing each other.
So even though it felt like ripping her own heart out, she avoided Caleb’s phone calls while he was away. She checked his schedule and made sure to return his calls when he was safely in the dugout, where no cell phones were allowed.
She delivered her own message to Hamilton, by way of Donna. Her best friend refused to let her get anywhere near Hamilton. Instead, she collared him at the Kilby Country Club, where she was taking the Shark to baby swimming lessons. The message was simple: “You win.” Donna added her own flourish by tacking on several curse words.
“Sweetie, I think you’re making a huge mistake,” she told Sadie after the deed was done. “It’s like giving in to terrorists. He’ll think he can get anything he wants.”
“He can get anything he wants,” Sadie said dully.
“Except you.”
“Well, not anymore.”
“No wonder it’s driving him crazy.”
Every night during the Catfish road trip, Sadie listened to the local news report on the doings of the team. Trevor Stark was averaging two home runs a game, which was phenomenal. Off the field, his behavior was outrageous. He’d become a heartthrob across the state of Texas and beyond. Each town he went to, he’d appear on the local radio station and get girls to compete for a date with him. Trouble came when it turned out one of the winning girls was underage.
Luckily for the Catfish—not so luckily for the Can the Catfish petition—Trevor had figured it out pretty quickly and called her parents. He even managed to come out of it looking vaguely heroic.
In El Paso, Mike Solo and the entire infield entered a karaoke competition. They won it all with their sexed-up version of “Get It On.” Paramedics had to be called to tend to three girls who fainted in the audience.
Jim Lieberman became briefly famous when he rescued a girl in Albuquerque from a rabid dog. Sadly, he got bitten during the struggle and fainted. When he came to, he was in a hospital bed, foaming at the mouth. Or at least he thought he was. Actually he was in the visitor’s clubhouse, on a cot, with shaving cream dripping off his face and the Catfish laughing their asses off.
His reaction made every blooper sports show in the country. But he did get a date out of it, with the rescued girl.
The big news was Caleb’s consistent, relentless performance. Just a matter of time, everyone said. Some were even placing bets on when he’d get called up.
Sadie cried herself to sleep every night of that road trip.
Chapter 18
WHEN THE CATFISH returned to Kilby, Caleb held onto a slim hope that Sadie planned to surprise him at the ballpark. She’d be waiting in her little Corolla to pick him up and whisk him off to Lake McGee or maybe a quiet hotel room where they could reunite properly. But the crowd in the parking lot didn’t include any dark-haired, fire-eyed beauties. Nor did it include Bingo. Dispirited, he got into his Jeep and drove back to his apartment.
Bingo had left him a note: Got a job! You can find me at the Sacred Grounds Café if you need me. Your mail is on the table.
He flipped through it—maybe Sadie had left him a letter.
Nothing.
He wanted to pour his frustration into something, so he went after the supermarket circular and shredded it like confetti. Maybe Sadie didn’t want him anymore. Maybe she’d been trying to break up with him at that last picnic and he’d been too dense to see it. That whole “bubble crashing into a tree” shit. Maybe they’d crashed right into it while he’d been away on his road trip. Bam.
He moved on from the circular to his bank statement. That got torn into shreds too, as did a notice from the landlord about a painting schedule. When most of his mail lay in crumpled scraps, he went into the bathroom, stripped off his clothes and took refuge in a shower. As the hot water pelted onto his back, his anger began to recede.
This was Sadie, not just any girl. Sadie was honest, intelligent, caring, and . . . wounded. She was just as wary as he was, and she had good reason too.
Something was going on. Now that he’d gotten his ego out of the way, he could see it. But how could he figure it out if she wouldn’t talk to him? Then inspiration struck. Her friend, Donna. Mike had gotten her number, hadn’t he?
Ten minutes later he was chasing down Donna at the playground. She waved when she saw him, barely pausing as she chased a gleeful little toddler across the woodchip-covered surface. The kid had no sense of direction, and seemed to be magnetically attracted to the protruding corners of the playground equipment.
“I have to watch him every second, so don’t take it personally if I never look you in the eye,” she warned him. “If this kid doesn’t grow up to be a soccer player or something, I’ll eat my cowboy hat. Or at least a cowboy.”
“Is he always like this?”
“The Shark? Oh, he’s worse at bedtime. I’ve clocked him at a hundred miles an hour running from his baby toothbrush . . . So, I suppose you’re here about Sadie.”
“She won’t return my calls. Or rather, she returns them but never when I can actually talk to her. I know something’s wrong.”
Donna lunged forward to keep the Shark from bonking his little body on the frame of the swing. She plucked him into the air, his little legs wriggling a mile a minute. “Don’t make me put you in the backpack, little motor man.” The boy squirmed as she squished her nose into his chubby neck. Then she plopped him down. He immediately crawled toward Caleb and wrapped his arms around his leg.
Caleb laughed and lifted his leg a few inches off the ground, giving the little guy a ride that made him shriek with joy. He went up and down a few times, until it seemed the boy’s grip was slipping, then he carefully set him on the ground. The Shark plopped onto his butt and dug his hands into the wood chips.
Caleb glanced up to find Donna watching him with an odd expression.
“You’re a good guy, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know about that,” he answered uncomfortably. “Pretty average, I guess.” And that would be generous, in his opinion. After all, he’d grown up with a con man. How good could he b
e?
“I’m not supposed to say anything, but I’m going to. Because Sadie is my best friend in the world, besides the Shark, and he’s useless when it comes to female conversation.”
A strange combination of triumph and dread tightened Caleb’s gut. “I knew something was going on. What is it?”
“Hamilton Wade sent Sadie a bingo card. I don’t know what it means—she wouldn’t tell me—but she asked me to tell him that ‘he won.’ That’s all I know. Well, and that she hasn’t figured out how to tell you and that she cries every night.”
Caleb’s fists clenched, once, twice. Rage worthy of the Incredible Hulk rushed through his veins. “I’m going to beat that guy into next year.”
She snagged the back of his T-shirt, twisting it in her fist. “Don’t be an idiot. I didn’t tell you this so you could go beat someone’s brains out. Sadie’s trying to protect you from the Wades. She’ll be ten times more upset if you get hurt. And that family, they’re like an old-style western gang or something. They don’t know how to let things go.”
“I don’t either,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Ask anyone.”
She wrapped the T-shirt even harder around her wrist. “I’m not going to let you go until you think of a better way to handle this. A way that won’t hurt Sadie. She’s been through enough.”
He stared at her, wheels turning. Donna met his gaze for about two whole seconds before the Shark launched himself across the playground in a rapid crablike crawl. “You’d better go after him,” Caleb said with a slow smile. “He’s headed right for that slide. The one with the kids coming out like bullets.”
She glared at him and edged toward the Shark, trying to pull Caleb along with her. Instead, he ripped off his T-shirt, freeing himself from her grasp and making her stumble. “You are a low-down scoundrel.”
He strode off toward his Jeep. “Now that’s a little more accurate,” he called back to her. “But you have a point about not hurting Sadie. I’ll get back to you.”
Later, he called her again. “Tell Sadie I’m taking care of the situation and she can read about it in tomorrow’s edition of the Kilby Press-Herald.”
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