Come Back to the Ballpark, Maisy Gray

by Cynthia Tennent

  “You are assuming there is some sort of love triangle going on between Maisy, me, and Kevin based on that?”

  “You and Miss Gray spent a lot of time together that weekend.”

  Jesus. Did they have a monitor on him? Since when did anyone care what he did in his personal life?

  “I have sources who say you two were a thing. Those same sources say you’ve been out of sorts since she left.”

  Sources? Shit. Of course that was where Fuzzy got his information. Half the office had heard the argument between Sam and Maisy the day after the gala. Joanie had barely talked to Sam for days after that. When he’d confronted her about her attitude, she’d pursed her lips and said she would do her job regardless of how he’d treated Maisy. He had asked why she assumed it was Sam who had been the bad guy. She had mumbled something about men and their pride.

  “This damn organization needs to learn to cut out the gossip and get back to baseball.” Sam didn’t realize he was clutching the desk until Fuzzy smiled and nodded at his white knuckles.

  He let go and sank back in his chair.

  “My job is to manage the team,” Fuzzy explained. “Not you. But something odd is in the air and I don’t like the feel of it. Get down to the clubhouse and work out what you need to with Halderman. And then get yourself over to that little town at the top of the state and tell that girl you’re sorry. I don’t believe in luck. But I do believe in karma.”

  Great. Now his manager was into philosophy. Sam couldn’t help asking the question, though. “What’s the difference?”

  “Good luck is random. Good karma comes when you make it happen.” Fuzzy patted the armrest twice and said, “Glad we could have this conversation.”

  Sam stopped him before he left his office. “When did you get so goddamn intuitive, Fuzzy?”

  The old man’s eyes were sparkling. “Many years of wisdom, a wife with six senses, and four daughters.”

  That explained it. Fuzzy was a pushover when it came to his girls. They were grown and had kids of their own. Earlier in the summer he had shown Sam pictures of his oldest grandson’s high school graduation. It must be nice to have a family like that. Sam couldn’t imagine how Fuzzy found time for them and still managed a baseball team, though.

  ***

  Good luck versus karma. Sam actually looked them up, and damn if Fuzzy wasn’t right. Everybody in Indianapolis was running around talking about the amazing good-luck season the Turbos were having, and the fact that they were within arm’s reach of clinching the pennant. But it seemed like no one was doing anything to keep the good karma going except Sam. He was exhausted from it.

  A week after Fuzzy visited his office, Sam traded his weak-hitting center fielder, Jed Freemont, and dumped a pinch hitter, Jorge Carras, from the roster. He brought up a promising hitter from Tampa Bay and signed a relief pitcher from the Orioles. He was a solid mid-game relief pitcher that they needed. One who would last multiple innings until they brought in the closer.

  When the new team members arrived, Sam and Zoom were on hand for their first practice. The bullpen was a sea of activity. The media came out to film the new players. Zoom was yukking it up with a gaggle of reporters on the sideline, while Fuzzy was doing his best to avoid the press.

  Several Turbos gathered near the dugout. Sam did a double take when he realized who stood in the middle of the crowd. Tristan. It was an unusual sight. Tristan wasn’t the kind of guy who hung out with the players. He was much more likely to be found at his computer running numbers or talking with Joanie.

  Blake Alokar was showing off his latest gold necklace and Tristan and the others were admiring it. Romeo Lopez rolled up his sleeve to show off some sort of pink bracelet. Jewelry on ballplayers. Sam shook his head and wondered if the trend would ever end. He started toward them and Blake quickly tucked his necklace in his shirt.

  “Hi, Sam,” Tristan said. Blake and the other players stepped toward the batting cage, leaving Sam and Tristan alone.

  “I didn’t mean to break up the conversation.” It wasn’t his place to question personal relationships, but when it came to his front-office staff, he couldn’t help being curious. “I don’t see you out here during practice very often.”

  Tristan’s answer was smooth. “Some of the guys and I have been working on strategies to improve their performance. I’m keeping track of them.”

  Strange. Tristan had very little knowledge of the physical aspect of baseball. Any performance advice was for Fuzzy and the coaches to work on.

  “Anything you can share?” Sam asked.

  “Not yet.”

  Sam spotted Kevin Halderman sitting in the dugout. Visions of him and Maisy on the dance floor still popped into his head at random times — like now. He turned back to the batting cage and patted his pocket absently.

  “Here.” Tristan offered him a piece of his own brand of gum.

  “Since when do you chew sugarless gum?”

  “Gum relieves anxiety,” Tristan said, nodding toward the dugout, his meaning clear.

  “I’m not nervous about anything.” He popped the gum in his mouth.

  Tristan raised an eyebrow. “You know, only two percent of the married population were once childhood sweethearts.”

  Shit. First Fuzzy and now Tristan? Everyone suddenly wanted to talk about romance. Maybe they should open an advice booth in left field.

  “Do you know the top two predictors of a relationship’s success?” Tristan asked, his gaze turned back to the batter’s cage.

  “I don’t give a crap—”

  “Trust is number one. Cheaters don’t last.”

  Sam chewed his gum faster. Looked like ole Kevin was never going to win the long game with Maisy.

  “You’re a fountain of wisdom, kid.”

  Tristan gave a long, labored breath. “You hired me for statistics and data analysis. I figured I’d give you your money’s worth.”

  “Thanks for the bargain. I had no idea you were such an expert on people,” Sam drawled.

  “I may be a math nerd, but I’m not a robot.”

  “We’ll have to go out for a beer sometime and share our feelings.”

  Tristan sniffed. “In case you’re curious, the second factor in relationship success is how much people know about each other. Big things and little things, like favorite food and drinks. For example, I like wine, not beer.”

  “I’ll make sure to remember that on your birthday.”

  Sam checked the time. He had work to do. Time to get back to his office. This week’s sessions of Karma for Singles and Relationships 101 from Fuzzy and Tristan were over.

  “Hey, Hunter,” Kevin said, walking up from the dugout, clutching a book. “Hey, Tristan.”

  Sam sighed. He was bound to run into Kevin sooner or later. He tilted his head sideways to read the title in Kevin’s hands. “Tom Sawyer?” At least he’d moved on a few grades.

  “Yeah. But I don’t get it.”

  Tristan snickered and walked toward the batting cage, leaving him alone with Kevin.

  “What don’t you get?”

  Kevin held up the book. “The girl, Becky, rips her teacher’s book. And Tom Sawyer takes the blame.”

  It had been a while since Sam had read Mark Twain. “What’s the problem?”

  Kevin shook his head. “Why would he do that? He gets whipped by the teacher over her mistake.”

  Sam stared at Kevin’s profile. Kevin had relied way too long on good looks and a better arm. Someday they would both disappear.

  “Think about it, Halderman.” Doling out advice seemed to be the thing these days. He might as well do his part. “What does Tom Sawyer get out of sacrificing himself for Becky?”

  Kevin gazed out at left field with an alarmingly vacant expression.

  Forget it. It wasn’t worth explaining. “Let me ask you some
thing, Halderman.”

  “Huh,” Kevin said, still considering Tom and Becky.

  “You and Maisy, what’s going on with you two?” There. He had finally asked the question that had been plaguing him for weeks. Even though Maisy had indicated it was all over with Kevin when she barged into Sam’s office after the gala, he was curious about Kevin’s perspective.

  Kevin’s mouth turned down. “She doesn’t seem interested. Something about being a different person. Hell, I think she seems the same. She’s better, actually. Did you see how hot she was at the gala? That dress color made her look naked.”

  Sam clenched his fist. “What about Alexa?”

  “She’s all mad at me. She says I tried to dump her.”

  “Well, you were dancing with Maisy. You talked to her all night.”

  Kevin’s mouth dropped open as if he couldn’t believe Sam was so stupid. “She’s my good-luck charm, man. I had to be with Maisy. I’ll lose if I’m not. I was going downhill ever since she, I mean I— Alexa…”

  “You mean you haven’t played as well since you dumped Maisy?”

  “Well, yeah. It’s not the same. Alexa doesn’t cook for me, and she doesn’t like to come to my games and cheer me on.”

  Kevin was looking like a twelve-year-old who missed his cookies and milk. The kid was seriously confused about the difference between a girlfriend and a mother.

  Back to the point of this conversation. “You’re not with Maisy now. And you won the other night in Pittsburgh when she wasn’t even in the stadium.”

  “That’s ‘cause…” He ran a finger inside his shirt and looked back at Tristan, who was talking to the shortstop. “Never mind.”

  Sam lowered his voice so Tristan wouldn’t hear. “Just curious, Halderman. What is Maisy’s favorite drink?”

  Kevin looked down at the book. “I don’t know. Some kind of healthy thing probably. A smoothie or tea.”

  “I mean alcohol.”

  “Beer? Why is it so important?” Kevin’s eyes lit up. “Is she coming back to the ballpark?”

  “No,” Sam said firmly.

  They were interrupted by Charlie Zumaeta’s booming voice. “Just the two people I want to see.”

  Zoom walked across the infield, followed by Fuzzy, who rolled his eyes when he saw the book in Kevin’s hand.

  “I’m delivering my check for school supplies to that school in your hometown next Friday, Halderman. Your agent said you could come with me. You can throw balls with the kids. We’ll make it a whole community-outreach thing. It’ll be great for the team.”

  Kevin gazed doubtfully at the dirt. “I don’t know. I’m not great with kids.”

  Zoom scratched his head. “What? It’s your hometown, son. Kids are like apple pie and the American flag. These are the kinds of events that baseball players are made for. Besides, you’ve done PR at the children’s hospital and autograph day with the team before.”

  Kevin shifted his weight. “Yeah, but not on my own. I don’t always understand kids. Besides, I pitch against Chicago that Saturday. Every game is super important now.”

  “Damn right!” Zoom stood straighter. Sam could swear there was something behind the way he was pressuring Halderman. It made his skin crawl.

  When he’d told Zoom Maisy had left town, he hadn’t been happy. The fans hadn’t protested much because the team was still winning. But rumblings of needing her at the ballpark for the all-important games in the next few weeks had started. Sam was worried that Zoom was going to put more pressure on Maisy to come to another game.

  Zoom measured Kevin from head to toe. “Son, who’s paying your salary?”

  “My agent?” Kevin was taken aback. “Oh. You.”

  Zoom nodded slowly. “That’s right. I’m the one running this show. If you can’t make it Friday, then get out there Thursday and take some pictures for our social media campaign. I want your mug on the front page of the sports section as you hug kids and show them your glove. You hear me?”

  “That means I’ve gotta see my mother,” he mumbled under his breath. Sam didn’t blame him. After seeing Kevin’s mother at the Grays’, he was beginning to think he needed to include some counseling in Kevin’s benefits package, too. That and remedial reading.

  Zoom wasn’t done. “Hunter, make sure Halderman gets out there.”

  “Yes, sir.” His response was automatic. When had he become such a kiss-ass?

  Fuzzy’s lips curled up. The love triangle he’d hinted at last week was rearing its ugly face. The old man was loving this.

  “You’ve already been out there to that little town. Comeagain, is it?” Zoom asked. Before Sam could correct him, he added, “You’re getting a warped view dealing with numbers and contracts all day, Hunter. Time to think about our fans. It’s the least you can do for this team. No excuses.”

  Zoom rejoined the throng of reporters and Sam felt a new level of resentment. Sam had been the one making deals happen since the season started. He barely had time to eat meals, much less schmooze with Zoom and his friends in the owner’s suite. He had busted his ass negotiating the trade that was supposed to get four players for Kevin Halderman. When that had fallen through and the news of Maisy Gray and her magic wand of luckiness entered the city, it had been Sam who had gone to the Grays’ farm to get Maisy back. Hell. He had broken his toe trying to get Maisy to come to the ballpark.

  Then he had fallen for her.

  Then he had given her up.

  There wasn’t an hour of the day that went by when he didn’t think about Maisy. She was brave and funny and gorgeous and full of energy. And her favorite drink was tequila. Kevin had no clue at all. She loved helping people. Sam knew that much about her. If they were two normal people with no connections to baseball, their relationship would have stood a chance.

  Zoom was wrong. Sam had sacrificed plenty for the Turbos. And he was beginning to wonder if any of it was worth it.

  Tristan was back by his side, punching away at his phone.

  “Any other little statistical gems, kid?” He meant to be sarcastic, but his tone was softer. Shit. Maybe he should see a real therapist.

  “Successful couples are good at conflict resolution. They forgive, and they work out their differences instead of running away or giving up.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Maisy’s students squirmed by the door, waiting to walk to art class. They were riled up today, as if it were a Friday. She placed a hand on one girl’s shoulder to get her to lower her voice. She turned off the light and waited for the kids at the end of the line to quiet down. Classroom management was something they’d never taught her when she studied education in college. It had taken years for Maisy to figure out simple tricks that didn’t involve all-out yelling.

  Once her class was ready, she nodded to the young man in front, who was going to be taller than she was by the end of the year. “All right, David, you can lead the line.” David was the first one to get distracted and wander from the class. Ironically, he did best at the front of a line, proud when given the responsibility.

  Maisy left her students in the second-floor art room, checked in with the reading specialist to discuss a student, and hurried back to her classroom. With any luck, she could finish grading this morning’s math quiz so she could hand it back at the end of the day.

  When she reached her classroom, she was surprised to see the principal, Dr. Harding, standing in her doorway, an unusually wide smile plastered on her face.

  “Maisy, you have a visitor.”

  Kevin was standing under the poster of Andrew Luck reading Hatchet. What a contrast. Andrew Luck was a Stanford grad, an athlete who didn’t have to be told to read. A man who had an actual book club.

  “Hey, Maisy.” Kevin waved at her as if they were ten years old again, getting ready to sit down on the carpet.

  “Kevin, what
are you doing here?”

  Kevin put his hands in his pockets. “They wanted to get a video of me throwing a ball with a few kids and I can’t do it tomorrow. My agent and the photographer are out with the camera crew looking for the best angles on the playground.”

  Maisy clenched her teeth. “I’ve got to grade a quiz by the end of the day, Kevin. I don’t have time for this—”

  Dr. Harding readjusted her collar. “Teachers. Always trying to get a little work in when the kids are out of the room. Maisy is very dedicated. But what’s a little test to having a real baseball player in the building? Maisy can put it off until next week.” She turned her back on Kevin and widened her eyes at Maisy. “Right, Maisy?”

  Maisy let a frustrated puff of air escape her lips and prepared to give in.

  “Maybe we should wait until school is out.”

  Maisy twisted around to see Sam leaning against her desk, his legs casually crossed in front of him. He wore his power clothes again. Lightweight gray dress pants, a light blue shirt, and a navy sports coat.

  “You!” Dammit. She hated how the shirt set off his eyes.

  Dr. Harding made a tittering sound of distress. “These two gentlemen arrived within ten minutes of each other. Aren’t we lucky to have them here, Maisy? You’ve met Mr. Hunter, right?”

  “We know each other,” she said.

  The innuendo was lost on the principal and Kevin. Not Sam. Those blue eyes sparkled like the devil and made her regret she said anything.

  Sam nodded at the clock. “So, the end of the school day is in an hour and a half, right?”

  “It is. But if you two gentlemen need to hit the road, we can certainly accommodate you. I can get a sub up here to help Maisy,” Dr. Harding said.

  Sam lifted his shoulders. “I’m in no rush. Are you, Kevin?”

  Kevin was looking at the poster above his head. “As long as I can get out of here in time to get back to Indianapolis, I’m good.”

  Maisy couldn’t resist. “Not going to visit your mother, Kevin?”

  Dr. Harding spoke up. “Oh, she’s in my book club. I’ll let her know you surprised us today. She’ll be so happy!” She rushed out of the room.