Slowly, Tyler dragged his attention from me to Kelton. “Hey, dude.” He let go of me.
What the heck just happened? “What’s he doing here?” I asked, trying to shake the haze from my head.
“I asked him and Kross to join us this morning. They’re both vying for a position on the team. I thought they could help—you can throw pitches, they can practice their batting and fielding.”
“Yeah, girl. We’d like to see what all the fuss is about. Tyler seems to think you’re great. Me, I don’t believe it,” Kelton said.
I narrowed my eyes. What an ass.
“Hey, don’t get your panties in a wad. I’m just saying,” he rasped as he put a blue ball cap on backwards.
Images of me strangling Kelton popped into my brain. I’d been hanging out with boys my entire life. I even put up with a lot of crap from the team back in California, but Kelton was one for the books. Why he got under my skin more than anyone was beyond me. Or maybe I knew, and I didn’t want to admit it. After all, he sounded just like Kade. It was clear that Kade and Kelton were related. Granted, all the Maxwell brothers were gorgeous, but looks only went so far. Kade had a quiet intensity about him. He gave me the impression he fought hard and loved harder.
“Where’s Kody? Doesn’t he play?” I asked.
“Not this year.” Kelton tossed his bag on the ground near the backstop. “He’s ‘pursuing other interests.’”
Kelton’s lookalike brother strode over from the dugout, tall and muscular. Side by side, I could see that he had bulkier biceps than Kelton.
“This is my brother, Kross.”
I flicked my head at him. “What’s up?”
“Well, now. I’ve heard so many things about you,” Kross drawled in the same voice as Kelton. His blue eyes seemed a little darker than his brother’s.
I rolled my eyes. “Did you now?” At this moment, I realized that Kody had a slightly lower pitch to his tone than these two brothers.
“When I first saw you in psychology I didn’t agree with Kade. I only saw the back of your head. Up close, though, Kade was right. You are freaking hot,” Kross said as he sized me up like I was some piece of meat.
A faint buzzing whirred in my head. “Is that how you two pick up girls? By looking at them as if you’re starving?”
“It works,” Kelton said nonchalantly, like I should know this.
“You must pick up tramps, then.”
“Lacey?” Tyler snapped.
“What? I’m tired of these two morons talking to me like I’m some prize that they have to compete for. Their innuendos are disgusting.”
“Lacey,” Kross said, slipping his sports bag from his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m not a jackass like my brother Kelton here can be.” Unlike Kelton’s and Kade’s shaggy crops, Kross’s black hair was cut short and shaved on the sides.
I was thankful for the different hairstyles. Plus it also helped that Kelton was wearing black track pants, and Kross wore a pair of gray wind pants. At least I could tell these two apart. “Could’ve fooled me,” I said.
“Hey, whose side you on, bro?” Kelton demanded.
“Shut up, man.” Kross whirled on his brother. “If Dad heard the way you talk to some girls, he’d tan your hide. If Kade heard it, you know he wouldn’t hesitate to go a few rounds in the ring.” Turning his attention back to me, he smoothed his hand over his head. “Forgive us—or at least me. There’s no excuse for his behavior.”
“I accept your apology, Kross. Maybe there is hope for some of you.” I glowered at Kelton.
He batted his long lashes my way. “I’m not changing who I am, so get over it,” he said.
“Whatever. Just remember I can dish it out too,” I countered. “I have a mean right hook. Just ask Kade.”
Tyler pushed Kelton. “Get out to shortstop.”
“Anytime, girl. The ring awaits.” He stalked off to take his place at shortstop with his glove in his hand.
I had no idea what he meant by “ring.” Given that Kross referred to something similar, I guessed he meant a boxing ring. It might be fun to box with one of these guys.
“Lacey, take the mound,” Tyler said with a little irritation in his tone. “Kross, why don’t you catch for now?”
Kross donned a catcher’s mitt and ball cap then got a ball out of the bucket.
“Take a few warm-up pitches and loosen your arm,” Tyler said as he grabbed a bat out of his bag near the backstop.
I got my glove then trotted to the mound. Loosening up, I threw the ball lightly into Kross’s glove. After a few warm-up pitches, I adjusted my stance on the mound, placing both feet on the rubber. I held my glove chest high with my right hand inside, gripping the seams of the baseball. I took a small step back, preparing for my windup. In one fluid motion, I raised my left knee in a high kick, pivoted my right foot and threw the ball, hitting Kross’s glove dead on with a thud.
“Holy flippin’ crap,” Kelton said from behind me at shortstop.
Kross whistled.
I went through the same moves again. Pitching was a unique combination of many movements, and all of them needed to be in sync to deliver the perfect pitch. If the moves were fluid and performed correctly, then I could add velocity to my fastball. My mind and body weren’t quite in sync yet to throw the perfect pitch. I had to remember to relax. Pitching always reminded me of dancing.
My parents had insisted that all of us kids take ballroom dancing at an early age. They believed that learning dance moves helped to learn balance and coordination. My mom had said it instilled confidence and grace, which was what every girl needed to learn. I’d hated ballroom dancing. It interfered with baseball on Saturday mornings. But as I got better at pitching, I thanked my parents for forcing me to dance with boys. The results had helped me to gain the stamina needed for pitching.
I threw a few more fastballs and curveballs.
“Did I tell you that I love you?” Kelton teased from behind me. “So I take back what I said. Are you sure you’re a girl?”
I turned. “You realize you just said you love me but doubt that I’m a girl. Is there something you’d like to share?” I asked, smiling the whole time.
He flipped me the finger. Kross and Tyler laughed.
Maybe it wasn’t an apology, but it didn’t matter. Kelton and I were going to have a very tense friendship. Sometimes guys showed how they felt about girls in different ways and Kelton’s way, I was starting to see, was sarcasm. I could handle him. After all, I was just as feisty.
We practiced for over two hours. I pitched, and each of them took turns batting. Kross struck out. Kelton hit my fastball into the outfield. Tyler hit a homerun off my slider. I still had work to do on that pitch. Then I played shortstop and outfield. Pitching wasn’t my only position. I’d learn to play just about every one, growing up. I’d even played left field for a women’s softball team when I was twelve. I only settled on pitching because the ability to strike out a batter gave me a high—when the batter would swing, then realize he’d swung at nothing.
When we decided to call it quits, I looked around. Until that moment I hadn’t seen the audience who had gathered. A group of boys sat in the front row of the stands along the first base line. Several girls congregated in seats behind the dugout on the third base side. I laughed as we packed up.
“What’s so funny?” Kross asked.
“I’m always amazed at the number of girls you guys seem to draw. It’s like they found out some hot music group was down on the field, so they dressed up and came down to get an autograph or something.” I couldn’t blame them for their interest in hot guys. But surely they must have other things to do on a Saturday morning.
Kross laughed, as did Kelton. Tyler, however, remained straight-faced. Maybe he was used to all the attention.
> “It’s flattering, but I try to ignore them.” Kross handed me a Gatorade out of his bag.
“Wow, thanks.” I’d brought water, but Gatorade was way better, especially since it was the orange flavor.
“I am a nice guy.”
Kelton stuck his finger in his mouth as though he were forcing himself to puke.
“Shut up.” Kross glared at his brother.
Kelton picked up his sports bag. “Meet you at the car, bro. I have a fan base to attend to. Lacey, nice job, girl. You’re ready. Tyler, later, dude.” Then he swaggered into the crowd of girls who were calling his name.
“Close your mouth, Lacey,” Kross said, tapping my chin. “My brother may be an ass most of the time, but he knows when to give a compliment. And he’s right. You’re amazing. Tyler was right too. I’ve never seen a girl who can pitch like that. How fast is your fastball?”
“She throws at about seventy miles per hour,” Tyler said as he tucked his catcher’s mitt in his bag.
“I gotta run. Let’s practice one more time before tryouts on Wednesday,” Kross said. “Until then, see you around.” He patted me on the shoulder, then half the girls around Kelton swarmed Kross like bees to a hive.
Silence stretched between Tyler and me. I helped him pick up the handful of baseballs sitting next to the backstop and pile them into the bucket.
“Are you going to the Cave tonight?” I asked, swinging my bag over my shoulder. Girls tittered loudly around Kelton and Kross.
“My dad and I are having dinner with a scout from Florida State.” Tyler lifted the bucket by the handle. “Lace, can we talk?”
“Becca’s waiting for me,” I said. “I have to go.” I wasn’t prepared to discuss that awkward almost kiss. Besides, with the gossipy girls hanging close by, this definitely wasn’t the place to talk. “Good luck with the scout.” I jogged off the field.
As I ran, I thought more about the compliments Kross and Kelton had given me. They were validation, which was what I needed to stay focused and to boost my confidence. I just had to keep that swagger intact and through tryouts on Wednesday.
Chapter 6
Becca and I had a great time at the mall. After I’d left the guys in the crowd of girls, I’d bolted home, showered, and changed, then picked up Becca. Dad gave me five hundred dollars to buy clothes. I couldn’t buy a whole wardrobe, and I didn’t want to. If I was only going to be here until the end of the school year then there was no sense in investing too much money in winter clothes. I bought a winter jacket, a pair of knee high leather boots, two pairs of Buckle jeans, a couple of sweaters, and gloves—I wasn’t leaving the mall without gloves. Becca tried to coax me into buying a crocheted mini skirt, but I chickened out. I wasn’t that brave yet.
Dad had to work that evening at his club, Rumors, but before he headed out, he had to stop by the Cave. He’d secured the band Two for Two to play at the club, and Mr. Young, Becca’s dad, was stoked.
“I might see you over there, Sweet Pea,” he’d said as he grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter. “If not, don’t stay out too late.”
“I won’t, Dad.”
“Let me know how the band does, too. I have high hopes for them. They’ve only played a few venues. They’re still trying to find their groove,” he said, pocketing his phone. “My cell is on vibrate, so if you need me, I’ll have it in my pocket.”
“I know, Dad. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
He’d gotten in the habit of reiterating the same message every night he went to work. Guilt was etched on his face. He couldn’t babysit me every minute of the day.
When Dad left, I went upstairs and changed. I figured I would wear my new Buckle jeans. They were straight through the legs—perfect to wear with my new boots. The style I bought was their Rock Revival, which had that worn out look with little nick marks just below the front pockets, and heavy cream colored stitching around the pockets and waistband. I decided on a short-sleeve, black cotton scoop-neck top that hung below my breasts. Underneath I wore a pink cami. I didn’t know if it would get stuffy in the club or not. I checked myself in the mirror.
My phone beeped as I was walking down the stairs. Pulling it out of my back pocket, I opened the text message.
Where are you? It was from Becca.
On my way.
The band your father booked is hot.
No kidding. Most of the boy bands Dad signed were hot. Turning on a few lights, I locked the front door then got into my car.
Darkness pressed in and the breeze carried the faint scent of grease as I pulled into the parking lot, looking for a place to park. There wasn’t a single spot open. Maybe it was always packed.
Abandoning the parking lot in front of the Cave, I drove into a lot across the street. More vehicles were filling up the empty spaces around me. I found one in the back, sandwiched between two large trucks, and facing an open field. I grabbed my purse and slid out. The area businesses catered to equipment rental companies and warehouses, with a deli and a pizza place nearby. Becca had mentioned that her dad wanted a place that wouldn’t complain about loud music or crowds.
The marquee blinked as I walked across the street. Tonight: Two for Two. I dodged cars as I made my way toward the factory-like building—two-story brick with tall thin windows and black bars across them. A lighted sign above the glass double doors read “The Cave.” I could already hear the beat of the music getting louder as I approached the entrance.
A hulking bouncer stood guard outside under the portico, with his massive arms crossed in front of him. “ID, please,” he said.
Flipping open my purse, I dug out my wallet and flashed my license.
He scanned it under a light on the small table he was standing next to. “Stop at the window and pay,” he said.
I kept my wallet in hand and did as I was told, waiting behind a group of boys. When they scurried away, I paid the five-dollar cover charge before the goth lady at the window stamped my hand with the word cave. Dumping my wallet into my purse, I strode up a carpeted incline leading into the mouth of the club.
A roped-off balcony with plush couches and chairs wrapped around three sides of the room. Dad’s club had a similar setup for VIP guests. I laughed, wondering who the VIP teenager guests would be. Bodies gyrated and swayed to the beat of the music. Since Dad had just signed Two for Two, I didn’t know this song.
Trying to find Becca in this melee was going to be a monumental task. It seemed the whole school was here. Standing near an empty table, I sent her a text to let her know where I was.
Then the band stopped. “We’ll take a break and be back in fifteen,” Lenny, the lead singer, said. I’d only met him a couple of times in the studio in LA.
The crowd dispersed as the jukebox took over, blaring a Kenny Chesney song. I checked my phone and Becca hadn’t responded. Oh well. Since the crowd thinned out a bit, I decided to walk around.
Then I stopped. Kade was stalking toward me. The closer he got, the more my pulse jumped. He didn’t strike me as the type of guy who hung out at a teen club. Something hot and wild heated up my insides, spreading like wildfire throughout my abdomen. His eyes fixed on me with such intensity that a bead of sweat rolled down my temple. A voice in my head told me to run out of the building, but another weaker voice whispered to run to him. The inner debate was settled when my feet wouldn’t move. Maybe it was the challenge in his eyes—if I did, he would chase me, and I believed that he desperately wanted to. Our recent encounters were far from over. I just wasn’t prepared to deal with him right now.
His hand grazed my thigh as he passed me. Disappointment and relief whisked through me until his fingers brushed along my thigh again. I sucked in air, lots of it. Then his hand crawled up my hip, pressing lightly as though he wanted me to face him. If I hadn’t been caught like a girl in heat, off-guard, and sta
nding in a public place, I would’ve kicked him in the groin again.
“Walk with me,” he whispered. “And don’t make a scene.”
What was with this guy? Was he here to settle the score for me kicking him in the balls? Or all the other things I’d done to him?
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I turned slightly and locked eyes with him.
He grinned. “Wanna bet?”
Kids walked past us, oblivious to our exchange. I moved out of the way of incoming traffic, closer to a round table against the wall. “Yeah. And you’ll lose.”
“How so?” One stride, and he was close to me again.
“Are you thick or something?”
His eyes darkened, and the amused look transformed into that blank expression again—the kind my mom told me to be careful of.
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t run. I didn’t even move. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Becca bouncing toward us.
He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even take his gaze from mine. I wanted to slap him out of his unnerving glare.
“Too much tension between you two.” Becca’s voice was chipper. “Lacey, let’s go. Your dad is backstage with the band. Oh, my God, I can’t thank him enough for what he’s done.” Her white sweetheart-neckline top glowed in the lights.
Kade blinked. Then he tipped his head, brows knitted.
I didn’t want too many people knowing Dad owned a record label. Like Becca, I didn’t want people to suck up to me to get an audition, like some of the kids had at Crestview. I waved mockingly at Kade as Becca tugged me with her.
“I think he wants to kick your ass,” Becca said, plowing through standing bodies.
“Now you believe me?”
“Nah. I was just kidding. Christ, girl. The lust between you two was off the charts.” Her dark eyes sparkled with delight.
“Shut up. Where’s my dad?”
The Maxwell Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 8