Third Base

by Author Stella

  “I don’t pretend to know what your father did or didn’t do twenty-one years ago, but you’re a good kid with your head on your shoulders, and you had to have gotten that from somewhere. I have also seen your little friend, and anyone with halfway decent eyesight can tell there’s no relation between the two of you.”

  I’d never thought about it before, but he was right. Where I was tall, she was short. I wouldn’t have been considered lanky with the level of training and workouts I’d been subjected to over the years, but finding an ounce of fat on my body would’ve been harder than locating a needle in a hayfield. Whereas, Ellie’s body was made of curves that started at her chest and worked their way down her thighs. My brown eyes were the complete opposite of her blues, in both the color and shape. And where I had dark hair, hers was a natural mixture of light brown and red with enough hint of blond to give her locks more of a strawberry hue.

  There wasn’t a single cell in her body that resembled mine.

  “Any idea who took this shit to the tabloid?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” He couldn’t have been more wrong about that. “Had to have been one of Nix’s conquests. One of these days, he’ll learn to keep his mouth shut and his pants zipped.” Steve checked his watch and shook his head. “There’s a mandatory locker room meeting in five. You should probably go ahead and get over there. If you’re late, just blame me. Tell them I had you doing drills to fix the drop in your shoulder.”

  I couldn’t do anything other than nod. I already felt like shit, no need to make it worse by witnessing the disappointment on his face. With the amount of one-on-one time I had with him, he’d become like a second father—or third if I counted Mr. Teller. Steve reminded me so much of my old man with his relentless determination to correct my pitch, wanting me to develop a more “traditional” throw, even though my unique hold on the ball was what gave me the speed that kept batters striking out. But now, hearing him tell me what a good kid I was, how I had my head on straight, I could’ve closed my eyes and convinced myself it was my dad standing in front of me.

  Normally, I had a strong sense of urgency. When I was told to be somewhere by a certain time, I made it there early. When we were down by one in the bottom of the eighth, I threw solid strikeouts. I knew what was needed, and I made sure it was delivered. But not this time. Steve had told me the meeting started in five minutes, and even though that typically would’ve given me plenty of time to make it to the locker room, I managed to stroll in late. All eyes were on me as I made my way in, taking my place in the back along the wall while Coach talked calmly in the front. He may have spoken with even control, but his red cheeks didn’t lie.

  “You all can believe what you want, but nothing in that article came from my mouth,” Gage defended, turning to meet the stare of everyone in the room. “I’ve done some stupid shit in the past—I’ll be the first one to admit that—but this time, it wasn’t me. I just came on the team; how could I possibly know these things about any of you?”

  The room remained silent, as if no one wanted to be the first to speak. In all honesty, it wouldn’t have been too difficult for Gage to have any or all that information. We all started out the pre-season practices with team-building exercises. Aside from that, there’s always the friendly fire that takes place off the field where we share in lighthearted jests about things other players have done. It’s always been an easy way to welcome a new player without alienating anyone, swapping memories to tighten the team dynamic. We were a band of brothers, so when we adopted a new one, we all made sure he had a place in our family. They all did the same thing almost three years ago when I was the newbie.

  But Gage wasn’t lying when he denied having any part in this newest tremor to the club. Maybe no one else believed it, but I did. And the reason I knew he wasn’t behind it was that the sprinkles of truth behind the stories given in that article came from me, during a date with someone I’d thought I could trust…

  This wasn’t the first lesson I’d learned about trusting people, and it more than likely wouldn’t be the last, but it certainly was enough to open my eyes to the viciousness of the dating world. It would end up being the defining moment of my apprehension toward relationships of any kind for the next couple of years—aside from the team, my family, and Ellie.

  After Charlene had left my house that night, we’d tried to continue what we had started, but it didn’t seem to work out. Spring Training had begun, which meant a heavy game schedule with doubleheaders that would leave me exhausted on my feet. On top of that, she had classes and work. So, aside from the occasional phone call that wouldn’t last long before I’d pass out, we never saw each other again. And after several weeks, the calls had stopped, as well. I hadn’t thought much of it, but now that this shame article had been printed, I could only assume she’d been angry at me. And the mention of my relationship with Ellie gave me insight as to why—she clearly believed there was more going on between the two of us than there was.

  “If it helps the team to have someone to blame, then I’ll gladly fall on that sword. I guess it’s my responsibility to do so as the new kid on the block. But I stand here, in front of every single one of you, and swear I wasn’t behind this. I guess all I can hope for is the chance to prove myself. I came in here with more baggage than anyone anticipated, a chip the size of Texas on my shoulder, and I’ve given you no reason to believe me.”

  The entire locker room was so quiet a pin dropping to the floor of the owner’s box upstairs could’ve been heard here. This was the first time Gage had openly admitted to anything, which was ironic because it was done at the same time he denied the allegations. I was clear right then that there was more to Gage Nix than any of us realized. And I found myself wanting to dig deeper until I shared the same bond with him that I did with every other member of this team.

  “It was me,” I blurted out, surprising myself. Although, it seemed I’d also shocked the rest of the guys more. “I have no excuses. No amount of apologies will make up for dragging your names through the mud, but that won’t stop me from telling every single one of you how deeply sorry I am for any pain or trouble this has caused.”

  “Kyler,” Coach called from the head of the room.

  But I ignored him, needing to expel the guilt before it suffocated me. “You all are aware by now how incredibly unpopular I was my entire life. For eighteen years, I basically had one friend. Then I came here and became part of this family, a family bigger than anything I could’ve ever dreamed up on my own.”

  “Coby,” he tried again—this time, using my first name, ensuring he got my attention.

  “No, Coach. Please let me finish. I have to get this out, and then you can say whatever you need to.” I paused and stared at him with what I was sure were pleading eyes. When he nodded, I continued. “Trust has never been something I’ve doubted. I trusted my dad, my best friend, her parents, but other than that, I’d never been in a situation where my faith in someone could’ve come back to haunt me. I came here and immediately put my trust in all of you, and not once has anyone in this room let me down. Yet I’ve unintentionally let a lot of you down in the process of trying to navigate the dating world. I’d gone out to dinner with a girl who I met through my best friend—I guess you could say that gave me a false sense of security. Without thinking of the consequences that could follow, I opened up to her and told her what I thought were irrelevant, funny stories about my family…you guys.

  “I have blind, unwavering faith in Ellie—who you all know by now—so in my mind, that level of trust was transferred from my best friend to the woman she’d set me up with. That was my mistake. It’s something I can promise I’ve learned from in the last thirty minutes. It’s no consolation, but I assumed the things I told her wouldn’t cause a problem since they were innocent tales of brotherhood. None of it seemed to be anything worthy of repeating, especially to a reporter. I figured they wouldn’t care about Mark proposing to Madonna or the drug test Henry had to
take, even though no one believed he’d never so much as touched a narcotic of any kind, much less performance enhancements. All I can say to you guys is this was as much of a lesson for me as I’m sure it has been for us all. I’ve learned that anything can be spun negatively, and the backlash from this is something I’ll spend the rest of my time on this team trying to make up for.”

  Slow claps began to echo in the tiled room until every player was on his feet, applauding me for fucking up. It literally couldn’t get any more ironic. But the praise only lasted seconds before Coach called us to order and had everyone back in their seats or settled into their places against the wall.

  “Do I need to install a tampon machine in here for you ladies?” The twinkle in his steely eyes gave him away, even though his lips remained taut in a show of business. “Congrats, Kyler, you’re officially a man. Pretty soon, that peach fuzz will resemble real facial hair. Just be careful, because now that you’ve reached puberty, you can get a girl pregnant, and I’m not about to raise another baby.”

  The room broke out in hysterical laughter.

  “Now that we’ve gotten that straightened out, we can move forward. Let’s keep our heads down and our noses clean. I run a tight ship, and I expect you all to behave professionally on and off the field. And from now on,” he added, pausing to throw a hint of a smirk my way, “someone needs to chaperone Kyler’s dates.”

  I could only pray Ellie would take the news as well as the team had, but once I got home and relayed it all over dinner, she about lost her marbles. I had to physically restrain her from going after Charlene. The news of her friend’s betrayal had Ellie upset from the moment I started the story, but as soon as I begrudgingly informed her of the lies written about the two of us, I thought I’d have to visit her in jail and sit behind her during her murder trial. I’d hoped the fact that our names were never given would’ve calmed her down, but no such luck.

  I’d seen Ellie in every colorful mood from black to white and back again. But the shade of red she wore after hearing it all was something I never cared to witness again. Although, I’d finally found a reason to laugh. After the day I’d had, I didn’t think I’d be able to smile for a while, let alone collapse onto the couch in a fit of hysterics, especially so soon after it happened. Enraged Ellie reminded me very much of the girl on The Exorcist. I kept waiting for her head to start spinning around while she spoke incoherently.

  She didn’t find it as funny as I did, but at least my uncontrollable laughter brought her back to a more sane level of mad. As long as I didn’t have to worry about her strangling Charlene in the middle of class, I was okay. She swore she wouldn’t, but she refused to promise me she wouldn’t say something to her.

  If she ever did, I never found out about it.

  By the end of the season, I could no longer hide the issues with my arm. Over the months, it’d gotten progressively worse, which in turn, affected my game. I’d been a fool to think it could continue to go unnoticed, when in reality, an ace pitcher with an earned run average of slightly over three wouldn’t tank his stats in one season without some major influence. The thought of it being drugs was out of the question, and with Steve pointing out my drop in speed and lessening range of motion, it only left the possibility of an injury.

  Although, I could honestly say I hadn’t sustained an injury. I’d continued to argue that it was nothing more than a pulled muscle and overworking it, but that could only go on for so long. I’d seen the team doctor, who echoed my assumption, but when they had to bench me in the last game of the season, they decided to get another opinion.

  I knew it was worse than anyone suspected—not because I had the faintest idea what was wrong, but because I’d been silently living with the pain for over a year. There were days I could barely hold the ball, let alone wind up and throw it. Those were the scariest—definitely not something a professional pitcher cared to experience. But again, I’d kept my mouth shut, telling myself I needed to get through the season before informing my coaches. I wanted to believe it would only take a few months of taking it easy to heal the pulled muscle. Maybe a little physical therapy during the off-season would do it good. But the warning bells in my head that deafened me during every game had told me otherwise.

  So when I finally admitted to my coaches about the burning pain that started in my shoulder and settled between my muscles along the back of my arm, as well as the icy tingles that ran into my hand, they were angry I hadn’t spoken up sooner. Their first concern was a rotator cuff injury. But after seeing a specialist and receiving a clean bill of health, nothing wrong with my shoulder, they agreed to physical therapy and a light load until the start of the next season, when they’d re-evaluate me.

  “Hey, man,” Gage’s deep voice filled my ear through the phone. “I’m leaving tomorrow evening to head home for the holidays and figured it’s a good time to toss back a few. You busy?”

  “How many of the guys did you call before me?” I muted the TV in my room, trying not to give away just how pathetic my life had been in the few short weeks since our last game. The entire team knew something was up with my million-dollar arm, but the coaches passed it off— exactly what I’d done for as long as I could—as being overworked.

  Aside from physical therapy appointments, I’d barely left my house in the last three weeks. Thanksgiving approached, and although I’d planned to head back to DeArmanville with Ellie, I decided to stay home this year. My dad had known about the issues with my arm since the coaches found out, so I used physical therapy as an excuse for not being there for the holiday. It took a little more convincing on my behalf for Ellie to stop pushing the issue, but eventually, she conceded and agreed to spend time with me when she returned.

  For two people who lived in the same house together, we hardly saw each other. She had school when I was home during the off-season, and when she was home for the summer, I was on the field. We were still just as close as always, but we’d begun to rely heavier on the use of our phones to remain in touch. It didn’t bother me too much because she was still there if I needed her. The only times I felt somewhat affected by her absence was when she was spending the night with Justin Bieber—which she only did when I was away, and I only knew then because our conversations would be short and rushed. As far as I was aware, he’d never stayed at our house, but I’d never found the balls to ask her, either.

  Gage laughed, and it startled me out of my thoughts, bringing me back to my pathetic present. “No one. You were my first call. But please don’t make me call anyone else. You’re the only one I trust to keep me out of trouble.”

  After his rocky start on the team, we’d grown pretty close. I guess standing up and taking the heat off his back after the tabloid incident made him appreciate me. It also was the beginning of him cleaning up his act for the sake of the Titans.

  “No need to call anyone else. I’m just sitting on my ass watching TV…alone. Where are we going, and do I need to drive?”

  Of course I needed to drive. Gage was perfectly capable of hitting a bar by himself, no wingman needed, but he had some personal issues with Uber drivers and taxis, which left him bumming rides—most of the time from me.

  Within an hour, I’d picked him up and we were seated in the VIP section of a popular club. Gage was incapable of doing anything low-key, which bothered me, but at the same time, it hadn’t interfered with my need to stay private. At the most, there were “sightings,” but even those weren’t anything major. After all, ballplayers weren’t Hollywood stars. We were only recognized by fans, which happened to be the only people who cared we were there. Unfortunately, we lived in a sports-driven town. Not only was Tuscaloosa the home of the Titans—a new team most didn’t pay any attention to until they signed a blind-as-a-bat pitcher straight out of some nameless high school—but there were also college teams with loyal followings.

  While Gage got his fill of drinks and women, I sat in the booth with my bottle of water and watched kids my age act like fool
s. It made me contemplate what life would’ve been like had I been accepted by the popular crowd in high school. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d be out on that dance floor, moving sloppily to the heavy beats of music, or if I’d still be me, just with more friends.

  Before I could debate it any further, a pretty blonde invited herself to sit next to me. It was a brazen move, but when I glanced that way, I could see the waves of nervousness wash over her. It was too loud to speak more than a few words, but I’d managed to get her name—Lori. And after no more than ten minutes, I was ready to head outside just to have some sort of conversation.

  “Do you think he’ll find you out here?” she asked once we both were seated in my car.

  “I sent him a text, but there’s no telling when he’ll read it. He’ll either come find me or find someone to leave with.” I started my car and turned on the heat to ward off the bite of the November air.

  Either the nervousness I’d seen in her eyes was nothing but an act, or the heat did something to her brain and made her react without caution. She reached over the center console and lightly ran her hand down my thigh to my knee, and then back up again, only this time, she trailed her fingers along the inside, ending at my groin, which she cupped seductively.

  I instantly grew hard with her touch.

  “Slide your seat back,” she whispered into my ear, and I did what I was told without question. Barely waiting until I had myself pushed away from the steering wheel, she climbed over the console and into my lap. “He’s inside with my friend. I think she was taking him to the bathroom in the back. I doubt he’ll be out for a while if I know her as well as I think I do.”

  I wasn’t sure if she thought this was considered dirty talk, but it didn’t do anything for me. Conversing about Gage getting it on in a filthy bathroom stall at a club with some chick he’d never met wasn’t my idea of an aphrodisiac, but I couldn’t tell her that. Not because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but because she didn’t give me the chance to. She began to grind against me, her lips so close to mine I could feel every breath she took.