by Sykes, V. K.
As the girl dipped her head, Taylor thought she saw her lower lip tremble just a little.
“I know that,” Devon said in a thin voice. “But reading between the lines, that sure doesn’t sound very good to me.”
Taylor wanted to reassure her, but she wasn’t about to lie or sugar coat the precarious situation her father faced. “You know there’s not much security in a pro baseball career, Devon. Ryan has actually been fortunate to have played so long for the Hornets. Most players get traded several times, or change teams as free agents.”
Devon swallowed hard as she nodded. “Dad always said he hoped to finish his career in Pittsburgh, but if he couldn’t, he wanted to go to an American League city as a DH and play until he was at least forty.”
“Really?” Taylor said weakly. And guess who was responsible for screwing up those plans?
“Yeah, but he figured the Hornets would want to keep him around. He told me he’d taken less in his last contract than what his agent said another team was willing to give him. Dad called it giving the Hornets a hometown discount, or something like that.”
That sounded like the Ryan Locke Taylor had come to admire. But she felt almost desperate to shift the conversation. “Did you like living in Pittsburgh?”
Devon paused for a moment before shaking her head. “Yes and no. There were some problems the last year or so.” She gave a little shrug as she shifted to glance out the side window, apparently not willing to elaborate.
“But at least I felt like I had a home,” she said when Taylor remained silent. “Now I don’t even have that anymore.”
Taylor still kept quiet, sensing the girl had more to say.
When Devon turned to face forward again, her voice cracked. “No home, no mom, and a dad who’s not there half the time. Wow, sucks to be me, huh?”
Her tearful attempt at a grin practically ripped Taylor’s thudding heart out of her chest.
“I can’t even imagine how it must have felt to lose your mother like that, Dev.” Taylor would have reached across the console and hugged the girl had she not been concentrating on the thick but fast-moving traffic on the road around her. “But I know exactly what it was like to grow up in a baseball family. My dad was a ballplayer, too. Not quite like your dad, though. Mine spent most of his career in the minors and was finished as a player when I was still little.”
Devon’s wide eyes reflected her surprise. “What did he do after he stopped playing? I know minor leaguers don’t make much money.”
“No, they don’t. We sure weren’t flush with cash, especially after my mother’s poor health made it impossible for her to keep working. Dad was lucky, though. He got a job as a minor league scout, which was a big relief, but it took him away from home most of the time. That was hard on us, especially on Mom, of course.” Taylor reached into the console and fished around for the roll of dollar bills she used to pay tolls as they approached the Ben Franklin Bridge.
“Yeah, really. Do you have any sisters or brothers?” Devon was perking up again.
“A brother. He’s four years older than me.”
“You’re lucky. I wish I had a brother or sister.”
Taylor flinched a little. She could obviously see Devon’s point of view on that score, but in truth she’d never felt very lucky to have Carter. Acknowledging those feelings had always made her feel a little ashamed, though, because it wasn’t all Carter’s fault that he’d turned out to be such a self-absorbed man, aloof from everyone but his own little brood. Their father had been so hard on him, unable to suppress his disappointment that his son barely made an effort to measure up as an athlete and a competitor. And the more their dad tried to instill his own drive into Carter, the more Carter had rebelled and rejected everything his father stood for. Fortunately for everyone, he’d turned his anger into a fierce desire to excel at school and to make a lot of money, not to drugs or other self-destructive behavior.
“Maybe you will someday,” Taylor said. “Your dad’s still a young man.”
Where did that thought come from?
“Yeah, well, I`m not holding my breath on that. He hardly even dates. As far as I can tell, he’s practically a monk.” Devon gave her a meaningful look. “Though maybe that’s changing, huh, Taylor?”
Crossing the bridge over the Delaware River, Taylor had to concentrate hard on staying in her lane as she tried to figure out what to say to that loaded question. For a monk, Ryan Locke is one hell of a lover.
The obvious answer was to avoid going down that particular road. “Things have been tough for your dad this last while—like your situation at school, and sometimes his play on the field. So, he really needs as much support as you can give him right now.”
“Well, it hasn’t exactly been a blast for me, either,” Devon shot back, her shoulders lifting as she tensed.
Taylor nodded. “Of course not. That’s why you two really need to work together. I told Ryan the same thing. Take it from me, life’s too short to be fighting with your father any more than you have to. You can’t let something like this drive a wedge between you that might last for a long time. I battled with my dad a lot, and in retrospect it was mostly over stupid stuff. And then before I knew it, he was gone, and I had to come to terms with the fact that I’d never get any of those wasted moments back.”
“Gone?” Devon shot her a puzzled look.
“He passed away when I was thirteen.” Taylor’s throat started to close up as she said the words, as it always did even all these years later. She decided there was no need to share any of the gruesome details of what had happened to her father unless Devon really pressed her.
The girl exhaled a deep sigh. “Oh, crap. That sucks. I’m so sorry, Taylor.”
“He was my sun and my moon and my stars,” Taylor managed. “Everything changed when we lost him, so trust me when I say I understand how difficult things are for you right now.”
Because instead of pulling Taylor and Bridget closer together, Vance Page’s death had driven them farther apart. Her mother’s simmering resentment against Taylor’s special relationship with her father had grown like a cancer after that, and she’d showered all her maternal affection on Carter, relegating her daughter to the role of perpetual disappointment. The one thing that might have ultimately drawn her mother closer was something Taylor had shown little interest in all these years. Namely, becoming a mother and homemaker. To Bridget, that had always represented the ultimate accomplishment. Instead, Taylor had hitched her wagon to the same horse as her father, the game of baseball that Bridget still resented with unbridled passion.
Devon didn’t say anything more as they made their way through the streets of center city toward Taylor’s condo. Finally, as they turned into the high-rise’s underground parking ramp, Devon gave a somber nod as if she’d reached an important conclusion. “Thanks for today, Taylor. You’re okay.”
Given that they came from a once-sullen teenager who had barely spoken to her for the first eighteen hours they’d spent together, Taylor concluded that those two simple words constituted high praise, indeed.
27
TAYLOR GLANCED AT the girl in the passenger seat as they headed away from Independence National Park. Underneath the prickly outer coat she’d grown to insulate her from a world where she felt she didn’t fit, Devon Locke was not only a frighteningly smart girl but had a sweet nature, too. Taylor had enjoyed every minute she’d spent with Ryan’s daughter, at least since the girl started to thaw at the amusement park. Keeping Devon busy had helped.
Today, they were doing the tourist thing around town. And despite her initial reluctance to embrace Philadelphia sightseeing, Devon had gradually warmed to the idea. Now, as they drove west on Market Street toward the museum district, the girl enthused about Independence National Historic Park where they’d spent the last three hours before grabbing a quick lunch at a nearby sandwich place.
“This morning made all that Revolutionary history stuff more real to me,” Devon said. “I
t’s all so boring when you just read stuff in textbooks.”
“This city has such a rich history,” Taylor said as she rolled down the window to let in some of the warm, fragrant spring air. April had always been her favorite month growing up in Philly. The trees had those fresh leaves whose special shade of green heralded the start of the growing season.
“It’s my first time here.” Devon’s head craned to look up as they looped slowly around the imposing and historic City Hall, topped by William Penn’s statue.
“Really?” That surprised Taylor, given that Devon had grown up only three hundred miles away.
“Dad and I haven’t traveled a lot. He always said that he was already on the road too much for baseball, and he was sick of hotels by the end of the season.”
“I guess my family wasn’t much different.” Taylor had traveled extensively for her work, but had never been overseas or even to Mexico. Too busy with her job responsibilities. Maybe too reluctant to travel alone. One awful trip to a singles resort in the Caribbean a few years ago had soured her on that option.
Devon smiled, as if remembering something that had made her happy. “Dad took me to Disney World three times, though. I loved all that stuff and want to go back again some time.”
Good for you, Ryan. “Wow, three times before you were fourteen. That’s a pretty good dad, I’d say.”
Devon went silent for about half a minute and then nodded. “He’s always tried hard. I guess I don’t make it easy sometimes, though. Like now.”
Taylor decided to let that admission pass, though she was pleased inside. She turned up Benjamin Franklin Parkway and pointed to a complex of brick buildings on her left. “That’s where I went to school, Devon. Friends Select.”
Devon ducked her head to look up through the windshield at the high-rise office building adjacent to the school. “You mean Friends, as in Quakers?”
Taylor nodded. “The Friends founded it in 1833, and it’s been at this same location since 1885. It’s open to everybody, and takes students from kindergarten to grade twelve.”
“God, it looks pretty big. Did you like it there?”
“The high-rise beside it is leased to some corporation, so the school’s not really all that big. But, yes, I absolutely loved going there for high school. I still keep in touch with a couple of my teachers.”
Though I`m pathetically guilty of neglecting my friends.
Taylor had made a vow to re-connect with at least a few of her high school and university pals when she returned to the city, but so far she`d been too busy to think about anything other than the Patriots. And then she`d been away in Florida half the time, anyway.
“Is it snotty like Edenwood?” Devon gave a derisive little snort. “I hate private schools full of spoiled little bitches.”
Taylor shook her head. “Anything but. There’s a good mix of kids, and the school focuses on moral values, especially tolerance and compassion. It’s very strong academically, too. Small classes, wonderful teachers.” She paused for a moment to let that sink in before continuing. “You know, I think you’d probably like it, Devon. To a person, everybody I went to school with there was glad they went.”
She’d spent the last few days thinking about what might work for Devon, especially if Ryan remained with the Patriots. To her, transferring Devon to Friends seemed like a no-brainer. But she didn’t want to sing its praises too loudly for fear of making the girl suspicious that Taylor was trying to do a sales job on her. Who knew what Ryan would think of such an idea, anyway?
Devon’s brow furrowed. “I really want to go to public school. It can be in a ghetto, as far as I’m concerned. I won’t go back to Edenwood or any place like it. I was fine in public school in Pittsburgh before Dad exiled me to Edenwood.”
Not according to Ryan, but Taylor wasn’t about to get in a debate with Devon over what had actually happened. Not smart, and not her place, anyway.
“I hear you.” She reached over and gave the girl’s hand a quick squeeze.
Taylor swung around the Art Museum and followed Kelly Drive past Boathouse Row, pointing out the rowing crews training on the Schuykill River. Devon listened as Taylor played tour guide, but didn’t say much for several minutes.
As they crossed over the river and took the ramp for I-76 north, heading for Valley Forge, Devon cleared her throat and said, “So, do you really think I could fit in at that Friends School?”
* * *
RYAN LOOKED UP from his magazine to catch a glimpse of Dembinski making his way toward the back of the team plane. The GM, his tie loosened and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows, stopped and tapped Marriner, Ryan’s seat mate, on the shoulder. Marriner, who had been engrossed in the music coming from his iPhone, raised his head and glowered at him.
“Switch seats with me for a couple of minutes, Marriner, okay?” Dembinski said. “I want to talk to Locke.”
Marriner cast Ryan a sympathetic glance before slowly getting to his feet. Usually a visit from the GM spelled nothing good. Still, Ryan thought, it wasn’t exactly normal to deliver bad news while heading home after a three-game sweep of a road series. In the clubhouse and on the bus to the airport, the atmosphere had been party-like.
Ryan figured he’d played well enough to merit more starts in the coming week. He’d banged out three hits and had two walks in thirteen trips to the plate. No RBI’s, but he’d scored two runs. And most importantly, he hadn’t been charged with an error. A shaky underhanded toss to the pitcher in the eighth yesterday had almost been his undoing, though. It had left him sucking in air as he jogged back into the dugout, his heart thudding so hard his chest wall hurt.
Had that ultimately harmless bumble been enough to bring down Dembinski’s wrath?
Once he’d settled into the seat, Dembinski stuck out his hand. “I just wanted to congratulate you on a good series, Locke.”
Holy shit.
Those words were about the last he’d have expected out of the GM’s mouth. He grabbed Dembinski’s hand and gave it a solid shake. “I appreciate that.”
“You looked comfortable out there, at least from where I was sitting. How did you feel? Any yips at all?”
“Everything felt fine,” Ryan said, mentally wincing at the lie.
“Ault and Delgado were satisfied, despite that little fuck-up in the eighth.”
Ryan tried to give a casual shrug. “I thought I might have time to step on the bag myself, and when I saw it was going to be too close a play for that, I kind of rushed my toss.”
“Well, it worked out okay in the end, so no big deal.” Dembinski’s eyes narrowed as he shifted his body to look more directly at Ryan. “Look, I figured Taylor was overreacting when she pushed me to ship you off to that shrink. After the Miami series, I don’t see any good reason to force you to miss more time by sending you to New York. We need your bat in the lineup.”
While pure relief should have flowed through Ryan’s body on hearing those welcome words, he was surprised to feel something quite different. In fact, his initial reaction was anger—anger that Dembinski was dissing Taylor behind her back.
“That’s good, but I’m sure Taylor was just doing what she thought was best for the team,” he said gruffly. “And best for me, too. I can’t blame her for that.”
The words came out easily, much to Ryan’s surprise.
Dembinski shot him a curious look, his lips curling into something of a smarmy smile. “Ah, yes. That’s the way it is, is it?”
Ryan didn’t like either the look or the question. “What are you talking about?”
Dembinski snorted, still smiling. “Well, you two have been pretty, uh, close since practically the day of the trade. And don’t bother trying to deny it. It hasn’t exactly been a state secret, you know.”
Jesus. Ryan couldn’t help wondering if Dembinski had set up this whole conversation to lay some kind of trap for him. Or for Taylor. But hadn’t the GM always been a big booster of hers? Surely Dembinski coul
dn’t be bent out of shape that they’d dated a little?
The GM gave him a patronizing pat on the forearm. “Well, the word on the street is that it’s over for you two, anyway. And believe me, Ryan, that’s a good thing. For both of you.”
That sounded way too much like a threat, and Ryan reacted instinctively. “Well, you can take that little nugget and shove it, pal.”
Not exactly devastating repartee, but at least I didn’t lose it and slug the bastard.
“For a guy whose ass is on the line, that wasn’t exactly the smartest thing to say,” Dembinski snarled.
Ryan glared at him. “Is that a threat? Well, you do what you gotta do, boss. I’m not some raw rookie who wets his pants when you bark, so don’t try and tell me what I can and can’t do off the field. Whether there was anything to those rumors or not, I’d be giving you exactly the same answer—it’s none of your business.”
“No?” Dembinski sneered as he got up. “Actually, you’re wrong, because there isn’t one fucking thing that goes on with this team that isn’t my business.” He leaned down until he was almost in Ryan’s face. “We’ll talk again soon.”
Ryan ignored the barely veiled threat, flipping open his magazine and staring down into it until the GM headed back up the aisle.
Maybe he’d just sealed his fate with the mercurial and proud GM, but there was no way he was going to lie down and take that kind of crap. Whatever Dembinski decided to do with him, he’d have to live with it, because he couldn’t live with himself otherwise.
Still, his gut twisted into a hard knot at the thought of what this whole thing might mean for Taylor. Everybody on the team thought that she was the GM’s fair-haired girl, an up-and-comer who had Dembinski’s ear and whose advice was favored over that of the other AGM’s. But the tone he’d used when he spoke about her just now made Ryan think she’d definitely fallen hard off that pedestal.