Rookie Mistake: A Sports Romance Novel (The Beasts of Baseball Book 1)

by Ward,Alice

  And there it was. A tabloid featuring me with my hand over my dick, and the two girls in my bed. Everything around me faded, the locker room noise turning into a low buzz as all the good in my life turned back into a nightmare.

  That bitch!

  “Sit down,” Coach said, placing a hand on my shoulder and forcing me into a chair.

  I shook my head, hoping to wake up and everything be alright again. But the pictures were still there for the entire world — and Whitney — to see.

  “Coach, that happened before we talked.”

  “It doesn’t matter when it was,” he barked, on the verge of yelling, “it’s on the newsstands today!”

  My good day just turned ugly, and my heart felt as though it would break in two at the thought of Whitney seeing this. “I’m sorry, Coach,” I stammered.

  “I didn’t want you to see this before the game, but you didn’t need some paparazzi springing it on you either.”

  I nodded my understanding, still in shock.

  “Calvin, shake this off or use it to your advantage. Get pissed and show the world what you’re made of. You hear me?”

  I nodded again and stood up to stumble to my locker.

  I sat in my leather chair, stared at the beautiful wood of my locker, and wondered how hard I would have to slam my head into it to be put in a coma. Whitney certainly wouldn’t leave me if I was in a coma.

  “I saw the paper today.”

  It was Ace and his voice carried that same cocky, boastful edge it usually did. It grated on my last, very frayed nerve. He slung an arm over my shoulder and it felt like a weight. “I’m proud of ya. Taught you well.”

  I shrugged and pushed his arm away. “Leave me alone,” I grunted.

  He shot me a glare, then smirked and slowly walked away. He was loving every minute of this. Holly probably told him Whitney was back, so what better way to celebrate than with a front page article displaying what a fucking douche I had been.

  I dressed and walked onto the field. Whitney sat in her seat and waved with a smile. She was sitting beside an angry looking Holly, whose eyes were shooting daggers at me. Shit! Holly knows, but hasn’t told Whitney. I had to get through this game, and then I could talk to her. There would be no way for her to see it as long as she stayed seated, and then I could talk to her face to face.

  The first couple innings were rough, but I managed to stay focused and keep the opposing team from scoring. In the second inning, Rhett sat down in the empty seat next to Whitney and my focus became even cloudier, allowing two runs in a row. Rhett kept leaning in, whispering something to Whitney. Holly just glared at me.

  Then it happened.

  Whitney’s head tilted as she was looking down, then she leaned forward to pick something up. Holly’s face changed, going from angry to mortified in an instant. I watched her mouth form the word, “No!” as she grabbed for whatever was in Whitney’s hand.

  A newspaper.

  I stood there on the mound, the ball in my hand, the batter at the plate, ready for my throw. But all I could see was Whitney’s face as she looked at the paper then up at me.

  “Malone!”

  A hand slammed down on my shoulder, but I barely felt it, barely felt anything. Except the cracking of my already fractured heart as a single tear slid down Whitney’s cheek.

  “You’re out,” Coach said beside me, taking the ball from my hand and waving for the relief pitcher to come onto the field. He grabbed my arm, steering me from where I’d been rooted. He was saying something to me, but I couldn’t make out the words over the roaring of the blood in my ears. He took me into the dugout, then through it and into the locker room, pushing me into a chair.

  “Officially, you’re sick. Got it!”

  I nodded. It was true. I was sick.

  He stomped out, heading back to the game while I sat there, trying to force air in and out of my lungs.

  I had to do something.

  Then I was on my feet and was out the door, going through the maze of hallways. I exploded through the door of the stands, heading toward the home plate section.

  But I was too late… Whitney was gone.

  So were Holly and Rhett.

  I looked around and saw them walking up to the skybox, Rhett’s arm around Whitney’s shoulders. I wanted to roar out my frustration.

  “Look, it’s Calvin Malone!”

  It was a kid’s voice, so I forced my face to relax and gave him a high five as I passed him. But soon, I was surrounded by a throng of people thrusting balls and pens at me, getting in my way, stopping me from getting to Whitney.

  “Way to fuck it up, fuck face,” some dude shouted.

  I ignored that comment as I pushed my way through the crowd, telling everyone that I was sick, and would come back to sign balls as soon as I could.

  When I finally managed to get through the crowd, the door was closing to the skybox. I took the steps three at a time, finally making it to the door. It was locked. I pounded and pounded, then stopped to peer through the glass.

  Whitney was in Rhett’s arms, and his hands were moving up and down her back. I could see her shoulders shake with her sobs. Then Holly moved in front of her, blocking my view, facing me with hate in her eyes. Slowly, she lifted a hand and shot me the bird.

  ***

  I sat at my house for hours, waiting for Whitney to come and, at the very least, collect her things. I was afraid to leave. Afraid I’d miss that opportunity to talk to her, beg her to forgive me. Again.

  The Beasts won the game. I know because I stared at the TV, hoping for some glimpse of Whitney in the background. I’d called her phone over and over. Then Holly’s. Then Rhett’s.

  Voicemail. Voicemail. Voicemail.

  I was in electronic purgatory.

  Which was fitting because I was in hell.

  As I sat waiting, I knew it was truly over this time. There was no way I could convince her all that was behind me, or being with those girls was what triggered me to call her. That nothing, no fantasy or dream, could live up to the reality of having her in my life.

  She’d never believe me.

  Hell, I barely believed it myself.

  This was like being in some horrible conspiracy movie.

  Conspiracy.

  Marty’s word came floating back to me. He thought he’d been set up. I certainly knew how he felt. Yeah, I’d been well and thoroughly set up.

  By Caroline. But who else?

  Ace?

  Rhett?

  Holly?

  Others?

  I shook my head. I didn’t know, and it all sounded way too crazy. But now that the thought was planted, it tried to take root, playing scenario after scenario in my mind.

  My heart raced, my mind was reeling, and now everything that Marty had said started to make more sense. Maybe there was a conspiracy. But why?

  You’re being ridiculous, Calvin. Marty was a loon; don’t you start too!

  Picking up my phone, I dialed again.

  “Hello, Calvin.”

  My heart sank. It was Holly.

  “Holly, I need to talk to Whitney,” I said, knowing I sounded frantic.

  “She doesn’t want to talk you,” she hissed and then the line went dead.

  Fuck!

  We’d had such an amazing three days together. Everything was fine; better than fine. It had been like old times, when it was only me and her. Why did this have to happen now?

  I grabbed my keys and jumped in the truck. If Holly was with her, they were probably at Ace’s.

  My foot slammed on the gas pedal and pushed my large SUV as fast as it could go to Ace’s place. I made it to his house in record time, even faster than when in my old Porsche.

  My fists hurt as they pounded on the door for over two minutes straight. Finally, Ace answered. He leaned against the door frame, no shirt, already looking drunk.

  “What’s up, kid?” he asked sarcastically.

  “I need to speak to Whitney,” I insisted.

>   “No can do,” he said, his tongue gliding across his teeth.

  “Is she here?”

  He opened the door wide enough for me to see both Holly and Whitney sitting on the couch. It was obvious he wasn’t going to move out of the way for me to come inside, and he wasn’t going to let me talk to Whitney.

  “Whitney!” I yelled through the door.

  She looked at me; her eyes red and puffy, and it was like a punch in the gut. I felt so bad for hurting her. I was the biggest asshole in the history of assholes.

  Ace closed the door just enough to block my view. I continued to try and look past him, calling out her name.

  “Look, hot shot, you need to go.”

  I quit shouting and looked straight in his eye. “Ace, let me through this fucking door or so help me…” I threatened.

  He laughed. “So help you what?” he taunted.

  I growled low in my chest. “I have to talk to her,” I demanded.

  “You come to my house, beat on my door, scream and yell, then threaten me?” He was still smiling even though his tone was cocky and arrogant. “I’m afraid that’s a big mistake.”

  I took a deep breath and looked at the man who once was my idol. “Ace, man to man here. Let me in so I can clear this up.”

  “There’s nothing to clear up,” he spouted. “The paper put it in black and white.”

  I lunged, pushing past him, realizing he wouldn’t be reasonable. He pushed me back, and I stumbled off the top step, almost losing my balance. His eyes were dark and cold as his lips curled into a crooked smile.

  “I told ya to settle down, kid, but you wanted to outdo me,” he taunted. ‘Well, you proved you’re a stud, but you lost your lady in the process.”

  I lunged forward again, this time with my arm cocked back. I swung as hard as I could at his smug face. The connection was solid, and he fell back into the door, opening it enough for me to see Whitney again.

  “Whitney!” I yelled out, then felt Ace’s knuckles slam into my jaw. I fell back, this time not catching myself, landing on my ass at the bottom of his three concrete steps.

  “I told you I’d take you down, hot shot,” he smirked, then slammed the door.

  I wiped myself off and climbed into my SUV. I drove home slowly, almost stopping at Home Plate for a drink, but talked myself out of it. I knew if I could just talk to her things would be okay. If I could get close enough to her to explain.

  I dialed Rhett’s number and got his voicemail. “That was a real dick move today, Rhett, not even giving me a chance to talk to her. Whose side are you on? The skirt you’re chasing or the man you paid millions for?”

  Next, I dialed Marty, and when he answered, I asked him to meet me at my house. He kept asking if I was okay, and I kept telling him I was fine, to just meet me. I wasn’t fine. None of this was fine.

  I sat on the white chair in my living room and stared out the window. When I saw Marty’s red truck pull up, I rushed to the door and held it open while he jogged up the walk.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  I pulled him inside, shut the door, and motioned for him to sit down. He listened intently as I told him about Whitney, and how everyone seemed to be keeping her away from me. “They don’t want her to know the truth,” I said. I knew I sounded crazy, just like Marty had that night at the bar, but I couldn’t come up with an explanation. Nothing made sense.

  “Why would Rhett want to destroy one of his most valuable players?” Marty asked. Great, now I sound like a lunatic to Marty!

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But, why wouldn’t he let her talk to me?”

  When I got to the part about Ace, explaining why my lip was bleeding, and my jaw was red — something I kept pushing off answering when Marty first arrived — I noticed his eyes grow darker.

  “You need to steer clear of Ace Newman,” he said. “If he wants to destroy you, he will.”

  These were things I’d already figured out on my own. What I needed to know was why he would want to, and how he planned to do it. What did Whitney have to do with any of this? My mind was scrambling for answers.

  “I mean, I could say Rhett played the hero role because he wants her for himself,” I explained. “But, what does Ace have to do with that?”

  Marty shrugged. “Unless he’s just protecting Rhett’s interests.”

  “Did Ace use Holly to get an in with Whitney for Rhett?” I asked out loud. “This is crazy!” I shook my head, then stood and paced around the room. I sounded crazy… that was the problem.

  “I’m really sorry, man,” Marty said, patting me on the back. “Just watch yourself.”

  He looked as exhausted as I must have when I sat and listened to him at the bar that night. I walked him out, thanked him for coming, and apologized for ranting about crap that made no sense.

  I pulled a beer from the fridge. I twisted the cap from the top and held it to my lips. It was the first one I’d had in over a week. It tasted good as it rolled down my throat. I finished it in one guzzle, then grabbed another before going upstairs. I sat on Whitney’s bed, looked around at her belongings and felt my heart aching inside my chest.

  Slowly, I went to my room. The mattress felt so big without her beside me and the room so cold without her snuggled under my arm. I clicked on the TV and scanned through the channels until I found one of my favorite sports shows.

  I knew they would all be talking about how Malone went nuts and ran through the stands, and I wasn’t wrong. I watched video after video of myself acting like a crazy person trying to get to Whitney.

  “And what was it all about?” one reporter asked and then pointed to the screen where the video Caroline took was playing. You could hear me screaming at her to get the fuck out, bleeped for language of course. Thankfully my junk was blurred out. I knew there were plenty unedited versions floating around the Internet too, so I didn’t dare look.

  The hosts all laughed and added their two cents about the situation. “So, was that his estranged girlfriend in the stands?” one asked.

  “Yes, there have been rumors that Rhett Hamilton was dating his ex,” another added. I couldn’t take it anymore. I clicked it off and rested my head on the pillow that was scented with Whitney’s perfume.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  e

  Calvin

  I woke up to a loud banging on my front door and the chime of the doorbell echoing off the walls of the large empty rooms. I jumped up and ran down the steps, skipping them three and four at a time. I unlocked it, jerking it open. My heart sank when I saw Holly standing on my doorstep.

  Alone.

  “I’ve come for Whitney’s things,” she said, her hands on her hips, a don’t give me any shit look in her eyes.

  “How is she?” I asked, pulling a t-shirt over my head.

  “How do you think she is?” Holly snapped, rolling her eyes. “Can I come in or what?”

  I moved out of the doorway and let her enter. I looked over her shoulder to check if anyone was with her. “I’m alone, don’t worry,” she said, then her eyes softened as she studied the bruise on my face. “That looks pretty nasty.”

  I gripped my jaw, I hadn’t seen it yet. I hoped Ace’s eye looked worse.

  “I need to talk to her,” I said, bringing her back to the most important matter.

  Her eyes hardened again. “Well, that’s not going to happen,” she snapped. “Where are her things?”

  I pointed upstairs and then followed Holly as she made her way up. “Nice place by the way.”

  She began gathering Whitney’s clothes, folding them into the suitcases. With each item she packed, my composure cracked more and more.

  I couldn’t take her leaving again, I just couldn’t.

  “Holly, you’ve known me a long time, so please listen to me,” I pleaded.

  She looked up at me as she finished zipping the last suitcase. “I have known you a long time Calvin, but…” she waved a hand in my direction, “this person in front of me is
n’t the same guy. So what does it matter?”

  “I am the same guy,” I said, needing her to believe me. “I fucked up, let everything happening around me go to my head. We were fighting every day, and I was pissed, she was pissed. It all went to hell before I even knew it.”

  She blinked several times, then rolled her eyes to the ceiling and blinked some more. Finally, she looked back at me. “What about the two girls in your bed? You were banging them while you were begging my best friend to give you a second chance.”

  I gripped my hair with my hands, pulling at the roots. How could I make her understand?

  “No, that’s not true,” I insisted. “Those girls were the reason I called Whitney. That’s why I fucked up so bad.”

  She looked at me, confused.

  Exhaling deeply, I began to pace the room. I stopped and turned to face Holly again. “I thought Ace was the shit, that he was the luckiest son of a bitch I’d ever met. Not a care in the world, woman crawling out of his ass…” I closed my eyes and cursed, “shit, sorry.”

  Holly waved her hand, telling me to go on.

  “Anyway, he was my hero so I thought he could do no wrong. And it was fun, you know, having women fawning all over me, having people think I was a big deal. I came from nothing. Nothing. And then suddenly…” I pushed a hand through my hair, “I was something.”

  Holly was blinking hard again, so I turned away and started pacing again.

  “But I swear to you… I never touched a woman while Whitney and I were together. I thought about it. I had woman jumping on my lap and trying to get in my pants, but I never touched them. Never. It wasn’t until weeks after Whitney left that I did anything.” I barked out a laugh. “Then I did everything. It was like I was trying to bang my brains out so I’d forget…”

  Shit. I so shouldn’t have said that. I glanced at Holly, but she was looking at me with some understanding.

  “But you couldn’t forget Whitney, could you?” she finished for me.

  I shook my head violently. “No. And the more I partied and the more people, women, I met, the emptier my life became. Those girls were the last straw. Every guy’s fantasy brought to life, and it meant nothing. And I realized I was doing what—” I stopped myself.