Bottom of the Ninth: Seattle Skookums Baseball (Game On in Seattle Book 6)

by Jami Davenport

  Zeke nursed his beer and laughed when everyone else laughed, trying like hell to be a good teammate. Maybe some team bonding could improve his game. Maybe he’d feel more connected to the city and the guys and become more invested. He’d been invested with his old team, but that hadn’t pulled him out of the slump he’d gotten into last year and stayed in ever since.

  Rex watched a couple hot women walk by and winked at them. They giggled and winked back. “Hey, ladies,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat.

  Their hips swayed as they walked toward a nearby table. The blonde glanced over her shoulder and tossed her hair.

  Only Rex wasn’t grinning. Instead his face went blank as he stared at something over Zeke’s shoulder. “Holy fucking shit.”

  By now everyone looked to see what had Rex’s attention. Zeke blinked a few times, reading the ticker running below the two sportscasters sitting at their desk discussing something.

  “Fuck,” Manny said and followed it up with some choice Spanish cuss words.

  Seattle Skookums have been sold to group of Seattle businessmen spearheaded by IT mogul Scott Decker.

  “Scott Decker?” Manny’s face was downright solemn, as if he were in a funeral parlor, not a bar. “The guy known for his ruthless business dealings? The one who takes no prisoners?”

  “Yeah, shoots first, asks questions later. That’s the guy.”

  “He’s an asshole. Everyone who works for him hates him.”

  “But he’s brilliant and driven.”

  “We’re in deep shit, boys.” Rex stated the obvious everyone else was thinking. Heads would roll, and who would be the first to go?

  Zeke sure as hell hoped it wasn’t him.

  Chapter 10—Bunting

  Zeke gave up on sleep at 5:00 a.m. After brewing a strong cup of coffee in his Keurig, he threw on a sweatshirt and walked outside to the deck. The crisp morning air shocked his body awake.

  He couldn’t come to terms with all the crap swirling around in his brain. Paisley. The team. His brothers. He didn’t fucking know where to start. Avoidance became his MO on all three fronts.

  The team had been sold, and he was screwed. He couldn’t shake a nagging feeling of foreboding.

  “Don’t you ever answer your door?”

  Zeke turned at the sound of his agent’s voice, not the least bit surprised to find the man on his deck at sunrise holding a steaming mug of Tully’s Coffee stolen from Zeke’s caffeine stash.

  “Don’t you ever call first?”

  “Nope.”

  “What if I was entertaining some hot babe?”

  “You never entertain hot babes in your own home.”

  Zeke conceded that one. The few girlfriends he’d had over the years, he’d gone to their places. He knew none of them would be a permanent fixture in his life, so why let them get a foothold in his house and make it super messy when they parted ways?

  “Speaking of hot babes, how’s it going with your insta-family?”

  “They are not my insta-family.”

  “They were at the game several nights ago.”

  “You don’t miss anything, do you? So you know they were there, too?”

  “Yes, I know.” Al avoided his gaze.

  “What is it, Al? I know that look. Something’s up.”

  “You overestimate your ability to figure me out. I’m too complicated.”

  Zeke snorted. “Cut the crap. Why are you here? Are they sending me to Triple-A or cutting me or what?”

  Al laughed. “None of the above.”

  Zeke relaxed a little. “Then you haven’t talked with the new ownership?”

  “Oh, I’ve talked to them. Multiple times. Decker is one ruthless, driven bastard. I like that in a man.” Al grinned.

  “So you do know something?”

  Al leaned back in the patio chair and stretched, sipped his coffee, and checked his cell.

  “Quit stalling.”

  Al heaved a put-upon sigh. “Decker has a vision for this team that goes beyond the ballpark. He wants the team to be ingrained in every household in the Pacific Northwest as a daily staple. He’s not going to leave any stone unturned, and he wants his players out there and visible.”

  “I’m more of a low-key guy.” Zeke wasn’t feeling too good about this.

  “You’d better turn it up a notch.” He leaned forward, his shrewd eyes narrowed. “The gay rumors are resurfacing. You’ve been photographed out with Fernando several times and the pics are damning.”

  Zeke snorted. “It’s not like we were kissing or holding hands. Just two guys hanging out and watching sports in a bar. The press will twist anything any way they can.”

  “And they are twisting it.”

  “Hey, I don’t care if they think I’m gay. So what?” Zeke shrugged. Hell, he’d come out if he were really gay. Maybe he should anyway. That’d add a whole cord of wood to that fire. Zeke might zealously guard his reputation and his image, but being gay wasn’t something he would necessarily advertise or conceal. It would be part of a personal life he already kept obsessively private.

  The gay rumors regarding Zeke had started back in high school. He’d never been much of a horndog. He left that up to his brothers. He’d been studious, quiet, and a loner driven to succeed and prove the old man wrong.

  When the rumors resurfaced every now and then because of his close friendship with Fernando, Zeke did nothing to alleviate them. In fact, he enjoyed them. First of all, he didn’t care if people thought he was gay. Secondly, he knew it would piss his homophobic father off big-time, which was worth more than the price of admission.

  When reporters asked the question, he’d give the same answer, no comment, followed by a sly smile. Oh, yeah, he was feeding that fire, stoking it with large chunks of wood and watching it ignite the old man’s temper. Even though they hadn’t been in contact in four years, Zeke knew his abusive asshole of a father paid attention to every nuance of his boys’ careers and basked in the glory of their accomplishments. After all, they were all he had. He most likely sat in the bar with his cronies all night, bitching and boasting about them. Having three sons in professional sports would certainly give the douche bragging rights with his loser buddies. The thought of being used in such a way by the man he despised made him want to retch.

  “This is a problem for you and Fernando.”

  “How so?”

  “Decker wants both of you to come out.”

  Zeke choked on his water. “We can’t come out of the closet if we aren’t in it.”

  “I know that. You know that. Seattle is a liberal city with a healthy gay population. The Skookums want to be the front-runner in recognizing and celebrating gay athletes.”

  “There has to be more to it than that,” Zeke guessed.

  “Probably. This team is grasping at anything that’ll sell tickets and raise its social media profile.”

  “Ah, shit. So this is for publicity?” Zeke laughed, then sobered and rubbed his chin. The idea had merit. His old man would shit a brick, and his brothers—he had no clue what they’d do. Only he’d be lying, and he didn’t want to lie about something as big as that. It diminished the real struggle gay athletes faced every day. The last thing he would do is come out and disrespect the entire community.

  “I have my standards, my morals. I’m not lying about a thing like that to help this team get some press.”

  Al shook his head. “You’re in an odd position. They aren’t going to believe you unless they see you all kissy-faced and in love with a woman.”

  Zeke snorted. “I’ve never been like that.”

  “Thus, the gay rumors.” Al grinned his ruthless gangster grin.

  Zeke ran his hands through his hair and breathed in a long breath. “I’m not being dishonest.”

  “Fuck, Zeke, the moral high road won’t get you anywhere.”

  “Yeah, it will. I have self-respect.”

  “All right then. Think of Fernando.”

  “He’s not gay, eithe
r.”

  Al’s black brows crept up into his shaggy hair. “Are you so sure of that?”

  “Absolutely.” He and Fernando had never been anything but the closest of friends. Never once had Fernando treated him as anything but a buddy.

  As if on cue, Fernando appeared from the house carrying his own steaming mug of coffee and sat next to them. Zeke frowned at him. “What’re you doing here?”

  “He’s my agent, too. He invited me here. Seems like we have a vexing problem.”

  “Vexing? Who says that? Have you been reading dictionaries again?”

  Fernando shrugged.

  “I’m not lying for this team. Hell, I wouldn’t lie for the Yankees or if you guaranteed me a World Series.”

  “Yes, Mother Teresa, we know all about your image as a straight shooter. Straight, get it?” Fernando elbowed Zeke and threw back his head to laugh uproariously. Al joined in. Zeke did not.

  “Look, you two idiots, this isn’t exactly funny.”

  Al wiped at his cheek. “Oh, hell yes, it is.”

  Zeke rolled his eyes and turned to his buddy. “You shouldn’t be laughing. They want both of us to come out.”

  Fernando sobered, and a deep frown creased his face. “My father is a minister in Mexico. My mother is staunchly religious. My grandmother is not well. I’m the oldest and only son with six sisters. A thing like this would push Grandmother into her grave before her maker calls. We need to dispel the rumors and get the team off our back.”

  “Is that what you want, too, Zeke?” Al asked.

  Zeke cast a glance into the troubled brown eyes of his friend. The sheer desperation shining there gave him pause. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “What do we need to do?”

  “Get a serious girlfriend and fast. Both of you. I can find you a suitable woman if needed.”

  Fernando nodded. “I would appreciate that. I choose poorly.”

  Al turned to Zeke. “Oh, no. No way are you picking a woman for me. I’ll find my own.”

  “You have a week to come up with a suitable woman, or I’ll find one for you.” Al grinned his most evil, calculating smile, the one that made Zeke nervous as hell.

  “Fine. I will.”

  Al smirked, not believing him for a second.

  “Don’t even consider it,” Zeke warned.

  “What?” Al was all innocence, like a viper in a rabbit hutch.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “She’s perfect. And with those kids. You’ll be the family man of the year.”

  “I’m not father material. Trust me on this.”

  “You’re great with kids.”

  “I don’t even like kids.”

  Fernando watched the two of them like he was watching Wimbledon. His knowing smirk gave Zeke pause.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Fernando said innocently. The man was anything but innocent.

  “You’re dying to say something.”

  “You like kids. You may not want to like kids, but you do.”

  Zeke opened his mouth to protest but snapped it shut again. “You’re fucking crazy.”

  “I’ve been told that before.”

  Zeke sighed. “I’ll come up with something. Paisley is off-limits.”

  Both Fernando and Al exchanged glances and laughed as if they knew something he didn’t.

  Unfortunately, he knew what they knew. He had a thing for Paisley. He couldn’t act on it because he couldn’t drag her into his personal drama, nor did he want her to deal with his baggage.

  * * * *

  Zeke couldn’t sleep, and he desperately needed someone to talk to. He’d never felt lonelier in his twenty-four years.

  Zeke had spent the last two nights living at the ballpark and avoiding Paisley. He had to come home to sleep, of course, though he’d considered bunking with Fernando until he could get his head on straight where she was concerned. In the wake of the gay rumors, Fernando was having none of that. In fact, he’d been showing up everywhere with a Steelheads-cheerleader-wannabe-model who sat right behind home plate during one game he’d pitched, wearing his jersey. She was Al’s hired girlfriend and she was as shallow as a mud puddle during a Seattle drought. Zeke didn’t understand why Fernando didn’t find his own girlfriend unless—

  Zeke refused to believe his buddy was gay. Fernando would’ve told him.

  Zeke continued to play like crap, and he suspected the Skookums’ new management was wondering if he was worth hanging on to. Meanwhile, in forty-eight hours they’d cleaned house from the GM to the lowliest coach. They were all gone. In their places, they hired an unorthodox coach from their farm team, a new batting coach who’d been a legendary designated hitter, and a GM with oddly progressive ideas. Zeke couldn’t decide if Scott Decker was brilliant or an idiot.

  The team would fly out on another road trip after their day off tomorrow. Zeke was looking forward to getting out of town. The fans had started to boo him whenever he came up to bat. He tried not to let their disdain affect him, but he wasn’t having much success. They were in his head as much as Paisley was.

  Alberto Jarez, the new batting coach, was all over his ass. The guy was a downright nag and wanted to change up everything, from his stance to the position of his head and feet in the batting cage. Zeke felt like he was back in Little League. The guy was a jerk, but Zeke prided himself on being coachable and tried to incorporate his changes. The results were another crappy game and being benched tonight halfway through the third inning. Alberto demanded he stick with it, as it’d take a few games to adjust at a minimum. Everything felt awkward and out of sync. He’d have been more comfortable if they’d forced him to bat right-handed, considering he was a lefty all the way, despite how much his father had tried to change his preference, even going as far as tying his left hand to his side so he had to use his right hand. Even worse, his brothers had waited for him outside the locker room. He’d dodged them by taking a different exit and sneaking away like a coward.

  Just as he was about to admit defeat and invite himself downstairs for popcorn and a movie, his cell rang. It was Bella, Fernando’s neighbor, sister-in-law to his brothers, and a friend. Bella was engaged to a Swedish hockey player who happened to be a teammate of his brother Isaac. No six degrees of separation here.

  The Sockeyes hockey team had missed the playoffs by one game, and he’d assumed she’d be somewhere warm and exotic with Cedric.

  Zeke recognized the danger in rekindling his friendship with Bella, but he was too lonely tonight to give a shit. If he didn’t do something safe and sane, he’d be prowling the yard itching to see Paisley.

  “Zeke? How are you?”

  “Good. I’m good.”

  “Sorry about tonight, but you’ll get it together. Baseball is a game of streaks.”

  “Yeah, yeah, it is.”

  He had the uneasy feeling this wasn’t just a social call. “So what’s up?”

  “Cedric is at a team charity function, and I didn’t feel like going, but now I’m bored. Would you like to meet for a drink? I wanted to talk to you about something anyway.”

  “Uh, sure. In fact, I have a question for you, too.” Bella knew everyone. She’d probably know of a nice, sane woman to play the part of his girlfriend for a month or so. Preferably one who attended church every Sunday with no dirt to dig up. Then again, Bella’s friends weren’t exactly the churchgoing types.

  He picked her up outside the condo building she lived in with Cedric, the same one Fernando lived in. They drove a few blocks to a quiet neighborhood bar and both ordered a beer. Bella chitchatted about the charity work she was doing with abused and battered women, and he listened with interest. He had the utmost respect for Bella. She’d been attacked several months ago, beaten, and almost raped. She was still recovering, but she was a fighter, and she had a devoted man in her corner.

  Zeke had once harbored a tiny crush on her, but when it came down to it, she and Cedric were meant for each other.

  “So, y
ou first,” Bella said. “What do you need?”

  “I need a fake girlfriend. A really nice girl with no history to take to events and be seen at games. No sex, just a business arrangement. Do you know anyone?”

  Bella’s eyebrows arched. “Why don’t you just get a girlfriend?”

  “I don’t know anyone right now, and I need one right away.”

  “Why?”

  “The team thinks Fernando and I are boyfriends. They want us to come out.”

  “Are you?” She cocked her pretty head and arched a brow at him.

  “No.” He sounded too defensive, but he was sick of this bullshit. Even if they’d been boyfriends, it wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs.

  “Then why do you give a shit?”

  One thing he loved about this woman was her directness. She called a spade a spade.

  “Fernando gives a shit, and he needs my help. He’s trying to dispel the gay rumors,” Zeke told Bella.

  “But he is gay.” She looked at him as if he were all kinds of an idiot.

  Zeke rubbed his cheek, which stung as though she had slapped him in the face. “No, he’s not. I’d know if he were.” He shook his head, even as his mind went in reverse, playing back moments that had raised questions, while he’d refused to read anything into them.

  “Seriously? Who’s lived on the same floor as him for months?”

  “Uh, you.”

  “Trust me, he’s gay, and I believe he has a steady boyfriend. I see the same guy in and out all the time. He might even live there.”

  “So he has a roommate.”

  “Zeke, I caught them checking each other for tonsils in the elevator one day.”

  “So they looked in each other’s mouths?”

  “No, they checked with their tongues.”

  Zeke shook his head. He would know if Fernando was gay. They’d been friends since they were eighteen-year-old kids in the minors, good guys drawn together because they weren’t into partying or whoring around. They spent their spare time hanging out, playing cards, competing at video games, and talking about anything and everything. Well, not exactly everything if Bella knew what she was talking about.