Wicked Curveball
by Macy Babineaux
Copyright © 2016 Macy Babineaux. All Rights Reserved.
1
Scully Capshaw walked down the well-worn cement steps with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He didn’t know how many times he’d walked down those steps, and he wasn’t particularly interested in doing the math. At thirty-eight, he was probably in his last year of minor league baseball, maybe his second-to-last. His knees were nearly shot, so they’d moved him from the outfield to first base two years ago. He could still crank one out of the park, though, and last year he’d been third in the league in extra base hits. That was the only reason he was still around. But not for much longer.
The locker room was empty. Scully always made sure he was the first one in and the last one out. Even so, the familiar smells of the locker room hit him, the salty, musty tang in the air, the aftermath of dirty, sweaty men. To nearly anyone else, it probably stank down here. But he figured he’d miss it when it was all over, and he wasn’t really sure what the hell he was going to do with himself.
He shuffled past the rows of lockers. His was in the back. When he turned the corner, he was surprised to see someone else. A tall, young guy stood shirtless at the locker next to his, his back rippled with muscle.
“Holy shit,” Scully said to himself. “It was true.”
The other guy heard him and turned. He was even more impressive from the front. Dark tousled hair, steely blue eyes, and a body right out of a fitness magazine. The guy was so damned good-looking and ripped, he made Scully wonder for a second whether he was imagining the whole thing. But then he spoke.
“Hey,” the other man said.
“You’re Bo Gannet,” Scully said.
The guy smiled, making him look even more good looking, if that was possible, and Scully kind of felt himself hating the guy, even though he was almost certainly headed for the Hall of Fame one day.
“Good to meet you, man,” Bo said, stepping around the bench and extending his hand.
Scully took it and shook, the guy’s grip like steel. “Scully,” he said. “I heard they were sending you down. But I thought it was just a dumb rumor. Everybody did.”
Bo shrugged. “Not a rumor, man. I’m definitely here.”
Bo Gannett was a rising star. Straight to the big league a year out of high school, and he was already putting up All-Star numbers.
“I don’t get it,” Scully said. “Why’d they bump you down to the minors? The papers said they did it because you needed work on the fundamentals.”
“Yeah,” Bo said, laughing and shaking his head. “That was the story all right.”
“Nobody believed that crap.”
Bo looked around. “Promise not to tell?”
Scully dropped his duffle bag to the floor. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“I, uh…kinda slept with Ivana Dezani.”
“Holy shit, man. The owner’s daughter? I’m surprised he didn’t kill you. Isn’t she still in high school?”
“No way,” Bo said. “The big man definitely would have killed me, or put me in jail. She’s nineteen. Ivana and me did it on his desk late after a game one night, in one of those boxes overlooking the stadium. We were actually on surveillance cameras.”
Scully whistled. “Jesus.” He didn’t know Bo Gannett, other than from reputation, but he believed every word. It made sense. “How’d they keep that out of the magazines?”
“Joe Dezani is a pretty influential guy. He hushed it up, shipped Ivana overseas, and knocked my ass down here.”
“Well, it’s not so bad,” Scully said. “I’ll show you around. Welcome to the Mustangs.”
“Thanks, man,” Bo said. They shook a second time.
Scully pointed at his locker behind Bo. “You mind?”
“Oh, sure,” Bo said, moving out of the way.
Scully sat on the bench and twirled the combination to his lock.
“Hey man,” Bo said. “You mind if I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“What happened to your nose?”
Scully laughed. “I’ve broken it four times.”
“No shit. How?”
“I always slide hard. And head first.”
“Damn, man.”
“Yeah, guess I’m a slow learner.”
“Gives you a pretty cool look, though. I mean tough,” Bo said. “You look like a boxer or something.”
“Yeah, well, I’d be happy to trade. You look like something out of a fancy cologne ad, and this mug,” Scully pointed at his face, “ain’t ever gonna get Ivana Dezani to spread her legs on her old man’s desk.”
They just looked at each other for a few seconds, then burst out laughing.
A sound came from the back of the locker room, and they both stopped laughing to look in that direction. Florescent lights flickered on in the back room, what the boys called “the spa,” the small office where minor cuts and sprains were tended to. A medical table stood in the middle, white cabinets lined the walls, and a heated whirlpool sat in one corner.
A pretty woman with a blond ponytail was hanging up her coat. She wore a green turtleneck and beige slacks, a plastic badge hanging from a lanyard.
“Who’s that?” Bo asked.
Scully laughed. “That’s Lucy.”
“She’s cute,” Bo said. “I mean, not amazing. But kind of girl-next-door, you know?”
Scully shook his head. “Man, you don’t learn so hot, do you?”
“What? She’s not the manager’s daughter or anything, is she?”
“No,” Scully said. “But she’s not gonna want anything to do with you.”
“Why’s that?”
Scully pulled off his sweatpants and tossed them in the locker. “Forget it.”
“Naw, tell me, man. What do you mean?”
Scully sighed, and turned to face Bo full on. “It’s just…she’s a nice girl. Sweet, smart, professional.”
“So, what? You’re saying a girl like that wouldn’t want to be with me? Brother, the girls you think are nice usually ain’t all that nice. And even if they were, I have yet to meet a girl I couldn’t charm into the sack.”
“Well there’s one you can’t,” Scully said. He turned back to this locker.
“Wanna bet?” Bo asked.
Scully looked back and raised an eyebrow. “You serious?”
“Sure,” Bo said. “A hundred bucks says I can get Miss Lucy’s panties off.”
Scully just stared at Bo with his eyebrow cocked. “I thought you were a big shot,” he finally said. “Why not make it a thousand?”
Bo laughed. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“You’ve got until they call you back up to the majors,” Scully said.
“Man, I won’t need that much time.”
Scully looked back at Lucy, writing something down on a clipboard. “Yeah you will.”
Bo looked into the mirror hanging in his locker and smoothed down a stray hair on his head. Then he winked at Scully. “Watch and learn, my new friend.”
The door to the clinic was open. As Bo approached, Lucy had her back to him. He gave a light knock on the door frame.
She turned. She was even prettier up close. Light blue eyes, a slender nose, a small but pretty mouth. She didn’t seem to be wearing much, if any, makeup, but she was beautiful anyway. She didn’t smile, though. All business.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Bo said. “Hi.” He usually wasn’t nervous around women. Why would he be? Most of the time he had them eating out of his hand. But for some reason, this girl made him feel self-conscious, right off the bat. Maybe it was simply because she didn’t seem intimidated by him at all. She didn’
t even seem to know who he was.
“I’m Bo,” he said. And when her eyes didn’t flicker in recognition he added: “Gannett.” Still just that flat, slightly curious stare. He coughed into his fist. “I’m new here, sent down from Houston.”
“You’re a player?” she asked.
Jesus, was she serious? What did he look like? And how did she not know who he was? Maybe she was just screwing with him. Either way, it was working.
“Some girls say that,” he said. She didn’t react, just gave him that flat stare. Damn.
“Yes, well, I’m a quite busy. Was there something I could help you with?”
He just stared at her for a few seconds. Man, she’d gotten him off his game. But then he remembered the plan, what he’d meant to do as he walked over here. He smiled. The ladies loved his smile. All white teeth.
“I’m having a little problem with stiffness,” he said.
“Where?” she asked.
Bo didn’t hesitate. With his confidence regained, he reached down, unzipped the fly of his jeans, and pulled himself, fully erect, out of his bikini briefs.
Lucy looked down at it, but didn’t bat an eyelash. “My, that is a problem,” she said. She put the clipboard down on the counter. She looked out the open clinic door. Scully sat on the bench by his locker, but he wasn’t looking this way. “Tell you what,” she said. “Go ahead and get the rest of those clothes off and lie down in the whirlpool over there. I’ll just make sure we have some privacy, and then I’ll join you in a minute.”
She winked at him. It was such a cute, unexpected little gesture, Bo felt himself stiffen even more. Well that was easy, he thought. For a minute there, he thought she was actually going to shoot him down. He’d almost feel bad taking Scully’s money, but not that bad.
Bo pulled his pants and underwear all the way off and went to lie down in the tub. He heard her close the door and pull the shades.
“Be right there,” she said in a low, sexy voice.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the curved edge of the hot tub. Being sent down to the minors sucked, but if it was going to happen, this was the way to do it. And tonight he’d just go out and smash a few balls over the wall, show these backwoods yokels how to—
The shock of a cold blast hit his crotch. Bo bolted upright, opening his eyes to see a small mountain of ice where his erection had been. Lucy was standing over him, a plastic yellow bucket in her hand, her brow furrowed.
He knocked away some of the ice and tried to scramble out of the tub, but he slipped and fell back down hard on his butt.
“That should help with the stiffness,” Lucy said.
Bo struggled frantically to get out of the tub, finally getting up enough to dump the rest of the ice off him, then jumping out like a cat that doesn’t want a bath. He stood next to the tub, rubbing his hands on his genitals, trying to warm them.
“What the hell was that?” he said. “Are you crazy?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” she said. “Does whipping it out like that ever actually work?”
He paused, looked at her, then nodded. “Yeah.”
Lucy sighed and put the bucket down in the corner. “Sadly, I believe you.” She picked up her clipboard. “That was mildly entertaining, but I’m afraid I really do have a lot of work to do. If you have an actual medical issue, be sure to let me know.”
She cocked her eyebrows at the door and nodded.
Bo couldn’t believe it. He pulled on his briefs, nearly falling over again, then grabbed the rest of his clothes and headed for the door. As he opened it, he saw Scully look up, a smile spreading across his face.
Bo pointed at Scully. “Shut up. Just don’t say a word.”
Scully didn’t. He just began to laugh.
2
Lucy took the back way out of the locker room and headed for the concession center, the green wood shack located right under the center field bleachers. The plywood windows were still lowered. The gates still weren’t open, and the game wouldn’t start for another couple of hours, but she found the skinny young black woman crouched over an aluminum carrying box with “HOT DOGS” stenciled across the side. She had a hose in one hand, and was washing out the box.
“Jackie?” Lucy said.
The young woman looked over her shoulder and smiled. She had a beautiful smile. Her hair was in small dreadlocks, bunched up together in a kind of ponytail.
“Hey girl,” Jackie said. “Almost done. Then we can…” She pointed up at the rafters.
This was their pre-game ritual. Lucy remembered the exact day she’d met Jackie, nearly two years before. Lucy had forgotten to pack a lunch, and she’d been starving. On the way to her car she’d run into a hot dog girl who said she’d give out a sample for free.
“Kind of like a drug dealer?” Lucy had said, immediately regretting it. She’d been trying to be funny, but was that racist?
But the girl had just laughed, and infectious giggle, and said, “Yeah, just like a drug dealer. Once I’ve got you hooked, I’m gonna hike up the price.”
They’d been friends ever since, and a new ritual had been born.
Jackie stood up. She wore the blue and white jersey with the red head of a mustang on the front, the hem hanging over faded jeans. She somehow made the outfit look sexy.
“Let me just grab a couple of fresh dogs out of the bin,” Jackie said, opening the door to the green hut.
“I’ve got a pretty good story,” Lucy said.
Jackie paused with her hand on the door and made her mouth into an “O”. “Ooh, juicy,” she said. “I better hurry then.”
She emerged with two dogs wrapped in foil. She handed one to Lucy. “Relish, onions, and lots of ketchup,” she said, making a face. “Girl, I don’t know how you eat them like that. All I need is a little mustard.”
“My dad used to fix them for me that way when he took me to the games,” Lucy said. Maybe Jackie heard the tinge of sadness in her voice, because she didn’t ask about him, figuring Lucy would tell her if she wanted to.
Instead, they headed for the stairs up to the bleachers and walked all the way up to row fifty-five in silence. They sat, unwrapped their dogs, and each took a bite.
The afternoon was beautiful. The sun hid just behind a few soft clouds. The field was freshly-mowed, the smell of cut grass filling the air. Milo, the head groundskeeper, was raking the dirt between second and third. He looked up at them, leaning on the rake, and waved. They waved back.
“So what’s all this about a story?” Jackie said.
Lucy took a deep breath, then let out a little laugh. “Some new guy just hit on me downstairs.”
“Well that’s not exactly news,” Jackie said. “Half the team hit on you when you first started.”
“Yeah, but this one just flopped it out in front of me.”
“It? You mean?”
“Yeah,” Lucy said, laughing. “That was a new one for me.”
“What did you do?”
“I dumped a bucket of ice on it.”
Jackie’s eyes widened, then she laughed too. “No.”
“Yep.” Lucy took another bit of the dog and swallowed. “That cooled him down.”
“What’s his name?”
“Bo something.”
Jackie froze. She grabbed Lucy’s forearm. “Bo Gannet?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“You just got hit on by the most talented rookie in fifty years?”
“If his name was Bo Gannett, then yes.”
“And he showed you his package?”
“Yes, Jackie. He did.”
Jackie put her hand up to her forehead and leaned back. “Oh dear God,” she said. “Why couldn’t I be you for today? Not only is that boy an incredible athlete, he’s fine as hell. You turned him down?”
“Yep.”
“Because he was a little aggressive?”
“Jackie, a pit bull with rabies is a little aggressive. This guy just whipped it out and
wanted to have sex in the therapeutic tub.”
“That sounds pretty hot to me,” Jackie said. She shook her head. “And you shot him down.”
“Yep.”
“You know, Lucy, a little romance every once in a while wouldn’t kill you.”
“This guy wasn’t interested in romance. And seriously, how much do you think the team would respect the first female trainer they’ve ever had if she started sleeping around with the players?”
“Yeah, I know. You’re right.” Jackie took another bite of hot dog. She had mustard on her upper lip. “Still. Damn, girl. Bo Gannett.”
“I don’t care if it was Alex Rodriguez,” Lucy said. “If he pulls that thing out in front of me again, I might just break it off.”
They both laughed. Then they finished the last bites of their dog, wiped their hands, and stood up.
“Seriously, though,” Jackie said. “What did it look like?”
3
The Mustangs played the Gators that night to a lackluster crowd. Bo started in left field. Lucy watched the game from the doorway next to the dugout. She leaned against the frame, her medical bag at her feet, ready to run onto the field if there were any injuries.
There weren’t. Unless you counted injuries to Bo’s pride.
She thought Jackie was right. He looked very fine in the Mustangs’ uniform, his upper body filling out the jersey nicely, the red head of the horse stretched out on his chest. He was ripped and handsome. Too bad he was a jackass.
And whether it was karma or he’d just been rattled by being shot down one of the few times in his life, and the first since making it to the majors, Bo Gannett had one of the worst baseball games of his life.
He committed an error in the first inning, misjudging an easy fly to left field. The ball hit the heel of his glove, then popped out. The runner had been trotting to first, expecting the ball to be caught. But when he saw Bo drop it, he sprinted for first. The hit was shallow, and should still have been a relatively easy out. Bo had an arm like a rocket. But when he picked up the ball and fired his cannon at first, the ball went ten feet over the first-baseman’s head and into the dugout. The runner advanced to second, and Bo got an E on the scorecard, his first in two years.
Wicked Curveball Page 1