“How about your hat, I still have that by the way. I’ll trade you it – your hat for my shoe.”
“Nah, I don’t need that back, I’ve got tons. I’d rather you keep it so I can picture you wearing it. Try again.”
She frowned and crossed her arms. “My undying gratitude?”
He made a show of considering her request. “I think you can do better.” He tapped his cheek and held it out to her.
She rolled her eyes and moved to plant her lips on his cheek. At the last minute he turned his head and instead of touching the side of his face, Mel found herself lip locked with the infamous Los Angeles Lion’s pitcher.
“Ah, much better.” He handed her the shoe.
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and leaned in close to her ear. “You look stunning in that outfit, by the way. And the way you shake your head at me. . .” He grinned at her skeptical look. “You remind me of my big toe.”
She scrunched her nose at him. “Your big toe? Why?”
He leaned in close to her ear and lowered his voice. “Because I’m going to bang you on my coffee table tonight.”
Before she could form a proper retort, he swept her into the restaurant. Wait staff fussed over them as soon as they saw the famous Jett Gorski, falling all over themselves to attend to his needs. Jett smiled and signed autographs, then asked for his usual private room. A giggly girl directed them around to a small room filled with flowers and an ornate fountain in a corner. While the table was set beautifully with elegant silver place settings, long white candles in intricate silver holders, a bottle of wine chilling in an antique looking silver wine cooler filled with ice, it was still overshadowed by the fountain in the corner.
“Well isn’t that…interesting.” Mel almost felt inappropriate for looking at it.
“What, you don’t like it? I think it’s beautiful, unique.” Jett chuckled, clearly amused at her discomfort.
“Well, seeing a naked woman was not entirely what I had in mind when I agreed to dinner at Chez Monique.” Mel instantly regretted her word choice.
“Funny, I had just the opposite thought.” Jett leaned down into her ear and lowered his voice. “Seeing a naked woman was just what I had in mind.”
Yup. She walked right into that one. It was obvious that Jett wasn’t talking about the statue in the fountain. The full frontal, fully nude statue of a woman with her ankles crossed, head tossed back, and arms outstretched to the sides. And even though he was a complete ass, she couldn’t stop the ripple of heat that coursed through her body.
“Well, I guess neither of us is getting what we expected tonight then.” Mel shot him a saucy smile, and a small burst of laughter erupted from his lips. “Oh, we’ll see about that. The night is still young.” Jett pulled out Mel’s chair and gestured for her to sit, helping to push her chair back in once she did.
Walking around the table, Jett took the only other chair at the small, round table, sitting across from Mel. As soon as he was seated the giggly girl was practically in his lap, menus in hand.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Jett said as she placed his menu on the table.
“Oh, no problem at all.” She giggled as he touched her arm and slid her gaze down to his hips. “If you should need anything else—”
Mel cleared her throat, drawing the bimbo’s attention away from her date. The woman smiled and leaned forward as she placed a menu before Mel.
“When you are done with him,” she whispered. “Let me know.”
Mel scowled at the redhead as she bounced from the room.
“Is everything okay?” Jett asked.
“Peachy.” Mel shook off the jealousy and opened her menu. Scanning the overly fancy lettering that was filled with so many swirls and swishes it was almost illegible, she found the ridiculously overpriced chicken dinner Liv had spoken of. But in fact, it was one of the least expensive items on the menu.
“I was told I just had to try the roast chicken. Liv insists.” Mel smiled inwardly. She wouldn’t tell him it was because she was dying to know what $200 chicken tasted like.
Jett shook his head. “There are much better items on the menu; the Foie gras is the best in the city.”
“I think I’ll pass.” Mel continued to read her menu as their waitress returned to the room. Didn’t she -just- leave?
“Are you ready to order, Mr. Gorski?”
Jett, without even looking at the menu in his hands, spoke to the waitress “We’ll have the Wild Fijian albacore sashimi with pea tendril salad to start. Can you bring that out while we go over the rest of the menu? I think the lady here needs a little more time.”
“Oh, of course, Mr. Gorski. Anything for you.” She batted her eyes so hard Mel thought she was going to flick her obviously false lashes right off.
“The lady,” she cleared her throat, “can speak for herself, and is ready to order, thankyouverymuch.” She turned to the waitress. “I’ll have the roast chicken.” Mel shortened the title of the dish by a good seven superfluous adjectives when ordering. “With the baked brie to start.” Mel shut her menu with a little more gusto than was needed, placing it on the edge of the table.
“Yes, of course, ma’am.” The waitress scribbled in her notebook, barely even looking at Mel, her attention always on Jett. “And for you?” More eyelash batting.
Ma’am? Bitch.
“I’ll have the beef tenderloin.”
“Medium-rare, as always?” She asked. “You know me so well.” He smiled up at her and the girl nearly drooled, spinning on her heel she started back out of the room. “I’ll be right back with those appies!”
***After placing the appetizers on the table, the waitress brushed her fingers over Jett’s arm, and he flashed her a seductive smile. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He found that a little seduction could go a long way. While he didn’t particular care to start anything with the wait staff, he knew that a casual smile or wink would get both him and Mel a little extra from the red head, and Jett wanted to make sure that everything was perfect. He just wanted to show Mel a good time. And after spending his whole life in and out of foster care to become a pro baseball player, he had learned the hard way that most people’s affection needed to be bought in one form or another. Money talks, and before he had any he perfected being charming. With no real family to speak of it was how he survived.
“Anytime, darling.” She blew him a kiss and sauntered from the room.
“That’s it.” Mel put down her fork and pushed her chair away from the table.
“What are you doing? We haven’t even started the appetizer.”
“And we won’t. At least I won’t.” She stood and grabbed her white, fringed clutch.
“You can’t leave yet.”
“Watch me.”
He placed his hand on her arm, stopping her retreat. “Please.”
“No, we’re done.” She jerked her elbow from his grasp. “I can’t stay with someone who is such an egotistical ass.”
“I’m not—”
She turned to face him. “I decided to go out on a date with you because I wanted to get to know the real you.”
He held his hands out to the sides. “This is the real me, baby.”
“No, it isn’t. I don’t know what this is, but it isn’t you. I saw a glimpse of you when I first came to on that sidewalk. Your concern was genuine, and you weren’t putting on some show. This. . .” She waved her hand around them. “This is a show. You can’t tell me that you feel comfortable here.”
“I have a reputation—”
“Oh stop. Please, just stop.” She turned her back to him. “I’ve heard enough.
“Wait.” He grabbed her shoulder and turned her back to face him. “Don’t go.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”
Jett glanced around the room and then refocused on her.
“You’re right.” He threw down some bills on the table.
�
�Right about what?”
“Everything.” He took her hand. “Come on.”
Jett’s heart raced as he steered her through the restaurant and out the front door. Bypassing the limo, he hailed down a taxi and ushered her inside.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace where I feel more myself.” He turned to the driver. “Lion’s Stadium, please.”
Chapter 6
Jett paid the taxi driver and helped Mel out of the car.
"Is that the stadium?" she asked as he put his arm around her.
"Yup."
"Are we going there?"
"In a minute. I want to show you something first." He led her down one of the side streets next to the stadium, where a long line of convenience stores, gift shops and other touristy spots were located.
"This is it," he said, stopping in front of one store.
"The Pennywise?" she asked.
Jett's had felt increasingly nervous ever since he had made the decision to come to this store. It was so much a part of him, of his past. She had wanted to know the real him, and this was as real as it got. Once they walked in together, there would be no turning back.
He fought the sudden urge to steer her away from this place full of secrets, to take her back to Chez Monique, which was much more familiar ground. Jett knew what to do back there. He could slip into his easy smile like a kids' costume on Halloween and charm the panties off every woman in the place.
He'd also keep feeling alone. After years and years of pretending to be the person everyone wanted to see--the playboy, the billionaire, the star pitcher, he found that no one knew the real him. Not even his limo driver Vince, a long-time friend who knew his preferences better than most. No, Vince didn't know the real him. No one did. Except one.
And for some reason he couldn’t explain, Jett wanted Melody to know the real him, too.
"This is it," he said, steering her into the door. A bell over the entrance chimed, and a large, balding man with crooked teeth and piercing blue eyes poked his head up from underneath the register counter.
"Jett, my boy. How are you?" He smoothed his hands through his gray hair--what was left of it-- and rounded the counter toward them. "You never visit no more."
"I've been busy." Jett pulled away from Mel and shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Not too busy for Papi, eh?" The man hobbled over and gave him a gigantic bear hug. "I've been following you in the papers. You pitched a no-hitter last night."
"Yeah, yeah. It's all fluff stuff."
"That's your Pops talking."
"Your Pops?" Mel asked.
Jett flashed her a sheepish look. "The head of the orphanage where I grew up, Mr. Dresmitt. He insisted that all of the kids called him Pops as if we were some big happy family."
"Wonderful, charitable soul, but he was wrong about you." The man pointed a finger at Jett. "He thought you pursuing baseball would be a waste of time. It's just too bad that he died before you could prove him wrong.” The storekeeper crossed himself. "May he rest in peace."
"Amen," Jett said, crossing himself before he realized what he was doing. Some habits died hard. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at Mel, hoping she didn't notice. She did.
"You were adopted?" she asked.
"Bah, he was never adopted. Those crazy parents wanted cute babies to fill their arms. None of them saw your potential." He touched the side of his nose. "But we did."
"Mr. Greisman here used to help at the orphanage, too."
"That's right, until my back gave out and I couldn't play with the kids no more. The best part of my job was playing with the kids." He smiled at Jett. "I taught this bad boy how to pitch. Did a mighty fine job of it, if I do say so myself." The man squeezed Jett's arms and nodded toward Mel. "You finally settling down, eh? Finally taking old Papi's advice."
"Nah, Mel is just a friend. I'm showing her around."
"Well," the man said, dropping his arms. "Any friend of Jetty is a friend of mine." He slapped Jett's arm. "Come on, I'll get you two some hot dogs, on the house."
"Jetty?" Mel grinned as they followed Mr. Greisman to the counter.
Jett slid into the seat. "All of the people who ran the orphanage considered us a family. We were all to call them by family names. Mr. Dresmitt was Pops. . ." Jett nodded to the store clerk, making hot dogs. "And he was Papi. There was also Aunt Jessie and Aunt Bree."
"Sounds like a nice childhood."
Jett cleared his throat as Papi gave them their hot dogs. "We did the best we could, darlin'. Most of those kids were too broken when they came to us. Beyond repair. Some of them, though. . ." he waved his hand at Jett. "Some of them made us proud."
"It was nothin’.'"
"No boy. You're really something."
Jett felt the heat rise to his cheeks and decided to focus on his hot dog.
"What else can you tell me about Jett's childhood?"
Jett tried to remain calm and not choke on his food as Papi relayed story after story about how he had gotten in trouble as a kid. Mel laughed at how Jett had rigged a bucket of water over the entrance to the orphanage to fall on the staff as they came into work, but how a malfunction caused it to drop on him instead. She grinned at his dressing up as Spiderman and snorted when she heard about how he would try to con the other kids out of their desserts. The stories were rather embarrassing, but she didn't seem repulsed by them like he thought she would be. Instead, she seemed . . . happy. Watching her smile made him happy, and before long, Jett found himself joining in and telling stories, too.
"The best part was always the yearly field trip to a baseball game," Papi said. "The other kids just wanted to eat peanuts and popcorn and run around the stadium, but Jett." he grinned as his eyes fogged over with memory. "Jett would stare wide-eyed at the game." He let out a sigh of contentment. "He wanted to know everything about the game, and I decided that it was time to teach him how to play."
"That's amazing."
"the boy was relentless, eager to learn all of the rules and statistics." Papi leaned in close to Mel. "He'd be outside practicing his pitching well past curfew."
"Did he ever get in trouble?" Mel asked as she glanced at Jett.
"Not really," Jett said. "I had someone covering for me."
"Damn straight," Papi said, grinning.
Jett wiped his mouth. "Thanks so much for the dogs." He reached for his wallet.
"Oh no. Your money’s no good here, boy."
"Come on, Papi."
"No." he held up his hands. "No, you're my boy, even if you aren't my blood and family is family. It's on the house."
"Thank you," Mel said, standing. "This has been very . . . enlightening."
"Glad I could help." Papi winked. "Come back anytime. Just make sure you bring that big lug with you."
"Bye Papi." Jett gave him a quick hug over the counter as tears stung in his eyes. When he pulled away, he noticed that the big man's eyes were all red and puffy.
"Don't be a stranger now, you hear?"
"I won't be." He put his arm around Melody. "Night."
Melody was strangely quiet as they made their way across the street and toward the stadium. Jett thought about saying something, but he didn't know what.
"I'm sorry," he finally said as he opened the side door to the stadium and slipped inside.
"For what?"
Jett waved to a group of stadium workers, finishing up their shift. "We'll just be a minute."
They waved him on, and Jett led her to the elevators.
"Sorry for what?" Mel asked again as they got into the elevator.
Jett hit the button for the second floor. "For the visit. It obviously upset you. . ."
"Don't be silly. Of course it didn't upset me."
"You seemed so quiet."
"I was thinking."
"And your frown—"
"I always frown when I think. It's instinctive." The elevator stopped on the second floor, and they stepped out. Jett navigat
ed the hallways, leading her out onto the bleacher seats.
"What were you thinking?" he asked as they made their way through the bleachers.
"I was thinking about how rough you had it as a kid."
Jett pulled away from her and started walking toward the second to last row of seats. "Yeah, well, we didn't have a lot of money, but as you can tell, the staff made up for it with kindness." He moved to one of the seats and motioned her to sit next to him.
"And love." When Jett gave her a sharp look, she explained. "That man loved you back there. You could see it in his eyes."
"Maybe." Jett sniffed and looked away. Truth was he loved Papi, too, but could never admit it. Admitting that he cared about someone was like admitting he had a weakness, one that could be exploited and hurt him. Jett had been hurt enough in his past and went to great lengths so that the pain he felt as a kid would never touch him again.
“He does love you. You were really blessed.”
Jett snorted and toyed with some dirt on the arm rest. “Blessed, yeah.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was blessed all right.” He shook his head. “Papi likes to romanticize what it was like. While the staff was nice to us and wanted us to think of them as a family, we all knew that they went home at the end of their shift to their real families. We were just their job.
“Jett—”
“They meant well. And they sure did try hard, but it wasn’t the same, Mel. You couldn’t’ possibly understand unless you’ve been there.” He cleared his throat as a particularly painful memory flashed through his mind.
“This was where you sat, wasn’t it? When you were a kid.”
“Yeah.” His voice was thick with emotion. He could remember every game as if it was yesterday. “Some of my best memories are up here in the bleachers. Sad, eh?”
“Not sad,” she said, taking his arm. “But sweet.”
He snorted. “They were doing their fucking job, Mel. Punching the clock. Sometimes we could go around pretending that we were family, like when the local team would spring to have us at these games. But the kids always knew that it wasn’t real.”
She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Of course it was real.”
Pursued by the Player (Black Towers Book 3) Page 5