Inside Heat

by Roz Lee

  Coffee was first on the agenda, then breakfast. Lying awake most of the night, she’d come to a conclusion. She’d keep her insecurities to herself. That meant acting as if nothing had happened. And in truth, nothing had. She’d played the evening over and over again in her mind, and though she’d been hurt by Jeff’s behavior, she wasn’t sure he was even aware of what he’d done. That didn’t make it hurt any less. If anything, it made it worse. If Jeff didn’t know he’d hurt her, then that in itself told a story. Her feelings were one-sided. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but really, it was her own fault. She’d come into this relationship with nothing more than the promise of great sex, and they’d delivered on that time and again. It was her own stupid fault for falling in love with one of them.

  * * * *

  “Are you okay?” Jason asked.

  Megan added a couple toast slices to a plate and handed it across the table to him. “Fine. Jelly?” She held up the jar of grape jelly.

  He shook his head. “No thanks.” The jelly jar hit the table with enough force to rattle the silverware. If he weren’t in such a hurry, he’d have pressed her for details, because she most certainly wasn’t fine. Judging by her red-rimmed eyes and puffy face, she’d been crying. Jason racked his brain for anything he might have done to make her cry and couldn’t come up with anything. She seemed fine when he left. Concerned for him maybe, but not on the verge of tears. That left Jeff. He wondered what his brother had done or said, but it was going to have to wait. The limo they’d hired to take them to the airport would be there in a few minutes. Not enough time to dissect, then fix the problem, and sew everything back up neatly.

  Jeff came into the kitchen as the limo driver honked his horn. He leaned over Megan’s shoulder, grabbed a slice of toast from her plate and landed a perfunctory kiss on the top of her head. “Gotta go. Thanks for breakfast.” Jason watched his brother’s retreating back. Something was definitely up between Jeff and Megan. The protective shell Megan pulled around her when Jeff walked in would make an armadillo jealous. Jason thanked Megan for breakfast and stooped to kiss her full on the lips before he left. It wasn’t much of a kiss, he didn’t feel he had the right to anything more, but she softened under his touch. Yet, there wasn’t a spark of interest. He might as well have kissed his sister.

  “See ya when we get back. We’ll call.”

  Jeff had already loaded his luggage and slid into the backseat by the time Jason came out. He stowed his own suitcase, then pulled the door shut behind him and settled into the seat across from Jeff. His brother looked like shit. He was impeccably groomed, as usual, but his eyes looked like cheap animation for a Visine commercial. Jason had seen vampires with more color.

  “Want to talk about it?” Jason asked.

  Jeff glanced at him, then turned his attention to the landscape. “No. There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Uh huh.” Jason recognized the tone and the body language. Jeff wasn’t going to talk. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have his say. “Look, asshole. I don’t know what you did to Megan, but you’d better find a way to make it right. Send her some flowers or something. Better yet, call her. Ten days is a long time to let something simmer.”

  “Shut the fuck up! You don’t know what you are talking about. If you think Megan has a problem, you call her. She’d rather talk to you anyway.”

  “What the hell? I don’t know what happened last night, but Megan was fine when I left the house, so that means you did something to her. Did you see her eyes? No, of course you didn’t. You didn’t take the time to look at her, did you? Whatever you did, it made her cry. All night long, from the looks of it.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Then maybe that’s what’s wrong. She wanted something and you didn’t give it to her.”

  Jeff continued to stare out the side window at the passing cars and billboards. Jason waited. Sometimes he knew what his brother was thinking, as if they shared the same internal circuit boards. But other times, like now, he didn’t have a clue what was going on inside that head that looked so much like his own. So he waited. When Jeff finally spoke, the defeat in his voice shocked Jason.

  “I can’t give her what she wants.” The words sounded like they’d been wrenched from him with a rusty crowbar. Jason stared at the man across from him. This wasn’t the confident, over-achiever brother he knew.

  “What, exactly, does she want?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. All I know is – it’s not something I can give her.”

  The finality in Jeff’s statement stopped Jason cold. He’d felt like a third wheel for so long, it hadn’t occurred to him that maybe things weren’t so great between Jeff and Megan either. He’d been certain Megan loved his brother, and wanted to make a life with him. Maybe that was it. Maybe she’d asked for more and Jeff had said no. It would be just like his brother to do something stupid like throw away the best thing that ever happened to him. What he couldn’t figure out was why.

  It didn’t make any sense. Jeff had to know how Megan felt about him. Hell, if Jason could figure it out, then anyone could, even Jeff. That only meant Jeff didn’t return her feelings, but if that was true, then why was Jeff so down?

  The limo weaved through the early morning traffic and deposited them on the sidewalk in front of the terminal. Worries about Jeff and Megan took a backseat to getting through security and the inevitable autograph-signing as they were recognized by fans. He usually didn’t mind interacting with the fans, but today, when things weighed so heavily on his mind, it was more difficult to put on a smile and say the right things. All he wanted to do was get to the VIP lounge and find a quiet place to think.

  * * * *

  Jason climbed out of the cab and tossed the driver a twenty. He joined his brother at the stadium gate where Jeff was talking to the guard on duty.

  “Yeah, we’re early,” Jeff said. “I need a little extra time to get loose.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Holder You being loose probably isn’t a good thing for the home team, but hey! I’ve always been a Mustangs fan, so you go on in and make yourself at home.” His gaze shifted to Jason. “You too, Mr. Holder.”

  Jason shifted his duffel bag to his left hand and extended his right to the guard. “Thanks…”

  “George. You can call me George.”

  “I’m Jason, and this is Jeff. No need to be formal.” George’s smile could light up the ballpark if the power went out. “We appreciate you letting us in, George.”

  “No problem. Hey, since you’re here, and all…could I get your autographs?”

  “Sure,” Jeff said. “Do you have a piece of paper or something?

  George flipped a page over on his clipboard and handed it to Jeff who signed and passed it to Jason. He signed his name and handed it back. They shook hands all around before Jeff and Jason headed into the tunnel leading to the clubhouse. They changed into practice gear in the visiting team’s locker room and headed out to the bullpen.

  “I want to go on record as opposing this.”

  “Just shut up and catch, will you? I’ll work this out on my own.”

  Jason caught the warm-up throw and returned it with more force than was strictly necessary. “I’ll shut up when you start acting sensible. You can’t keep throwing this much every day. It’s not good for your arm.”

  “It’s not your career on the line, Asshole. McCree is hitting everything thrown at him these days. I can’t keep throwing him inside heat. I’ve got to find a way to get McCree out, and working a curve ball into my portfolio might do the trick.”

  “I doubt it. Your curve ball sucks, bro.” They were halfway through their road trip, and Jeff had dragged Jason to the field every day for a few extra hours of pitching practice. His curve ball had started off bad in high school, and from what Jason could see, it hadn’t improved one bit.

  “I haven’t heard you come up with a better idea.”

  “That’s because I don’t have one. McCree is a stupid shit. He
’s digging his own grave, one steroid shot at a time. Eventually, that’s going to catch up to him and he’ll be out for a lot more than one at bat.”

  “Until that happens, and I have little faith that it will, he’s still a problem. I can break records, but the one I’d like most to break is McCree’s homerun record.”

  Jason slid his mask into place and crouched low. They’d had this same conversation at least a million times over the last few days. Jeff wasn’t going to budge. Jason could refuse to help, but knowing Jeff, he’d ask one of the other team members to catch for him. In the meantime, he’d continue trying to talk some sense into his hardheaded brother. Besides, they were on the road, what else did they have to do?

  “You should be working with Nate. He’s the pitching coach. It’s his job to figure what pitches you should be throwing.”

  “Yeah? How’s that working out for Andy, or Jose, or any of the others? They’ve been listening to Nate and their ERA’s look more like shoe sizes.”

  “Maybe so, but throwing the same bad pitch over and over isn’t going to help any. If you’re determined to throw a curve, you need someone who can help you fix whatever’s wrong with it. I’m not that guy.”

  He caught another lousy pitch and stood to throw the ball back. “Have you talked to Megan?”

  “No.”

  Another curve ball – worse than the previous one. “Why the hell not?”

  “Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

  Jason cursed as the next pitch went so far outside it was a wonder it stayed in the ballpark. It hit the back wall behind him and spun in the dirt until he ambled over and picked it up. He turned it over and over in his hand looking for damage before he threw it back again. “That one will get McCree out. Can you do that again? I think that’s the one.”

  “Shut the fuck up and catch or I’ll shut you up myself.”

  Jason slid his mask to the top of his head and faced his brother. “What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t even take a joke anymore.”

  “My career is no joke.” Jason watched his mirror image go into a rage, totally at a loss as to what was going on inside Jeff’s head. “If you aren’t going to help me, then get the fuck out of here. I’ll find someone else.”

  “Look, Jeff, you don’t need to do this.”

  “Like hell I don’t.”

  “You don’t.” Jason scanned the empty stadium. At least there wasn’t anyone else around to witness his brother’s meltdown. “Come on. Let’s go get some water bottles and cool off.” He headed toward the clubhouse, hoping Jeff would follow. Absolutely nothing good could come from Jeff’s obsession, and that’s what it was, an obsession with striking out Martin McCree. But as focused as Jeff was on that one goal, Jason had the feeling there was something else going on that Jeff wasn’t talking about. He was using the McCree situation as an excuse to ignore whatever else he had going on inside his screwed up head.

  “I don’t want water. I need to pitch.”

  “You’re right about one thing. What you want and what you need are two different things. You’ve just got them backasswards.” Jeff followed him. Jason tossed his glove and helmet on a nearby table and wiped his sweaty face on his shirtsleeve before he pulled two cold water bottles from the refrigerator and handed one to Jeff. “Look, Jeff. At the risk of inflating your already enormous ego, you’re one of the best relief pitchers ever to play the game. Giving up a few homers to McCree isn’t going to change that.”

  “That’s what you think. The press is eating this up. Did you see the Sports Center report the other day? Hell, they ripped me to shreds over one homer. Don’t they have a clue what’s going on? It’s like going up against Godzilla with a fucking spit wad.”

  Jason smiled at the apt description. Everything Jeff said was true, but it still didn’t account for his brother’s attitude. This sour, obsessed man wasn’t Jeff Holder. “You’ve had your share of success against Godzilla. You struck him out twice in the first series this year. You’ll do it again.”

  “When? We only face them one more time in regular season, and if the team doesn’t start playing better, there won’t be a playoff for us.”

  “All I’m saying is you’re letting this get to you. This obsession is affecting your pitching, Jeff. You blew a save the other day because you missed your spot. That was supposed to be inside and you threw it right over the plate. Served Hanson a freakin’ meatball. The only thing you could have done to make it better for him was to put red sauce on it.”

  “You think you could do better? Huh? Why don’t you go stand on the mound and show me how easy it is.” Jeff’s face had gone purple and he’d closed the distance between them until Jason had to take a step back or breathe the same air as his brother.

  “Whoa! I never said it was easy. All I’m saying is – you used to think pitching was fun. It was a challenge, but it wasn’t the end of the world – ”

  “If I lost my edge? Is that what you were going to say?”

  “No –”

  “I haven’t lost my edge!” Jeff raked his hands through his hair and paced away. Jason sucked in a clean breath as Jeff left his space. “I haven’t.” Jeff dropped into one of the club chairs lining the walls. His shoulders sagged and he folded in on himself like a deflating balloon. “I haven’t.”

  Shit. Jason didn’t have a clue what to do. He’d never seen Jeff like this, didn’t want to see it now. For a guy with an ego roughly the size of Texas and Alaska combined, Jeff didn’t implode – ever. The pathetic mutterings that followed his first outburst shook Jason as nothing else could. He’d seen other ball players lose confidence in their abilities, but never Jeff. From the first moment he’d put on a glove when they were all of eight years old, Jeff had known his value as a pitcher. It had taken Jason longer, years longer, to develop into a decent catcher and win a place in the batting order, but Jeff had always had enormous talent, and confidence to match it. Watching him now sent a chill down Jason’s spine. What the fuck was wrong with his brother?

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He wasn’t a shrink. So sue him.

  “I don’t fucking know!” Jeff looked at him, and the blast of uncharacteristic uncertainty in his eyes hit Jason like a wild pitch to the side of the head.

  “Then you damn well better figure it out.” He glared at his brother. If looks could kill, he’d be bloody on the floor by now. “Get yourself someone else to help you fuck up your arm. I quit.” Jason picked up his helmet and glove and headed toward the hallway leading to the locker room. His brother’s voice stopped him.

  “I don’t need you.”

  Freakin’ pathetic. “Look, Jeff. I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now, but I can tell you this. If your career goes down the tubes, it won’t be McCree’s fault. You’ll be the only one to blame.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jeff stewed in the bullpen. He’d been sitting on his ass for the better part of two weeks, watching his team lose game after game. The season had gone from bad to worse. They still had to face the Miners one more time, and Megan was in love with his brother. From his perspective, things couldn’t get much worse. Of the three worries on his mind, the only one he had any control over was the Miners, and only if the rest of the team could score enough runs to give him a chance at a save.

  How the hell was he supposed to stay in form if his ass never left the bench? The team was doing their best, but lately that hadn’t been good enough. At this rate, they weren’t even going to make the playoffs. The best they could hope for was a wild-card spot, and that was looking less likely every day. He tried to keep his frustration to himself. Venting in front of the team wouldn’t help, wouldn’t change a thing. It would only make him look like an ass, looking out for his own interests. He had goals like every other player in the major leagues, but when you only played an inning or two, and only if the team was ahead by a few runs, then the window of opportunity to reach those goals was mighty slim.

  J
eff glanced at the scoreboard and winced. He wouldn’t be warming up for this game – not unless a miracle happened. He wouldn’t be setting any records this season, but the one thing he could do was get the best of Martin McCree. The press would be all over that, and at least he’d salvage something from this season. Maybe Megan would take notice. It hadn’t escaped him that Jason was having a fantastic season. His stats were as good as any in the league. As a catcher, he was one of the best in the game, and his batting average was close to tying the team record. He’d never thought that sort of thing mattered to Megan, but he couldn’t dismiss the coincidence. His own star was, at the very least, stuck in limbo, while Jason’s was rising, approaching the stratosphere. He couldn’t really blame her for falling for Jason, but it still hurt like hell.

  He blew two more saves before the road trip ended. His curve ball was every bit as bad as Jason said it was, and his attitude had the entire team walking out of their way to avoid him. It wasn’t any secret the manager was pushing the starting pitchers and middle relievers to go more innings, hoping he wouldn’t have to call Jeff to the mound. Management had lost confidence in his ability. In a few short weeks, he’d gone from a sure thing to a long shot.

  The press was all over the story like maggots feeding on rotting flesh. They used words like slump, and said he’d lost it. They never bothered to define what ‘it’ was, but Jeff knew what it was. ‘It’ was everything. He’d lost his confidence, his talent, and, he’d lost Megan. Without those three things, he was nothing. Hell, maybe the first two were what had driven Megan into Jason’s arms in the first place; or maybe that’s all he was to her to begin with. She hadn’t been that close to Jason before this McCree thing.

  He thought Megan was different. He thought she’d been with him because of who he was, not because he could throw a baseball. All through high school, girls had been easy conquests – mainly because of his achievements on the ball field. He was a big man on campus, and on the field. He won every award there was to win, and his photo had been in the local papers every week during the season, and he’d even made the state-wide paper a few times. College scouts, as well as major league scouts had watched Jason and him play. At the end of their junior year, they signed with the University of Texas.