Chapter Thirty-Nine
Scott
I've been waiting all night for Carrie to call me after the game, praying that she would.
So it's no wonder that I'm holding my phone in my hand when her name finally lights up my screen. I don't waste a minute. I cut right to the chase.
"Care Bear, what happened?"
"Oh, God, Scott. It was awful," she sighs, and I can tell by how raspy her voice is that she's been crying. "I walked in and Dad was home, sitting there with Mom like nothing was wrong. When I saw him, I just lost it."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Please tell me you didn't do that."
"I did. I let him have it," she says. "And Mom just sat there in a state of shock, watching the two of us yell at each other. She waited until I practically lost my voice and couldn't say another word. Then she told Dad ever so calmly to get the hell out."
"No way!" I exclaim, feeling like I totally underestimated Diane Heimlich McKenzie.
"Yeah. He told her she'd be sorry and leveled all these threats against her and Grandpa, but she just took a sip of her wine and acted like he wasn't even there," she utters all in one breath.
"So, she's really leaving him?" I ask her.
"Yep," Carrie responds without much emotion, the dissolution of her parents' marriage simply the culmination of a dull ache that's been throbbing inside her heart for years. "They haven't been happy for a while now, but this kind of disloyalty… I mean, how could she ever forgive him for something like this? And I'm afraid he's not done yet."
"He's really gonna go through with it?" I question Carrie. "Your dad's really gonna go after your grandpa?"
"Yeah. Gayle's been monitoring Dad's phone records, and she said that, the minute he walked out the door, he called Terry," she reveals, and I feel the bile rising in my throat. "Rhonda texted her five minutes later saying that Terry had instructed her to start e-mailing the video of Grandpa to the media under Dad's encrypted account."
"But what does your father have to gain by doing this?" I ask, struggling to make sense of his actions. "If your mom is planning to divorce him, she's the one with the ownership claim, not him."
"Mom thinks he's doing it for the sheer pleasure of taking Grandpa down," she responds, this time with a tremor in her voice. "Dad's said time and time again that he was sick and tired of waiting around for Grandpa to retire, that for thirty years Grandpa had him mired in some middle-management position with no chance of moving up. Now, he's allying himself with Terry to get back at Grandpa for all the supposed slights he's inflicted on him over the years."
"Is there any truth to that?" I inquire, well aware of what Arnold is capable of.
"Probably," Carrie admits. "But Grandpa made my dad a vice president of his multibillion-dollar sports franchise. Dad knew he was all set to live the good life when he married Mom. Sure, Grandpa can be hard to work for, but he doesn't deserve to be betrayed by his own son-in-law."
Bobby snaps his fingers from where he's sitting next to Alex on the couch, and points at the TV.
"Uh, Care Bear?" I walk toward the screen, hardly believing what I'm seeing. "SportsTV just broke in with a special report. The headline says, 'MLB commissioner to open a special investigation against Kings' owner Arnold Heimlich.'"
"Well, then they can take my job and shove it," Carrie mutters. "Yeah, Grandpa deserves everything he has coming to him for letting Terry do what he did to you and the rest of the Kings, but there's no way I can keep working for SportsTV now—not when my family is suddenly their top story. I mean, we've already seen what they're capable of. Look at what they did to Bob, and they knew viewers liked Bob. They're going to have absolutely no sympathy whatsoever in taking down Grandpa. He was already one of the most feared men in sports. There's not going to be much love lost, especially when people find out what he did to his players. It's going to turn into a feeding frenzy, and it just breaks my heart that my father was in on it too."
"Hang in there," I say to comfort her, turning away from the TV. "I know it must feel like an uppercut to the jaw, but keep your chin up, Care Bear. I'm not exaggerating when I say that you're the only reason I got through that God-awful trade situation, so I know you'll be able to keep it together and be there for your mom now. Just stay strong."
"I only wish you were here with me," she whispers, making me want to hop on the next plane.
But all I can do is whisper back, "Me too, baby. Me too."
"I'm sorry, but with all of this terrible stuff going on, I forgot to check. Did you get a hit tonight?" Carrie asks with a mixture of hope and fear in her voice.
"Yeah. No worries." I smile, glad to set her mind at ease—on that score, at least.
"Good," she murmurs. "I don't know what I would've done if your streak had ended on top of all this."
"I'm okay, baby. You just need to focus on yourself and your family right now. I'm fine," I assure her.
"I can hear Mom crying in her bedroom. I knew it'd hit her later on," she says, a trace of sorrow creeping in to her voice. It breaks my heart to hear it. "I have to go, but I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Oh, Carrie, wait," I call out when Alex tosses a pillow at me to get my attention. "I almost forgot. Alex wants to know if you want her to come home or not."
"No. Tell her to stay where she is," Carrie advises. "It's going to get chaotic around here, and she's doing wonders with Bob. He needs her more."
"Okay. I'll tell her." I close my eyes, realizing just how hard it is to be separated from her, especially at a time like this. "I love you, Carrie."
"I think knowing that you love me is the only thing that's going to get me through this," she replies, taking a shaky breath. "I love you too, Scott."
I lower the phone from my ear, feeling like my heart was just ripped out of my chest.
"How's she holding up?" Bobby asks, his voice tinged with concern.
I shake my head. "Not good."
"Based on what I overheard, is it true? Did Mom really kick Dad out?" Alex inquires.
"I'm afraid so, Alex. I'm so sorry," I reply, hating to have to be the one to tell her.
"Don't be," she mutters, her response catching me off guard.
"You don't seem all that shaken up about it," Bobby remarks, watching Alex's face.
"Carrie wasn't home as much as I was these last few years." Alex rolls her eyes. "I knew he was cheating on Mom, but I never imagined he was going after Grandpa and the Kings."
"Does your mom know about the other women?" I come closer to the couch where they're sitting, unnerved by what she's saying.
"Probably, but Mom didn't wanna rock the boat," she grumbles. "She's always been more in love with him than he was with her."
"Do you think there's still something there between them that they could somehow salvage this?" Bobby ponders, lightly kissing Alex's forehead.
"I don't know." Alex shrugs against him. "Dad got so mad when Carrie was hired by the Kings. He kept saying that he wanted her to go off and do something that had nothing to do with the team. He said the same thing to me too when I was interning at the stadium last summer. He'd make comments like he was sick of Grandpa having his hands in every aspect of our lives."
"So, do you think the affairs were a cry for help?" I press Alex, trying to figure Charles McKenzie out.
"Grandpa does have a knack for making grown men feel like sniveling, little girls." She gives me a tiny grin, well aware of my own hostile encounters with the men in her family. "It could've been Dad's way of fighting back."
But Alex's flippant response only makes me even angrier at Charles McKenzie. "So, you don't blame your dad for what he's been doing?"
"Of course I do!" Alex exclaims, sitting forward. "Dad didn't care enough about any of us to speak up to Grandpa and let him know how he felt. Instead, he took the easy way out, hoping Mom would be the one to end it, and apparently, she just did."
"So all bets are off then?" Bobby asks, resting his hand on the small of her back.
"Yeah, thanks to Dad." Alex turns to look at the two of us. "He just tore our entire family apart."
***
The next morning—the morning of game fifty-six, the record-tying game—my phone rings, and I immediately pick it up, thinking that it's Carrie until a different female voice greets my ear.
"Arnold Heimlich copped a plea."
"Gayle?" I rub my eyes to make sure I'm not dreaming.
"Yeah. I'm sorry to wake you. I know it's super early on the West Coast, but I thought you'd want to know," she replies, talking fast.
"Is he going to jail?" I ask, fearing the worst.
"No. That was one of the conditions," she responds. "He plead guilty to a lesser charge of corruption and will serve two years' probation under house arrest."
"That's practically what he's doing now," I mutter, stretching my arms above my head, not exactly thrilled that Arnold is getting off so easy for dicking me over.
"But"—Gayle pauses, finally taking a breath—"Major League Baseball is banning him for life. He'll no longer be the owner of the New York Kings."
"But who will take his place?" I question, since the team has been in Carrie's family for decades.
"The commissioner's still deciding if he'll allow Diane McKenzie to retain ownership," she says. "There's going to be a public outcry over this, and the commissioner's going to want to come down on the right side of it."
I run my hand along my jaw. "How long till we know?"
"Not long," she answers. "In the best interest of everyone involved, the commissioner will have to make up his mind soon. We're in the middle of the season—not the most opportune time for a shake-up of this magnitude."
"So, you feel Carrie's mom will be granted control of the team?" I press Gayle, needing to know for Carrie's sake.
"From a public relations standpoint, it's not going to fly—at least, not in the beginning," she replies. "People are going to want heads to roll for what Arnold did to you. You're one of the most popular players in the game right now, and to see Arnold screw you over like that on video, well… It doesn't sit well. Not with fans, not with the players' association, not with a lot of people."
"But…" I stammer.
"But from a purely business perspective, it makes sense for a member of the Heimlich family to maintain ownership of the Kings," Gayle assures me. "They're baseball's crown jewel and everybody knows it. They're too big to fail. Major League Baseball goes the way of the Kings. If the Kings lose money, so does every team in the game. They're the underpinning that's holding everything together. To put it bluntly, the Kings put a money-making product on the field year in and year out, thanks to the continual investment the Heimlich family makes in the team. Every time the Kings enter a visiting city to play a series, they pump millions of dollars into the local economy on the strength of the Kings' name alone. No one else even comes close to that kind of influence."
"So, it's good business to let Carrie's mom take over for Arnold?"
"Hey, I think you already knew that. I sure as heck didn't have to tell you," she chuckles. "Oh, someone's beeping in. Scott, I gotta go. I'm about to have one hell of a day."
"Bye, Gayle. Thanks for letting me know," I respond, grateful for the heads-up.
"Look at the shitstorm your nudie selfies kicked up, huh?" she teases me.
"Oh, God. Please don't even say that," I groan.
"It's the end of an era. Wow. I never thought I'd see the day when Arnold Heimlich was no longer in charge," Gayle sighs.
"Yeah. You and me both," I mutter, looking into the face of not only a whole new day—but a whole new world.
***
"Umm…Scott?" I hear while I'm taking a few practice swings in the cage underneath the stadium later that morning.
I turn around, wiping my brow. "Yeah. What is it, Sanders?"
"You're wanted in Terry Bloom's office," he says like a schoolboy telling me that I'm being summoned to the principal's office.
"Shit." I step forward to turn off the machine, dodging the balls lying on the ground.
"See? I told you he was gonna bench your ass, didn't I, Harper?" Reisenberg taunts me, striding into the room, bat in hand.
"Harp's one game away from tying the record, why would Terry do that?" Sanders retorts.
"You don't know anything, rookie. Go back to being invisible." Reisenberg arrogantly brushes past Sanders, knocking him flat against the wall.
"You rough him up while I'm gone and you'll have me to answer to, Reisenberg. Do we understand each other?" I get right in his face, letting him know that I'm serious. I'm about ready to throw my "no brawling with a teammate" rule right out the window.
"You're gonna be in no mood to fight me when you get back, Harper," Reisenberg snickers, stepping aside. "You're about to be taken down a few pegs, and I can't wait for it to happen."
Sanders comes up to me. "Don't listen to him, Harp. He doesn't know what he's talking about. Terry's not alone. I saw Carrie and another woman go into his office with him."
"Carrie's here? She's back?" My heart does a funky kind of somersault in my chest.
"I don't know what's going on, but she looked ready to kick some ass." Sanders smiles at me.
"Jesus. Thanks, Sanders." I clap him on the back, rushing toward the door.
"I hope it all works out for you, Harp. No one deserves to break this record more than you do," he calls out to me.
"Thanks, man." I wave to him over my shoulder.
I hustle down the maze of hallways, taking the stairs two at a time, not bothering to wait for the elevator. I reach Terry's office in record speed, running in like the building's on fire.
"There you are!" Rhonda cries out, her eyes lighting up when she sees me. "They're expecting you."
"Rhonda, is it true?" I gasp, trying to catch my breath. "Is Carrie in Terry's office?"
"Yeah. She walked in with her mom ten minutes ago." She winks at me. "Something big's going on. I just don't know what."
"Can I go in?" I ask, clutching my side and forcing air into my lungs.
"Hold on. Let me announce you." Rhonda raises a finger before hitting the intercom button. "Mr. Bloom? Mr. Harper's here. Shall I send him in? Okay. Will do."
Rhonda nods at me, and I can't help but bust her. "Do I have to say, 'Mother, may I?'"
"No," she chuckles. "But I wouldn't put it past you to do something like that in such a serious situation."
"Rhonda, if I can't go back to the Kings, my life is over anyway." I close my eyes and try to steady my heart. "Trust me. I need my humorous side to carry me through this because life doesn't get much more serious than what I'm about to face."
"Good luck, baby," she whispers, as I place my hand on the door.
Rhonda's words of encouragement are the last thing I hear before Carrie is throwing herself into my arms.
"Scott!" Carrie blurts out, hugging me tight.
"Hey, Care Bear. This is a nice surprise," I mumble against her hair, seeing two pairs of eyes on us—one friendly, one not so much.
Carrie's mom nods at me, smiling over at us. "Scott, it's good to see you again."
"You too, Diane," I reply warmly, glad to see how composed she looks after the ordeal she's been through.
"All right. Break it up." Terry claps his hands, and Carrie reluctantly lets go of me. "It's time to get down to business. Why are you here, Diane, and why did you ask me to include Harper in this meeting?" He sits back in his chair, outwardly gloating. "Because he's not going anywhere."
"Oh yes, he is. He's coming home with us." Diane floors me with her stunning declaration then proceeds to wallop me in the gut with her next statement. "He's going to tie DiMaggio's record tonight in Kings Stadium."
"That's a good one, Diane." Terry laughs, readily dismissing her. "I appreciate your twisted sense of humor, but it's not going to happen."
"Oh, I think it is," Diane says, her expression hardening. "You see, the commissioner took a long, hard look at that video that
you and my husband released of my father, realizing what a significant role you played in it."
"I was just doing my job." Terry holds out his hands. "Under duress, coerced by an unethical boss."
"That's not how the commissioner views it," Diane informs Terry. "He feels you had a heavy hand in manipulating Scott along with my father. He intends to bring you up on the same level of extortion charges if you don't comply with his request."
"What request?" Terry asks snidely.
"To trade Scott back to the Kings for the draft picks that were already promised to San Diego," Diane says calmly.
Terry whistles through his teeth, shaking his head. "Wow. You'll do just about anything for that daughter of yours, won't you?"
"My mom didn't do anything for me. She—" Carrie interjects.
"I've got this, Carrie, but thank you." Diane silences her daughter with a look before smiling over at Terry, not intimidated by him in the least.
"So, you think I'm just going to give in to your demands, just like that?" Terry asks, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in his chair. "Tonight's game is sold out. As is tomorrow's. Do you know how much I stand to lose at the box office, not to mention the TV ratings, memorabilia deals, exposure for the team? I could go on and on. Something like this hasn't happened in nearly seventy-five years and you expect me to just walk away from it?"
"Or you can spend a few years rotting away in a prison cell," Diane replies coolly. "It's up to you."
"You're not going to get away with this," Terry seethes, sitting forward in his seat. "I'm going to fight you tooth and nail."
"You might want to reconsider that strategy, Terry," Diane advises. "I had a lengthy conversation with Drake Schultz yesterday, and he made some pretty startling accusations against you."
"Like what?" Terry growls.
"How you approached him about finding a supplier who could provide the Kings with a steady stream of performance-enhancing drugs…" Diane trails off, her implication clear.
"I would never do that," Terry balks. "It's illegal. If Schultz is making up crap like that, then it's only to cover his own ass for taking them."
Perfect Game Page 34