by Alice Ward
“Thank you, Mom.” I lunged toward her, scooping her into my arms and squeezing her with all my might.
“What are you two ladies fussing about?” I quickly shoved the ring into my front pocket before releasing my mother and acknowledging my dad standing at the doorway.
With the ring in my possession and my life feeling not so desolate as it once had, my anger toward him began to melt away. “What are you two going to do now?”
Dad leaned against the door frame of my bedroom door. Mom sat down on my bed, smiling at me with an emptiness I’d never seen before. I perched my frame against the wide opening of my walk-in closet, waiting, hoping for an answer I could live with.
“We have a condo. It’s small but still close to the action.” Small traces of remorse could be heard in my dad’s voice if you listened hard enough. “And, Kitty-Kat, we don’t want this news spreading all over the place,” he continued, remorse gone. “We’re just telling people we’ve downsized and plan to see the world. Who needs a big ole place like this when we’ll hardly ever be home?”
As the delusion continued, I couldn’t hold back the emotion, and tears fell down my cheeks like a waterfall. My mother’s arms wrapped around me tightly, but the same comfort she’d offered earlier wasn’t there. I felt sick. I’d idolized this man. Millions of people idolized him. How could he let this happen?
“I want you to have this,” he said softly, bringing his hands from behind his back. He held his "Most Valuable Player" award, a large plaque he’d proudly displayed in the game room for years. Aside from his World Series ring, it was his most valued possession. I felt uneasy about accepting such a gift.
“No, I couldn’t.”
“I want you to have it,” he insisted, continuing to hold it out.
Mom released her grip on me. The plaque felt massive in my hands. I’d never held it, only admired it on the shelf in the game room where it and his other trophies were displayed with pride.
“I’ll get everything back.”
I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t believe anything right now.
“He will, you’ll see,” my mother chimed in, defending him as usual.
My hands quivered with the award. He really was the most valuable player. I missed those days. Not only for the money. The man standing in front of me right now was much different than the one hitting balls out of the stadium.
I was certain my mother knew about his gambling problems early on, but I hadn’t. He’d done a fantastic job covering up his addiction, up until now. On the field, he was a God, commanding control of the ball, the other players, and always pushing himself past the limits of his talents. Even when my mom wasn’t able to go, Dad always took me to the games. I’d hang out in the general manager’s office while they practiced, watching from the closed circuit televisions. During the game, I’d have the best seats, often a skybox with some pretty impressive A-listers. The concession stands were aware of my father’s status, so I’d get anything I wanted. I felt like a princess, my father the king on the diamond.
“Remember the World Series game?” he asked softly.
I looked up, into the eyes that still held so much pride that they were breathtaking. I did remember. He was speaking of the last World Series, the one his team won. It was one of the best days of my life. I’d never forget it.
“You were so excited, you grabbed me from my seat and carted me around the field on your shoulders.” I sighed at the memory.
He chuckled. His eyes glazed over with emotion as they moved past me and onto the wall behind me. My mother stood, rubbed his arm softly with her delicate hand, staring at him with love and admiration.
“We’ll get through this,” she whispered. Her dark green eyes fell on me. “We won’t let anyone know what’s happening right now. It’s only temporary anyway. No need to have the media or nosy acquaintances judging us.”
Her stature was strong, her demeanor filled with a sudden strength. Janice Delaney, an aristocrat to her social circle, was not going to be displayed in such a poor light. No way, and neither would her husband or daughter. It was agreed without actually saying a word. I’d keep my mouth shut and pretend that all was well. Daddy doesn’t have a gambling problem that cost us our way of life, no sir, just downsizing.
“Thanks, girls,” he said with a strange burst of confidence. He turned, winked at me, slapped my mother playfully on the ass and disappeared down the hall.
“How long has this been going on?” I asked my mom once we were alone.
She hesitated, sighing, and dropped her eyes to the floor.
I knew she didn’t want to talk about it, but I deserved to know the truth. This was my life too. “Bobby’s always liked to gamble,” she said, finally looking me in the eye.
I sat on my bed, carefully placing the award beside me. “Always?”
“Yes. It started out with just a few bets here and there. Once he retired, he grew restless, I guess, needing something to keep him feeling alive,” she said sadly. “He’s a good man.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what? How was telling you, or anyone for that matter, going to help?”
“I could’ve talked to him,” I argued.
A soft sigh fell from her lips. She moved toward me, sitting on the bed next to me. Her arm offered warmth as it wrapped around my shoulders. “If I thought you could’ve stopped him, sure, I would’ve told you.”
After being told of his addiction, I took notice of his behaviors. They were sporadic, sometimes manic. His downs were rough, but his ups were even more turbulent. Watching him spiral out of control while smiling, convincing himself that everything was going to be alright was heart wrenching.
I sat in my room alone for a while, looking out the large window that overlooked our dozen acres of land, taking in the last of the familiar scent of my bedroom, and saying goodbye to the life I once knew. I was scared, terrified really. I had no idea what I was going to do on my own.
“I have to get to work.” I sat on the window bench in the front room. My dad barked orders to the movers that had arrived, while my mother acted as if everything was normal.
“You might want to think about a real job,” Dad scolded me with his all-knowing look.
Ya think?
I loved my internship at the radio station. It kept me busy, allowed me a social life, or at least the facade of one. My social media management career, if you could call an unpaid job that, was exciting, fast-paced, and I was learning how not only to make the radio station look good online, but myself as well.
Most of my life was spent surrounded by baseball players, on the field and off. Friends were few and far between, and none of them ever really close. I liked being on the road with my dad, watching him on the field, getting the royal treatment for being Bobby “Spaceman” Delaney’s daughter.
College wasn’t much different. Even though I was surrounded by kids my own age, I didn’t seem to have a lot in common with them. I worked all the time, studying, creating the school newsletter, and of course, keeping up the game, even though Dad retired during my freshman year. Five years, that’s all it took for him to lose everything he’d worked an entire life for.
“About your condo,” my dad said quickly as the movers left with another large box.
“I know,” I muttered.
“You should be able to make the association fees, and the basic bills, right?” His eyes were full of concern, and for the first time, I caught a glimpse of reality in them.
“Yes.” I clutched the ring in my pocket, rolling it around in my fingers that were shoved deep in the denim. I’ll be fine.
“I’m really sorry, Kitty-Kat. This is just a rough patch. I’ll turn it all around soon, and then we can go shopping for another pink Mercedes. Hell, maybe even a Lamborghini this time.”
His lips curled into a slick smile, and my mother’s eyes widened in pleasure at his words. I wasn’t sure which one of them was more delusional.
Did they not see the movers outside? Could they not comprehend that all of their life-long belongings had been sold to cover gambling debts and that they were reduced to a small truck of boxes, a couple pieces of unimpressive furniture, and a two-bedroom condo that was smaller than their current bedroom?
“Sounds good, Dad,” I murmured, not willing to push him while he was already down, or up, I couldn’t tell anymore.
My phone lit up, playing the “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” ringtone I’d been meaning to change. I pulled it from my purse, stared at the screen, trying to figure out who’d be calling me from New York.
“You gonna answer that?” my dad called to me. I knew the song irritated him. He didn’t have the warm and fuzzy feelings about baseball like he used to. Since he retired from the Braves, I didn’t even think he’d watched a full game.
“Hello, this is Katrina Delaney,” I answered as professionally as possible.
Often times, the radio station gave out my number to clients. Even though I’d probably be leaving there soon, I wanted to leave on a good note.
“This is Rhett Hamilton with the New York Beasts.” His voice had the same deep tone I remembered from years ago.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hamilton. How can I help you?” I responded, confused, excited, and a little intimidated. I knew of him, not only from the papers over the last couple seasons but also from years ago, when he and my dad were friends. The radio station was mainly a rock genre, rarely covering any sports events, unless to hand out free tickets as a contest. I couldn’t imagine what connection he’d have with them, but I was eager to find out.
My dad stared in my direction at the mention of the name. I turned away, keeping my focus on the phone call at hand and away from my curious father’s eyes.
“I have an exciting opportunity I’d like to talk to you about. When will you be free to meet with me?”
“I have a couple hours this afternoon. Are you staying in downtown Atlanta?” I asked.
A chuckle sounded over the phone. He was amused by my question, but I had no idea why. “No, I’m in New York. I need you here.”
My heart raced, and my palms began to sweat around the rubber case of my phone. “Can I ask what this is about?”
“Katrina, I’ve heard great things about you, and what you can do, so I’d like to see it for myself. You’ve heard of my team I’m sure, the Beasts?” He paused and left me to answer.
“Um, yes.”
“Then you know what trouble they can be. I need someone like you to clean them up, polish them for the press, so to speak.” He chuckled again, making me laugh too, even though I didn’t know why. I was nervous, still confused, and extremely overwhelmed. This was Rhett Hamilton, billionaire, owner of the most notorious team in the league. What did he want with me?
“I’ll make all the arrangements. You just show up at the airport, and then let me convince you as to why this would be an incredible opportunity for us both.”
I thought of my life here and what I had to look forward to — nothing. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him that I was only an intern, with no paid experience in the real world of social media management. I assumed he already knew, but should I bring it up? No, shut your mouth and accept, Katrina. You need this, badly!
“That sounds perfect.” Panic set in at my acceptance. What if he didn’t like me once we met? What if he realized he’d made a mistake hiring a college graduate with only eight months of internship under her belt? And that was only at a small local radio station. This was for the majors.
“I’ll have the information sent to you shortly. Is tomorrow afternoon okay with you? I can have you back that evening if you decline the position,” he said with confidence.
“Yes, that’s perfect,” I agreed.
I hung up the phone, slid it back into my purse, and turned to see my father staring at me with a mixture of confusion and excitement… and something else I couldn’t recognize.
“Was that Rhett Hamilton?” he asked. I nodded, still too shook up to speak. “He offered you a job?”
I nodded again. “I leave tomorrow afternoon for New York,” I managed to spit out.
“That’s great, honey!” My mother was enthusiastic, much more so than my father.
Larry, my Uber driver, was pulling up to the house. He was right on time, and for that I was thankful. I didn’t want to hang around and listen to one of my dad’s lectures about why this wouldn’t be a fantastic opportunity. I knew it was, and I was grateful to have it handed to me, even if I didn’t know exactly why.
CHAPTER THREE
Todd
I was grateful to still be in New York as I walked into the Beasts' indoor stadium. The place was new, fresh, and didn’t have that stank usually found in older stadiums. I was still reeling about the trade when my new coach slapped me on the back. “Glad to have you on the team,” he said quickly before rushing me to the center of the locker room.
I looked around the newly built locker room in awe. The Mets' locker room was nothing to complain about, but this, this was a player’s dream space.
“Listen up,” he called out to the group of guys who gave little to no attention to his presence. He lifted the whistle from his neck and pushed it into his mouth, blowing hard and loud until they all turned toward him in silence.
“This is our first pre-spring practice. I want the best of your best today, and every day this season. We’ve had a lot of changes, a lot of new players, and now, Todd Morris has joined us as catcher. One of the best defensive catchers in the league, he’s above average offensively as well, boasting a .306 batting average. He hit twenty-three home runs this past season. Malone, show him the ropes. The rest of you girls get your panties on and get in the cages.” I watched Calvin Malone’s eyes glaring at me as Coach spoke.
Rhett appeared beside me and slapped his hand on my shoulder. “Morris wasn’t an easy one to get on this team. I expect you will all work hard to get him up to speed on our standards.”
The guys continued their banter after the coach and Rhett finished their speeches. Coach motioned me toward the locker next to Calvin’s. Great!
Rhett had talked me up, acting like he’d fought to get me. In reality, we both knew I was tossed to him freely by my former team. This was the first practice, the first time I’d have to catch for Calvin, and I wasn’t looking forward to it, to any of it.
And standards, really? I wasn’t exactly sure what standards Rhett was speaking of, but from what I read about the Beasts, what I knew about them, I didn’t see any standards in place.
Coach pushed over a few guys, some of the heavy hitters on the team for Calvin and me to work with. “This way,” Calvin ordered, motioning for me to follow him to the back of the practice arena.
I grabbed my gear, following him without argument. I wasn’t ready to get into it with Calvin Malone, and in all honesty, I hoped we could put the past behind us. He won, he got the girl. Whitney, the beautiful Whitney. It was a sore point with me still, and I was certain for him as well. I geared up, walked out behind home plate, and looked around the large indoor field. It was nice, nicer than what I’d been used to. I was ready for his anger, for his distrust, but I was willing to make this work. If this was going to be my new home, I planned to make the best of it. Bring it on, Malone. Get it out of your system before the season starts.
Calvin took his place on the mound while Kane Steele, the new first baseman, picked up a bat. He was fresh out of the minors, and personally, I’d never seen him play. With no connection with my pitcher, no read on the hitter, I was catching blind. Not a great start.
There was no discussion about how he wanted his pitch signals delivered, so I’d have to work extra hard to make this work. I squatted down, signaled with one finger for a fastball, and the bastard shook his head. Two fingers for a curveball, another shake of the head. I continued with the basics, all to which he shook his head. What the fuck did he want? Pick something, Malone. It’s just practice
for God’s sake.
Steele was growing impatient. I was too. “What the fuck. You gonna throw a pitch or what?” he scoffed.
The lack of communication was killing me. I was used to having a connection with my pitcher, at least on some level. I slammed three fingers inside my thigh forcefully enough to leave a mark. Calvin grinned, nodded, and wound up his slider. Finally!
Steele slammed the ball without hesitation, sending it toward Malone with a vengeance. He ducked out of the way, slammed his glove on the field, and headed in my direction. “What the fuck, you tryin’ to get me killed?”
“Whoa, slow your roll,” I replied with more than a little hint of sarcasm. He wasn’t gonna pin this on me.
Steele dropped the bat, walked over to the dugout and took a seat. As Calvin’s face turned red with anger, and his words grew louder and more aggressive, the rest of the team began to flock from the batting cages and toward our scene.
“Malone, Morris, my office, now!” Coach’s face was its own shade of red.
I was fuming as I stepped off the field. Who did this asshole think he was? I was one of the better catchers in the league, maybe even the best. But, without the cooperation of my pitcher, I might as well be playing college ball.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you two, but you need to work it out, now!” Coach screamed loud enough to create an echo down the long corridor outside his office.
“Nothing to work out, Coach.” Calvin’s stance was cocky as he spoke.
I glared at him with narrowed eyes, wondering if he was thinking about me fucking Whitney. I knew that’s what I was thinking. He had no right to hold onto that grudge. He was a playboy, a cheat, and he was damn lucky she gave him another chance. He didn’t deserve it. I was the better man, but Whitney’s heart was too consumed with her high school sweetheart to see that. Naïve.
“I want you two communicating. In fact, the only one you’re allowed to talk to is each other, got it?” Coach’s voice calmed, but his eyes grew wild.
“Got it,” I replied without hesitation. That’s all I wanted in the first place… communication.