Home Run King

by Stella

  “You wiv wif baby.”

  “Yes. Exactly. Glad you get it. So how do I keep Katie from leaving? I got lucky today. She was in the shower when Boy George called from the moo poo store about an interview. I answered the phone and told the lady she wasn’t interested. But how am I supposed to do that when I’m gone? What if someone else calls when I’m not home and she takes the job…and then she’s gone before I come back?”

  “Eighty’s foam?”

  “Yeah, keep up. I picked up her phone when she was in the shower.”

  Her brown eyes widened, and she shook her head, her mouth forming an O like she just got in trouble. “Don’t dwop her foam, Age. It bwake, and she get mad wike Mama.”

  “Oh, good thinking, Rinny. I could break her phone to keep her from getting calls while I’m away. I’m really good at that kinda stuff and not getting caught, too. One time, before you were born, I broke your mama’s computer and blamed your daddy. She never suspected anyone else.”

  “Mama get mad.”

  “Yeah, she was. Really mad. Don’t tell her it was me, though. Okay? When she got it fixed, she found out it crashed because of por—uh, because of a video that was downloaded. Something about a virus. Although, after seeing the chick in the video, I’m sure there were several viruses. Anyway, she can’t know it was me. Got it?”

  “Got it, Age.”

  I brought the cup to my lips and made a slurping sound with my tongue. Then I swallowed, because you can’t pretend to drink something without going all the way. “Now that I think about it, I can’t break her phone. If I do that, then I won’t be able to talk to her when I’m out of town. And right now, our texts and calls and video chats are the only things that keep me sane on the road. So that won’t work. What else ya got?”

  “I wike it when you cawl me.”

  “Yeah, me too. But I think your daddy and mama would be upset if I called you late after a game. They seem to like it when you’re asleep. You sure they aren’t putting NyQuil in your milk? You should check into that. Make sure you watch your mama pour it before you drink it.”

  “No, silwy. Not miwk. We have tea.”

  “Oh, I bet she’s giving you that nighttime herbal tea, then. In that case, you should make sure you read the label on the box when she makes it for you. If she’s giving you the wrong one, you call me, okay?”

  “I can cawl you?”

  “Of course you can, silly. Anytime day or night. My phone’s always on.” That gave me an idea. “You’re a genius, Rinny. Do you know that? This is why I come to you for advice…you always have the answers. I’ll just call all the stores in the area to update Katie’s phone number on her application and give them mine. She’ll never know.”

  “All right, you two. Your time’s up.” Ellie stood in the doorway, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed she had her arms crossed over her chest. “Corinne, you need to wash your face and then get in bed for a nap.”

  “It’s a good thing your mama isn’t here,” I said to Corinne, ignoring Ellie’s presence. “I always have to watch what I say around her.”

  “Yeah, she say you have potty mouth.”

  “Corinne…” In about two seconds, Ellie would pull out the middle name, and then we’d be in trouble.

  In an act I’d never be able to recreate in a million years, Corinne took off her sunglasses, turned to the door, and acted incredibly surprised to see her mother standing there. “Oh, dare you are, Mama. I not see you.”

  I glanced around the room with short, dramatic head movements. “Your mama’s here? Where?”

  She came around the table, took the googly-eyed glasses off my face, and then pointed to Ellie—who, by the way, did not look amused. “White dare!”

  “Oh, would ya look at that. Ellie, when did you get here?”

  She huffed and fought against her grin while waving us out of the room. “Hurry up, sweetheart. Say goodbye to Gage and then go wipe that lipstick off.”

  I lifted Corinne into a big hug. “Wuv you,” she said with her face tucked into the crook of my neck and squeezed me as tightly as her tiny arms would allow. When I set her down, she ran into the bathroom, leaving me alone with her mother.

  “She’s really smart,” I said with my thumb hitched over my shoulder toward the bathroom. “Like genius-level smart. I’d be willing to bet her IQ is off the charts. You sure she’s not my kid?”

  “Unless I’ve been lied to my whole life about how babies are made, yes. I’m sure.”

  “Then I have no idea where she got her brains.”

  “You know, when the twins get older, they’re going to feel left out,” she said while leading me down the hall toward the front door. She wasn’t very subtle.

  “Why? Do they want ponies, too?”

  “Gee, I don’t know, Gage, maybe because their sister is your best friend? And speaking of horses, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate my backyard smelling like manure.”

  “You’re welcome. I hear it’s great fertilizer. And don’t you worry your pretty little head, there’s more where that one came from. The boys won’t be left out. I’m just waiting for them to start talking. Then they’ll be my wingmen. I’ll take them out on the town to pick up chicks. But I have to wait until they can talk, because the last time I tried, it didn’t go so well.”

  “Oh, yeah? What happened?” The lack of interest in her tone wasn’t unusual. It was a good thing I knew she loved me; otherwise, I’d think I annoyed her.

  “One of them started crying—not sure which, they both look the same—and I had asked this hot blonde with huge knockers if I could borrow one of her tits. Needless to say, it didn’t turn out the way I planned.”

  Ellie rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she couldn’t hide the whispered laughter that seeped past her smiling lips. “I probably would’ve believed you had I not just overheard you talk to a toddler about how to keep the mother of your child from leaving you. You talk a good game, Gage, but I can see your playbook.”

  “I should probably let Coach know. He wouldn’t like it if the other teams caught wind of what he had in that thing. A coach’s playbook is like their holy grail.”

  When we made it to the front door, Ellie grabbed the handle but didn’t open it. Instead, she waited until I turned to face her and said, “She’s probably bored. I haven’t spent much time with her to really get to know her well, but the day I was there after her accident was enough to understand her a bit better. I really like her, Gage. She’s good for you, and as odd as it sounds, I think you’re good for her, too.”

  A warmth spread throughout my chest and curled my lips.

  “I honestly don’t think she’s trying to move out of the house and leave you. She’s more than likely applying for jobs to give her something to do while you’re gone. Coby and I may not have been dating when he played, but we were living together. He was my best friend, and when he traveled, it got lonely here. And I was a full-time student with a boyfriend and group of friends to keep me company. So if I had all that to occupy my time and still felt lonely when he was away, imagine how Katie feels.”

  “I’ve tried to get her to come with me, but she won’t.”

  “I know this is all new to you, considering you haven’t had much experience with relationships outside of Missy—who, in my opinion, gave you more freedom than most would—but there’s nothing appealing about living out of a suitcase in one hotel after the other. You’re used to it, she’s not. Plus, she’s pregnant. Airplanes and cheap mattresses are uncomfortable for the normal person; imagine how bad it is for someone who has a baby sleeping on their bladder or digging a heel into their ribs.”

  I nodded because she made sense, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. I didn’t need to feed her ego. Coby would never forgive me if his wife couldn’t fit her head out of the door because I’d told her she was right about something. So a nod was all she’d get from me.

  “Thanks, Ellie.”

  With an easy smile, she opened t
he door to let me out. I’d made it about five steps before she called out after me, “You owe me five hundred bucks for my computer.”

  “Sure thing, kitten.” I tossed a hand in the air without turning around. “Send me a bill.”

  Chapter Eight

  Gage

  When I got home, I found Katie in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot. I moved to stand behind her and tucked my chin into the crook of her neck, my arms around her with my hands on her small belly. Unless she wore a tight shirt, it wasn’t noticeable. If anything, she just looked like she’d put on a little weight, but only in her midsection. I couldn’t wait until she was bigger, though I’d never admit that to her. She already felt like a beached whale, so she didn’t need me making it worse.

  “What are you doing?” she asked with a giggle, trying to turn her head to see my face. When I refused to back away, she went back to stirring the broth in the pot.

  “That smells good. What are you cooking?”

  “Nothing. I’m heating up a can of soup. Want some?”

  “Sure.” I didn’t move from my spot behind her with my chin on her shoulder and hands on her stomach. And before I knew it, I’d closed my eyes.

  “Oh my God, Gage.” Humor lilted her voice. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to feel what it’s like to be pregnant. Standing like this, I can almost convince myself I’m rubbing my own belly.”

  “You’re so weird. Too bad you can’t experience the other parts of pregnancy, too. Like the mood swings, the hormones, cravings, exhaustion, achy feet…you’re truly missing out.”

  If only she knew that I’d gladly deal with those for her if I could.

  “Seriously, though. If you keep touching me like that, I’ll have to take another shower.”

  “Stop moving,” I said into her soft hair. “I wanna see if I can feel him move.”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  “Then wake him up.”

  “She doesn’t want to be woken up.”

  “You’re gonna give him a complex if you keep referring to him as a girl.” I stepped back, but only to turn Katie around to face me. I lowered myself to my knees in front of her and grabbed the hem of her baggy T-shirt to lift it over her stomach.

  “Stop. I’m making lunch.” She tried to swat me away, but I wasn’t having it.

  “Just let me talk to him. Maybe he’ll hear my voice and get excited and start moving around so I can feel him.” I managed to get her to stand still long enough to lift her shirt. Before I could even say the first word to my son, I noticed the waistband of her jeans. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a rubber band. What does it look like?” Dismissing me, she lowered her top and turned back to the stove.

  “No shit it’s a rubber band, but why do you have one looped through the hole and hooked to the button? Did you accidentally buy the wrong size? Why not just return them?” I stood and leaned against the counter next to her. “Oh, I know why. You stole them, didn’t you? So you couldn’t take them back for the right size. Trying to improve your résumé, Houdini?”

  “My what?” A deep crease divided her brows, which would typically be a bad sign, but the corners of her lips were curled up, so I was safe.

  “Your résumé. You know…your rap sheet.”

  “No. I didn’t steal them. And do I even want to know where Houdini came from?”

  “He was a master at tricks, and since you’re a pro at turning them, I felt the name was fitting.” I stepped back when her hand swung through the air, but unfortunately, I wasn’t fast enough to keep from being smacked in the chest. “You know, sooner or later, the guys will start to have suspicions that you’re beating me.”

  “And I’m sure they’ll all agree that you deserved it.”

  “Whatever. Back to your stolen jeans. Why are you using a rubber band to fasten them?”

  “I thought that was obvious. They don’t fit. I can’t button them thanks to you.”

  “What’d I do?” Everything was always my fault.

  “You planted your seed in me, and now my stomach won’t stop growing.”

  “Then why don’t you just get bigger pants?”

  “I don’t see the point in spending money on clothes I’ll only wear for a few months.”

  “What do you plan to do when the rubber band trick doesn’t work anymore?”

  She shrugged and scooped chicken noodle soup into two bowls. “Sweatpants, I guess.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Just go get a couple pairs of jeans to hold you over. You don’t have to go crazy and fill your closet with them, just enough to get you through a few months. And if you’re gonna buy new ones, I suggest going with the plus size.”

  She turned wide eyes my way…this time, there was no smile on her lips. “Plus size? Did you just tell me to buy plus-size jeans?”

  “Yeah. What’s wrong with that? If you’re going to spend money on clothes, you might as well spend it on ones that are made for pregnant women. At least you know they’ll last you until he comes. If you just get a bigger size, you’ll outgrow those and then be in the same boat you are now.”

  “You mean maternity clothes?”

  “Yeah. Do you have something against them? I’m sure they aren’t all bad.”

  “Maternity and plus size are two different things.”

  “No, they aren’t. Gah, do I have to teach you everything? The plus refers to the symbol on those sticks you guys pee on when it comes back positive. Positive means pregnant. Therefore, plus-size jeans equal pregnancy jeans.”

  “Yeah…wow, Gage, I have no idea what I would do without you.” She took both bowls to the table and sat down, not bothering to see if I followed behind her. “Regardless, it seems like a waste of money when you have a few pairs of sweatpants that fit me.”

  I fell into the chair across from her, giving up on the argument of clothes. “Fine. I was just trying to help. But I guess since you’re a woman, you know more about being knocked up than I do, so I’ll let it go. But I’m a guy, and guys know about cars, so let’s discuss yours.”

  “Oh, yeah? How much do you know about cars?”

  “I didn’t say I did. I just said guys do, so by default, I fall into the category of people who know about them. Stop trying to change the subject. The body shop said that without insurance, you’re looking at spending more money to fix it than the car is worth. Normally, insurance would cut you a check for the value had it not been smushed together like an accordion, but since you don’t have insurance, your best bet is to let the shop buy it for scrap parts. It won’t be much, but at least it’s something.”

  “So I don’t have a car? Mine’s totaled?”

  “Looks that way. But no need to fret, Maytag. In the meantime, we can share mine as long as you don’t mind dropping me off and picking me up from the stadium or airport.”

  “There’s no other option?”

  I leaned over my bowl to eat and talk at the same time. “I doubt I can convince any of the guys to come all the way out here every day. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re kinda in the boonies. I could Uber it, but that seems like a waste. And I don’t think hitchhiking would be very safe. We’re surrounded by undeveloped land, lots of trees. Newsflash, I’m pretty. I could be picked up by some kind of sinister criminal—you should know, you are one.”

  She smacked her hand on top of the table to make me stop talking. “No, I mean there’s not another option to fix my car? Wouldn’t her insurance company pay for the damages since she’s the one who hit me?”

  “Oh, yeah. But they won’t pay for the damage caused by you hitting the person in front of you. And honestly, that’s where most of the cost is since it jacked up the engine compartment. You should really count yourself lucky. First, you hit the jockpot by landing me and my offspring. Then you hit a car and walked away without a ticket. The secondary accident is considered your fault because you’re supposed to stay a full car length away at all times. Clearly…you did not. And
if they had decided to ticket you and found out you were driving without insurance, you’d lose your license, as well. I guess you should be happy it was only your car you lost.”

  “The old woman’s insurance will pay for the back, right?” she asked, completely ignoring everything else I said. It was a shame, too, because I made some very valid points, and in my opinion, proved just how intelligent I was.

  I sucked a noodle between my lips with a smack. “Yeah, but what’s the point in having a trunk if you don’t have an engine? Sure, you’d have plenty of room for luggage or bodies or whatnot, but it’s not like you could drive anywhere. And trust me, you don’t wanna get caught with bodies stuffed in your trunk. Without anything under the hood, you’d basically be a sitting duck. But hey…that’s your call, jailbird.”

  “No, what I’m trying to say is, if her insurance covers the back, then I only need to worry about the front damage, right?”

  “Technically, but I have to agree with the mechanic—it doesn’t make sense to spend that kind of money on a car that’s not worth it rather than use that cash to put down on a new one.”

  She rubbed circles around her temple with her elbows propped on the top of the table. “How much money are we talking about here?”

  “He said he wasn’t sure without really getting in there and taking a look, but based on the year of the car and what issues he could see, somewhere in the ballpark of five thousand. Although, that’s not counting the airbags. You had two that blew, and they’re about a grand each to replace. The mechanic wasn’t sure if that would fall on you or the woman’s insurance. So really, it could be seven thousand.”

  “What if I don’t have them fix the airbags?”

  I began to feel like she had crossed the bridge into Desperationville, but I wasn’t sure why. Rather than question her, I decided to just give her as many answers as I could so we could go back to figuring out how we’d work around only having one car. “They won’t do that. It’s a liability. Even I know that.”

  “Gage, there are plenty of shady people who’ll do shit for a buck if you pay them under the table in cash. I’m sure there’s a shop somewhere that’d be willing to patch it up enough to make it drivable.”