Champagne Brunch: The Stiletto Sisters Series

by Ainsley St Claire

  “No news from my side about a trade,” I assure him. “You’re doing awesome. Why would they want to trade you?”

  “I don’t know. Raymond was talking smack in the locker room yesterday.”

  I sigh. “You know he’s only jealous. Why don’t you come over tonight after the game? We can order a pie and play some Fortnite.”

  “Sure. What time were you thinking?”

  He’s upbeat, which is always good. I look at my watch. The Prospectors play at two, and I was going to stop by. “We’ll head back to my place after the game. I’m out with SoBe giving him a good walk and then I’ll drop him at home and head over.”

  “Cool. See you after the game. Thanks, man.”

  “Of course.”

  I stand up, and SoBe begins walking home with me trailing. Who’s the dog and who’s the owner?

  Once I get him fed and settled in at home, I call a rideshare to Prospector Park, which is right here in the City, just across town.

  “Great day for a game,” the driver says.

  “Agreed.”

  “You go to games by yourself?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Why not? Better to see them at the stadium than at home on my couch.”

  He lets me out at the curb, I enter the stadium through the main gate. Inside I just flash my badge and walk up to the owners’ box. It’s wall to wall people. There are almost forty members in the consortium that owns the team, but usually not everyone comes to the same games.

  “Axel, my man.” Nate Lancaster, one of the largest shareholders of the consortium, pounds my back and shakes my hand.

  “Nate, great to see you.”

  “You rep Jeremy Hamilton, right?”

  I nod. “Also, Crispin Meyer and Jake Garcia.” I’m not sure why I needed to say that, but while Jeremy is my most popular player, Crispin and Jake are great, too.”

  Nate’s eyes grow large. “You’ve got a great eye for talent.”

  “Thank you. Jeremy played with both of them in the minors, and they came over together.”

  We make small talk for a bit longer, and before I know it, the crowd is doing the seventh-inning stretch. I make my excuses and step out. The team should pull off a win against the Dodgers today.

  My cellphone pings as I walk down toward the locker room. I can’t enter until the game is over and the press is allowed in. Jeremy usually likes to leave before it gets too crazy. He hates dealing with the press. They’ve dissected everything about him, so I don’t blame him.

  Jeremy: I think Crispin and Jake may come tonight. Is that okay?

  I grin. Crispin and Jake are both eighteen and can’t drink without it flashing across the tabloids and gossip sites, so the team leaves the three of them behind.

  Me: The more the merrier. I’ll be sure to order two extra pies and a case of Coke.

  When I get to my place close to the locker room door, I lean against the wall, out of the way, and scroll through highlights of some of the high school baseball standouts on my cell phone. There are groupies hanging out, but I don’t pay attention.

  “Hi, I’m Dawn.”

  I look up. She’s young but cute with her blond curls and short shorts and a halter top.

  “Hi.”

  “You’re Jeremy Hamilton’s agent, right?”

  People don’t usually know who I am. My name tag is backward—I’m wearing it as required, but it doesn’t have my name or my company showing.

  I don’t say anything and just watch her, waiting to see what she wants.

  “I’m a fan.”

  Ah. She’s stalking my client. That happens when you’re seventeen and already have a three-hundred-million-dollar, six-year contract. It attracts the gold diggers.

  “Jeremy’s a good player,” I concede.

  She arches her back, making sure I don’t miss her D cups. “I’m a fan of yours.”

  I scrutinize her. “Um, thanks, I think.”

  “I’m in my third year at Berkeley Law, and I want to get into sports management.”

  Oh, she’s one of those. “It’s a competitive business.” She’ll attract the guys who want to sleep with her, but that will get old unless she can prove her value. She’ll struggle with some of the older owners, but you never know.

  She nods. “It is. Are you open to an internship? I’ve spoken to your assistant, but I get the impression she’s not interested in competition.”

  My brow furrows. “Competition?”

  “For your attention,” she explains.

  I’ll give her points for confidence, but she’s way off the mark. Kelly Spencer is in her mid-fifties and happily married to her wife of many years. Not only am I too young, I’m not her type.

  “Send your resume, along with all the documents the agency looks for from potential interns. It’s on the website.”

  “I’ve already done that, which is why I’m here.”

  She puts her finger in her mouth and bites it, looking up at me through her lashes. She’s about as subtle as a Mack truck. I’m so not interested. There’s something to be said about the chase.

  “Sorry. I can’t help you. Human Resources in LA makes the decisions.” I hear the roar of the crowd, which indicates the game is over. “Excuse me,” I say leaving her to head to the manager’s office.

  “It’s a crock of shit,” Frank Mendez says as soon as he sees me.

  I know he’s referring to the trade rumors Jeremy mentioned. I shrug. “It has him anxious, and he pitches in tomorrow’s game. If he’s worried, we all know he won’t do well.”

  “I fucking hate Raymond for starting this shit,” Mendez says. “Mostly because he knows what it does to Jeremy.”

  I couldn’t agree more, but I also know Jeremy needs to grow up a bit so it doesn’t bother him. “I’ll talk to him tonight. I’m taking the Three Amigos for dinner and an evening of Fortnite.”

  “Good, because the team lawyer needs to talk to you.”

  I raise my brows. “What’s up?”

  He leans in so those outside his office can’t hear. “Jeremy got some stalker mail.”

  I look at him as my stomach tightens. “How bad?”

  “We’re reporting it to the police, and they’ll want to interview him. We’ll try to postpone until after he pitches tomorrow, but we want to go over it with you.”

  I nod. It comes with the territory, but it must be bad if they’re going to the police. “Thanks, Mendez.”

  I walk back into the locker room, which is crazy, with players in various phases of getting dressed, as well as trainers and coaches scurrying around.

  “Dude,” Crispin says. “Thanks for letting us hang tonight.”

  “Of course. I can kick your ass on Fortnite any time.”

  He chuckles. Both Crispin and Jake had good games today. Crispin slid in left field to catch a short hit and due to his speed in getting the ball to third base, they got a double play. And Jake hit a fly ball that had a bad bounce but resulted in a run batted in, and he made it to first base. We have plenty to celebrate tonight.

  I talk to all three of the players for a few minutes before I make an excuse to see the front-office folks. Jeremy looks nervous. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t have anything to do with a trade,” I tell him. “I’ll be back. Don’t leave without me.”

  Mendez and I take the internal elevator upstairs to the General Manager’s office. As soon as we enter, we’re waved in.

  “I don’t have the letter on me, but it has a high ick factor, so we’re reporting it,” says GM George Jordan. “They’ve agreed to meet with Jeremy after the game tomorrow. Can you be with him? He may be emancipated from his parents, but he’s still a kid.”

  I cross my arms and nod. “Of course. Crispin Meyer, Jake Garcia, and Jeremy are coming over to my place for pizza and video games tonight. I’m not going to say anything until after the game tomorrow.”

  “That’s a great plan. We want to finish this series with the Dodgers on a high note.”

  That’s code
for they want a win and to limit the distractions. I get it. Baseball is full of superstitions, and it goes all the way up to the owners’ box. We discuss the logistics, and then I head out and meet the guys for the ride over to my place.

  When the rideshare drops us at my condo, Mindy is out on her patio. “Hey, Axel!”

  She waves, and despite the gray day, she’s in a hat and oversized sunglasses. The guys all stop to look at her. She’s wearing what’s supposed to be a bikini top, but it’s like two tiny eye patches that don’t exactly cover much more than her nipples. It’s chilly outside so she’s definitely on high beams.

  “Mindy,” I reply.

  “Wow, it looks like you’re having a party.”

  I choke. “Nope. Just friends getting together to play Fortnite and eat pizza.”

  “Ohh. I can bring tequila,” she offers. She turns to the boys and licks her lips.

  “Thanks, but the guys are too young to drink. Enjoy your evening.”

  She looks confused and tentatively waves.

  As we enter my place, SoBe comes running out to greet us. He loves the guys, and they lavish him with attention. I peek out the window and don’t see Mindy, but I’m sure she’s there, waiting for an excuse to pounce. I do see the pizza delivery guy, so I walk to the front door to pay for dinner. The guys will each mow through a pie, which is fine. They can burn it off in seconds, and I’m stuck working out. I don’t mind. It’s good for me.

  “Why are you not hitting that?” Jake jacks his thumb toward the door when I return.

  I must have a strange look on my face.

  “That woman is really into you,” Crispin points out. “She’d probably let us tag-team her, if we asked.”

  I don’t think he’s wrong. “She’s not my type,” I try to explain. “And just because a woman is willing doesn’t make it a good idea.” I guess that’s the difference between being eighteen and thirty-two.

  “How can a woman so into you not be your type?” Jake asks.

  He’s not trying to be an ass; he’s really trying to figure it out. He’s a good-looking kid and has plenty of women interested, but like Jeremy and Crispin, he’s shy.

  “I like her self-confidence,” I say, attempting to be diplomatic. “But she lives in my building. After we had a fun romp, she might want more, and I don’t do relationships. Her feelings would be hurt, and then she’d be angry, and it would make it hard to live here.”

  “She could spank me and do whatever she wanted as long as I got to see what she has underneath those little scraps of material she calls a top,” Crispin says.

  The guys all laugh.

  I hold up my hand. “Her name is Mindy, and you should treat all women with respect, even if they don’t have that same respect for themselves.”

  It doesn’t take long before we’re playing our video game and all conversation has ceased. It’s like I have three little brothers. After a few hours, Crispin and Jake head home, but Jeremy sticks around.

  “Are you sure Raymond was only yanking my chain?” he asks.

  I nod. “Talked to Mendez myself, and I met with George on another matter, and he didn’t even bring it up. I also talked to Nate Lancaster during the game. He would have given me a heads up if they were looking to trade you. You’re the diamond in their crown. Raymond is doing this to upset you and throw off your timing so he’ll get more time pitching. Put it out of your mind.”

  SoBe is curled up on the couch next to him. He thinks he’s a little eighty-two-pound lap dog.

  “You’re welcome to stay here tonight,” I tell him.

  “Thanks,” Jeremy says, looking around. “I appreciate it.”

  I don’t know if he knows about the stalker, or if he’s really that nervous about being traded, but he settles himself in my guest room. He stays here a few nights a week, and I don’t mind. He’s a good kid.

  SoBe sticks with Jeremy, so I’m on my own. When my head hits the pillow, I’m out.

  “Great game.” People keep patting Jeremy on the back the next evening after his win. The Prospectors finished off the Dodgers quickly and easily today.

  Jeremy did have a great game, and right now he’s busy changing clothes, but I can see Jonas Raymond having a fit by his locker. I’m not about to let him get into Jeremy’s head. Once he’s pulled his shirt over his head, I steer him so Jonas is out of his line of sight.

  After Jeremy does his press conference, it’s time for our chat. “Jeremy, the team received a letter from a fan that concerns them. Before you go, we need to go upstairs and meet with the GM and the police.”

  Jeremy’s mouth drops open, and his eyes grow large. “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “I’ll be right there with you. You’ve done nothing wrong, but this person is a little too aggressive, and we need to make sure you’re okay.”

  “They’re not trading me?”

  I laugh. “I almost wish they would after your game today. We could double your contract.”

  He smiles, and I take him through the back elevators to the front office. From there we’re ushered into George Jordan’s office. With the GM are Nate Lancaster and Henry Strong, the team’s lawyer, along with a detective from the San Francisco police department.

  They make introductions, and Detective Eric Lenning begins.

  “You had quite the game,” he notes.

  “Thank you,” Jeremy says. “It’s a team effort to win a baseball game. I’m just glad to be part of such a great team.” I can tell he’s nervous, and he’s been coached by a public relations specialist.

  “You must be exhausted after a day like today. I heard you threw over a hundred and ten pitches, and your first pitch was one hundred miles an hour and the last pitch had even more heat—over a hundred and five miles an hour.” Lenning shakes his head. “That’s pretty impressive. I’m hoping you take us to the World Series.”

  Jeremy smiles. That’s what he’s hoping for, too. He looks down and mutters, “Thanks.”

  “You must get a lot of attention with that kind of fastball,” the detective pushes.

  Jeremy shrugs. “Some.”

  “Any of it bad?”

  Jeremy looks at me, alarmed.

  “They’re not talking about teammates,” I assure him. “They mean has anyone left you notes or gifts at your apartment?”

  Jeremy shakes his head slowly, obviously confused. “Noooooo.”

  “Any women more aggressive recently?”

  “I don’t think so. Certainly not like Axel’s neighbor.”

  I feel my face heat. “Uh, yeah. One of my neighbors is a bit overly friendly.”

  Everyone is looking at me.

  I sigh. “Yesterday she greeted Crispin, Jake, Jeremy, and me in a very tiny bikini top.”

  “What did she say?” Detective Lenning asks.

  “She offered to bring tequila to our party,” Jeremy contributes helpfully.

  “Did you have a party?” the GM asks.

  “No, not at all,” I assure everyone. “As you know, the guys aren’t old enough for liquor, so we thanked her and moved on. We ordered pizza and played video games.”

  “And she never came over, even after the guys left?” Detective Lenning confirms.

  I shake my head. “No. She doesn’t know what I do for a living and had no idea who the guys were yesterday.”

  “Do you encourage her?” Detective Lenning probes.

  I shake my head.

  “Axel told us we should respect women, even if they don’t always respect themselves,” Jeremy offers.

  Everyone looks at me, and I feel like what I said isn’t playing well. I don’t dare elaborate for fear of making it worse.

  George clears his throat. “Son, have you received any unwanted attention recently?”

  I nod at Jeremy.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” he says.

  “Has anything happened that may have made you uncomfortable?”

  Jeremy shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”


  “What about a girlfriend? Do you have a girlfriend?” Detective Lenning asks.

  Jeremy shakes his head. “No.”

  “Any girls you hang out with?”

  “No.”

  Eventually they exhaust their supply of questions and send him on his way. I stick around and promise Jeremy I’ll follow up with him later.

  “He spends a lot of time with you?” Nate asks.

  “Yes. He emancipated himself last year, so he’s here in the City alone. He has a business manager who takes care of his spending and invests his money, but he’s just a kid. As you can see, he’s pretty shy. I think when my neighbor presented herself yesterday, he was embarrassed by her appearance and didn’t know how to handle it when she offered to bring tequila over.”

  “Makes sense that he wouldn’t necessarily recognize if someone were being too aggressive with him.” Detective Lenning nods.

  “Are you willing to share what was in the letter?” I ask.

  Detective Lenning looks at me a few moments. I don’t understand the reluctance. Finally, he removes a piece of paper from his pocket. It’s a photocopy of a handwritten letter.

  Dear Mr. Jordan,

  I’m writing you on behalf of my fiancé, Jeremy Hamilton. Moving forward, we request that you forward all information regarding issues, his status on the team, and salary negotiations to me. Jeremy is my king and soon-to-be husband. From this day forward, our decisions will be made as one. I’m in charge.

  Kitten

  I re-read the letter several times. “I’m assuming there was a return address, a phone number, or an email address?”

  “She included Jeremy’s address, so that’s part of our concern. She knows where he lives.” He takes the paper back and returns it to his jacket pocket. “It may be nothing, but we need to keep our eyes peeled.”

  “I understand. He’s a good kid with a lot of talent, but he’s only seventeen and grew up in a sheltered community.” I carefully add, “He doesn’t have much life experience.”