Double Play (27 page)

J.D.
made it back to the dugout just in time to join the tail end of players lining
up on the field for the national anthem. He searched the stands, hoping to
catch a glimpse of Halee and coming up short. Gus, Bobby and Rita had landed
seats right behind home plate, thanks to a friend of Coach Smothers. Cameron
and Stephen, decked out in the finest Federals swag money could buy, sat in the
row behind them along with a couple of big brutes J.D. assumed were New York
off duty cops. Just like Bobby to call in his bros. Maybe the rest of the
family was ready to relax with the adoption nearly final and Keeting in jail,
but Bobby remained his vigilant self. It was good to have him as his wing man.

J.D.
heard his jersey number called and stepped forward to wave to the audience.
Deafening cheers erupted, sending his spirits soaring. Above the mayhem, Don
Petrone’s silver tongue assured the fans that J.D. would start at centerfield
despite his recent injuries. The crowd got to its feet. Everywhere he looked
fans held up signs in yellow and black letters that read
Unbreakable Shaw
,
Shaw MVP
, and
J.D. for Governor
.  J.D. couldn’t tell if the mist
clouding his vision was irritation in his injured eye or the emotional reaction
to a lifelong dream coming true, but he was sure of one thing. The Federals
fans still had his back.

“You
the man!” said Simone, giving him a high five. “You can see out of that eye?”

“Barely.
I guess I’ll just have to catch everything from my right side. Hittin’s gonna
be a bitch.”

Simone
nodded. “I got your back, man.”

Coach
Morrison approached looking like a doctor in a cancer ward. He stopped a few
feet in front of J.D. and placed his hands on both hips. “Word is the Hawks
intend to hit everything your way tonight. How’s the shoulder?”

“I’m
more worried about my eye.”

“You
bat left before?”

“Nope.
And I don’t aim to try. Think I’ll do better on instinct.”

Morrison
spit and slid a wad of tobacco to the other side of his cheek. “We’ll try it your
way first round but if it don’t work, you’re gonna have to listen to the
batting coaches for once. There comes a time you can’t rely on talent alone. Go
back to the fundamentals, know what I mean?”

J.D.
nodded.

“Jasper’s
starting on the mound. Hopefully he’ll shut down the Hawks batting so their
plan doesn’t work.” Morrison adjusted his hat. “What’s this shit about Pryor
severing your contract?”

“You’re
one contract behind, Coach. Just signed a new one.”

Morrison
grunted and shook his head. “Let me tell you something. I’ve been in this
business twenty years. Owners come and go. You’re smart to ignore their
bullshit and just play ball. If you’re good enough, you’ll make a living and
have fun doing it.”

Simone
handed J.D. his glove and a pair of goggles. “Smothers said wear these,” he
said. “Protect your eye.”

Morrison
nodded to both players. “You boys go out there and play like champions.”

J.D.
headed for centerfield and tipped his hat to the noisy sea of black and gold
jerseys, well aware that the trust of his fan base could be broken in a matter
of a few fielding errors. World Series tickets didn’t come cheap, and J.D. knew
many of the people in the crowd tonight had sacrificed quite a bit to be here.
They were counting on him to make their dreams come true just as they had made
his dreams come true by believing in him. He couldn’t let them down.

The
first Hawks batter approached the plate and pointed his bat toward centerfield.
So Morrison had heard right. This really was all out war and the Hawks recognized
J.D. as the weakest link. It would be up to J.D. to prove them wrong. The
batter swung like a drunken sailor and missed the first two balls, then
connected on a tap to first. Easy out.

J.D.
huffed and puffed like an expectant father and watched as the second batter
approached the plate. Jim Sturges was an old acquaintance from the minor
leagues and J.D. knew from experience that, unlike the first batter, Sturges
liked to take his time and wait for just the right pitch, then nail it over the
fence. When he lifted his bat and pointed to centerfield, J.D. knew the
possibilities were large that Sturges could deliver. As expected, Sturges
remained patient while two balls slid past. Then on the third pitch, he
connected and sent the ball soaring high, almost hanging in the breeze until it
finally landed clean and tight into J.D.’s glove. Two down. J.D. flipped the
ball to Simone to the delight of his adoring fans and prepared himself for the
third batter.

Tres
Falmore was new to the big leagues, fresh from the Arizona minors, and unlike
J.D. had yet to make a name for himself. But J.D. knew that the guys who arrived
without fanfare were still there for a reason and shouldn’t be underestimated.
Like the batters before him, Tres pointed his bat toward centerfield and
hunched over home plate in the pitcher’s direct line of fire. J.D. braced
himself for a walk, and on the first pitch, that’s exactly what happened. Tres
took a ball to the ribs and went down in the dirt. Within minutes he was off
the field and a pinch runner who looked like he had a successful history in
track and field was on first, teasing Jasper with the threat of a stolen base.

Jasper
remained calm and sent three strikes in a row across home plate. The fourth
batter never swung.

J.D.
and Simone ran into the dugout, fired up and ready for action. Morrison met
J.D. at the steps. “I moved you up in the batting order,” he said. “They’re
starting Carter. He’s a southpaw. That’ll complicate things. Just take it easy
and see what happens. No pressure this time up.”

J.D.
slid into a set of broken in batting gloves, grabbed his favorite wooden bat
and headed for the on deck circle. The goggles Doc Smothers insisted he wear
were fogging up in the high humidity. He pulled them down and let them hang
around his neck, allowing him a clear view of Franklin at bat. Franklin wasted
no time, taking a slug at the first pitch from Carter and sending it deep along
the third base warning track. The crowd’s excitement rose, then fell as they
watched the ball turn foul. Carter delivered the next pitch low and tight.
Franklin let it go by.

“Straighten
it out this time, Franklin!” yelled Talmey from the dugout.

Franklin
took that advice, lopping the next ball over the shortstop’s head and crossing
first base without incident.

It
was J.D.’s turn to shine. He pulled his goggles up around his eyes and sunk in
close to home plate. His vision was surprisingly clear. He turned his head a
little more toward the pitcher’s mound, allowing his right eye a better view.
Carter smirked as if to say
easy out
.

“Nice
shiner, Shaw,” said the catcher, signaling a series of finger combinations to
Carter. “Hit it again and that eye might drop out of your head.”

The
first pitch arrived low and inside, forcing J.D. to jump back slightly to avoid
being hit. The crowd booed.

“Send
it outa the park, Shaw!” someone yelled behind him.

J.D.
tapped his shoes with his bat and took a deep breath. Had he turned his head at
the last minute? Was he protecting his eye without realizing it? Everybody knew
the adage once bitten twice shy. Had he suddenly turned shy? He watched the
third base coach signal instructions. Carter wound up and rocketed a fastball
across the plate. J.D. swung and missed.

“Strike!”
the umpire called. The crowd moaned.

J.D.
stepped out of the batter’s box and looked to the third base coach. Had he lost
his mojo? Was this the end to a short career? He thought of his father lying on
the gurney in the E.R. that fateful day, of Faye’s sun stained face, of the
wind swept red soiled plains of Oklahoma and the smell of the cotton fields
after a rain. “He’s come so far,” an old teacher had once said about him. Maybe
far wasn’t where he needed to be.

The
third base coach gave more signs, this time advising J.D. to wait for the next
pitch. J.D. rolled his shoulders and stepped back to the plate. Carter wrapped
his fingers around the ball for another fastball and J.D. saw opportunity in
the air. He connected in the sweet spot and in another few seconds the ball
slammed into the left field fence and rolled off as J.D. sailed into second on
a stand up double. Franklin stuck to third.  The crowd went wild.

“You
can look now, Halee,” Bobby said with a grin.

Halee
uncovered her eyes and blew out the breath she’s been holding since J.D.’s
first pitch. Gus shook his head. “You’re gonna have to work on that, Honey.”

J.D.
played with the Velcro on his batting gloves and watched the third base coach. “You
think that shiner’s pretty,” said the Hawks second baseman, “just see what
happens if you try and steal third.”

“You’re
soundin’ a little desperate, Trenton,” said J.D.

Favier
showboated up to the plate, rap music blaring to announce his arrival. He
adjusted his gloves, set his helmet tighter on his head, and crouched down for
the first pitch. J.D. angled himself off second base in an effort to distract
Carter. Franklin did the same. Favier half-heartedly tapped on the ball,
allowing an easy out at first. J.D. and Franklin stayed on base.

“C’mon,
Simone!” Bobby yelled from the crowd. “Don’t leave our boys stranded!”

Simone
strolled up to the plate and sized up the situation. Pacing a little to the
left, then a little to the right, he made Carter wait. Then with exceptional
dramatic flair, he pointed his bat toward right field. The crowd screamed with
laughter and thumped their seats in an escalating rhythm. Carter painted on a
mean face and checked runners. Simone stepped out. The ump called time. J.D.
grinned from second base, suddenly confident that the Federals would take it
all home tonight. Maybe the Hawks brought just as much talent as the Federals
to this Series. Fans would no doubt debate that for years to come. But there
was a certain confidence to the Federals that no team could match and tonight
that confidence had peaked. More than ever, this team was in charge of the
show, and the show was going to be one New York would never forget.

Simone
dug his heels into the dirt and hung his body over home plate. Carter turned
his fingers to line up a slider. Simone watched the ball sail past and into the
catcher’s glove.

“Strike!”
called the ump.

“Very
bad call, Ump,” said Simone in a quiet voice. “Very bad. Simone did not like
that pitch.”

The
catcher settled in for the next pitch and so did Simone. Again he watched the
ball slide by and the ump repeated his strike call. Simone simply shook his
head and looked thoughtfully at the scoreboard. After a full minute, he
re-engaged, hunkering down and staring intently as Carter wound up and hurled a
fastball in his direction.

Simone’s
bat hit leather, driving the ball up and over the heads of the Hawks and into
the seventeenth row of the bleachers. Firecrackers exploded as three Federals stepped
on home plate. J.D. delivered high fives to a long row of his team mates,
grabbed a cold water and headed for the bench, grinning from ear to ear.

“Jonathan
Dillon Shaw?” asked a man in a trench coat just as he was settling in.

“That’s
right.”

The
man handed him an envelope. “I’m here to serve you papers. You need to appear
in court first thing Monday morning. You’re being sued by the Federals
organization.”

J.D.’s
grin faded. “There must be some kind of mistake.”

“No
mistake. It’s all in the packet,” said the man.

“What’s
this about?”

“I
just serve the summons,” said the man. He fixed his hat back on his head and
turned to go. “Nice hit, by the way.”

“Shaw!
Inning’s over. Get out on the field!”

J.D.
tucked the envelope inside his batting helmet and slid it on the shelf, then
grabbed his hat and glove and headed for centerfield. Simone came running out
behind him. “Don’t forget these,” he said, tossing J.D. his goggles. “What you
look so bummed out for? We just about to clinch the Series, man.”

“Not
so fast, my friend. We got eight more innings.”

“What
kind of spirit be that?” Simone asked, shaking his head.

The
Hawks went down one two three with no action in the outfield. J.D. raced back
to the dugout, extracted the envelope, and read the first page, then hurled his
glove at the wall in disgust.  Smothers came up behind him. “Bad news?”

“Pryor’s
suing me for contract fraud.”

Smothers
busted out laughing. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“You’re
fucking kidding me, right?” said Favier.

A
small crowd formed. Franklin read the cover sheet of the summons and shook his
head. “Who’s next? You bust your balls for these people and this is how they
treat you.”

“Don’t
let those little boy twins of yours play ball, Franklin,” said Favier.

“You
don’t have to take this shit,” said Jasper. “You’re gonna have a dozen ball
clubs begging you to wear your jersey when we win this pennant.”

Simone
stared at J.D. thoughtfully. “It is for a reason.”

“What
are you talking about?” asked J.D.

“The
shoulder, the eye, now the legal trouble. It makes you think.”

“About
what?”

“About
the future. About what is most important.”

“I
already know what’s important,” said J.D.

“But
do you choose it?”

“Inning’s
over,” called Morrison. “Get back out there.”

J.D.
stared at Simone another moment, then grabbed his bat and helmet and headed for
the field.

“I
did a terrible thing.”

Halee
moved away from the crowd of exuberant Federals fans and turned up the volume
on her cell phone. It was already the bottom of the sixth inning and Jack was
nowhere in sight. Their presentation was just moments away and they hadn’t had
a chance to rehearse. Halee felt her stomach tighten. She reminded herself to
stay calm.

“What
did you do, Faye? What’s wrong?”

“I
bought the ranch.”

“What
ranch?”

“Hank’s
ranch. I bought it for the taxes.”

Halee
dropped her jaw and started to giggle. “You bought Hank’s ranch?”

“Right
out from under him.”

“I
didn’t know you wanted it.”

“I
didn’t either till Carly Gershall told me about Hank losing the ranch on
account of delinquent taxes and how some New York woman had an offer in and I
just lost my wits and before you know it I was writin’ the check.”

“Thanks
fantastic, Faye!” cried Halee. “Does J.D. know?”

“I
can’t tell him. I’m afraid he’ll be upset with me.”

“Why
would he be upset?”

“I
used up pert near all the money he’s ever sent me. He was expecting me to use
that for other things.”

“I
can’t think of anything better to spend it on, Faye. J.D. is going to be over
the moon!”

“You
think so?”

“I
know so.” Halee heard the crowd cheer the end of the sixth inning and glanced
around one more time for Jack. “I have to go, Faye.”

“Halee?
Will you tell J.D. for me?”

“Sure,”
said Halee, heading for the field. “I’ll call you later tonight. And Faye?
Congratulations!” She disconnected and slid her cell phone into her raincoat
pocket. Taking a deep breath, she read through her lines one more time, then
headed to the pitcher’s mound as the Federals announcer prepped the crowd for
her presentation.

“Ladies
and Gentlemen, please direct your attention to the pitcher’s mound and Halee
McCarthy representing Federals Charities,” said the announcer. “Halee will be followed
by a special presentation by J.D. Shaw.”

All
aisle traffic stopped at the mention of J.D’s name. Halee fumbled with her
script, sorting through the three pages and trying to arrange them in order but
getting more and more mixed up by the minute. She hated public speaking. Where
was Jack? She’d just spent the afternoon with him on his plane and he hadn’t
said a word about missing tonight. He and Bobby had stayed behind at the
airport while she and J.D. were escorted by NYPD to the game. She hoped
everything was alright.

She
took a big calming breath, leaned into the microphone, and began her speech.
“One out of five adults in New York read below a third grade level. Federals
Charities is determined to cut that number in half.” Her voice was shaking. No
one was listening, she could tell. She stood a little taller, leaned back in
and continued. “One dollar from each of your tickets tonight will go toward
literacy activities in New York and together make a big difference in thousands
of lives.”

A
general buzz travelled through the stands followed by a wave of claps and
whistles. Halee looked up and smiled as J.D. approached the microphone looking
dirty and tired and very, very happy. She suddenly felt much calmer. J.D. was
as comfortable with a crowd of thousands as he was in a room of a dozen people.
His confidence was contagious. He removed his ball cap and waved it at the sea
of black and gold jerseys, then leaned in and kissed her on her damp cheek. “You’re
doing good,” he assured her. “Let me give it a try.”  He took the script from
Halee’s shaking hands and leaned toward the microphone. “Hello, Everybody. I
want you to meet Halee McCarthy.”

The
crowd roared. J.D. wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“I
want you to know her because Halee is a very special person. Halee spends most
of her time helping poor people read. When she’s not doing that, she’s raising
money to make sure people get a chance at achieving their full potential.
Halee’s a true champion.”

The
crowd clapped and whistled.

“I
met Halee about a year and a half back and I ain’t never been able to get her
off my mind.”

A
couple of guys catcalled from the third base side. “She’s hot, J.D.!” somebody
shouted. A murmur flowed through the crowd as the anticipation began to build.

Halee’s
heart picked up its pace. “J.D.? Honey?” she said softly. “What are you doing?”

“Now
y’all know I got a reputation,” said J.D., taking Halee’s hand and holding
tight. “Too many women and too many parties. Ain’t a day goes by, the papers don’t
print me in a picture with a posse of fun lovin’ people.”

The
crowd laughed along with J.D. Halee’s throat tightened. What had happened to
the script? What was J.D. doing on the pitcher’s mound with her?

“But
those days are over, Ladies.” J.D. turned toward Halee and took both her hands.
“Halee here’s stolen my heart.” J.D. dropped to one knee and pressed his lips
to Halee’s hand. The crowd gasped in unison and got very quiet. Halee thought
she could hear women crying.

“Halee
McCarthy, I know I ain’t good enough for ya.”

“Oh
my God!” screamed a woman near first base.

Halee’s
knees started to shake and her lower lip quivered.

“But
I’m prayin’ you feel the same way I do. I can’t live without you, Baby.  Tell
me you love me, Halee. Tell me you’ll marry me and make me the happiest man in
the world.”

Halee
opened her mouth but no words came out. Deep, raw emotion was choking off any
response. She dropped to both knees in front of the man she loved and fell into
his kiss.

The
crowd went wild.
She said yes
!!! flashed across every scoreboard.
Fireworks blasted through the back of the outfield billboard.

“Ladies
and Gentlemen,” said Don from the announcer’s booth. “That’s better than a
grand slam at the World Series. Let’s hear a round of applause congratulating
the happy couple.”

Halee
began to giggle in J.D.’s arms. She leaned into his strong chest and closed her
eyes, hoping to capture this moment for a lifetime. She felt his arms around
her, sheltering her from all her troubles, all the ones present and all the
ones to come. Three months ago she’d been sure she would have to travel through
this lifetime alone. Now the man of her dreams was offering to make that
journey beside her. Cinderella wasn’t a fairy tale after all.

Bobby
gently brushed away the tears flowing down Rita’s red cheeks and leaned in to
kiss her. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to make it a double wedding,”
he said, taking her hand in his.

“Omigod!”
Rita cried, pressing her face into his chest. “I thought you’d never ask!”