Rookie Mistake: A Sports Romance Novel (The Beasts of Baseball Book 1) (22 page)

“Leave!” I shouted, my tone deadly serious.

The noise woke the girls, and they stirred against one another.
Still pretty damn sexy, even now.

To my amazement, Caroline simply turned and looked directly into my eyes. She smiled.
Smiled.
But it was a look so evil it gave me chills. In the next instant, she started crying and screaming, “Calvin, how could you do this to me? Didn’t I mean anything to you?”

Then she lifted her phone, and I
knew.

The camera was on, and it was pointing straight at my dick.

She continued to cry and turned the camera on the girls, then back at me. I lunged, trying to get it, but she scampered around the bed, screaming for help. I froze.

This was bad.

Not just in an I’m-a-grower-not-a-shower or the-world-is-going-to-judge-my-deflated-Johnson way either. She was setting me up, and if I touched her right now, I’d go to jail. And even worse than that, she would sell this video to the tabloids, or at least show it to Whitney.

That smile she gave me was evil. And now I knew why.

Heather was the first to fully realize what was happening and pulled the sheets over her body. The blonde just laid there, her legs open while Caroline videoed with glee.

I lunged again, determined to get the phone, then froze. She’d pulled a damn gun from her bag. The girls screamed, and I backed up a step while I looked down the barrel.

“Don’t,” I said, but she just laughed and began backing away from the room, the camera and gun still pointed at me.

Once she was at the door, she smirked, the lips I’d once thought so beautiful now vile.

“I hate you, Calvin,” she cried for the camera’s sake, then gave me a little wink. Then she was gone, her shoes clicking down the steps, the front door slamming behind her.

I was so fucked.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

e

Calvin

I
walked into the locker room feeling like a man broken into many pieces. One part of me was elated that Whitney even talked to me while another feared for the worst. Caroline had a bomb in her hands, and I didn’t know if or when she would drop it. Or how big the explosion would be.

Coach Griffin was writing something on his clipboard when I approached. He looked up; his eyes were cold and tired. It was obvious he’d had a rough run this season, and I knew I was partly to blame.

“What do you need, Malone?” he groaned.

“I want to apologize to you, sir.” I stood tall and straight and looked him directly in the eye. “I know I’ve been a real ass, a real problem for this team more than an asset.” I cleared my throat, swallowing down the emotion that wanted to choke me. “I will no longer treat you, this team, or myself with such disrespect.”

His eyes widened, and his lips curled into a smile. He stood and extended his hand across the desk, then quickly pulled it back. Instead, he walked around the desk, gripped me tightly, and gave me a big squeeze. “I’m so glad to hear you’re back. I’ve missed the old Malone.”

“Me too, sir,” I admitted and fought back the urge to sob. One deep breath, and I was pulled together.
I didn’t get why it was so hard for women to calm down.

“Let’s have a great game today,” he said, and I nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

He grabbed his whistle to get everyone’s attention. “We’re going to clean up this field,” he yelled, beginning his team pep talk. I listened to the familiar rhythm of his speech, really hearing him as he inspired us, getting us riled up and ready to fight for victory out on the field.

We’d all been at the stadium for hours, but as he cheered, we all looked fresh and ready to go. I pulled on my uniform, ready to prove that the Beasts hadn’t made a mistake by hiring me.

And they hadn’t.

Another no-hitter. My pitching was on point, and I felt more focused than ever before as I stood on that mound. I finally had a purpose again, a reason to want to succeed.

It was never just about me. It was always about Whitney and our future together. That was very clear to me now.

“Ready to celebrate, wild man?” Ace asked and patted me on the back.

“Not tonight,” I said and walked towards Marty.

I slung my arm around his shoulders and told him how sorry I was for acting like an ass the other night. He was a nice guy, so he accepted my apology, but I felt I needed to make it up to him.

“I called Whitney,” I confessed. “And she actually answered.”

The light in his eyes told me he truly did care. I told him about our conversation and how she was thinking about coming back.

“I’m very happy for you,” he said with a genuine smile. “Are you going to the club?”

I shook my head. His grin widened, and I could see he was proud of me.
I was too!

“You too good to hang out with us now?” Ace yelled as I walked across the parking lot. I’d avoided him in the locker room, and he was obviously not used to rejection. “Malone!” he yelled when I kept going.

I stopped, turned, and watched him walk towards me swiftly. His arms were swinging from side to side, and he was obviously pissed off.

“I just want to go home, what’s wrong with that?”

“You’re just acting like a little bitch,” he snarled, then spit next to my foot.

I ignored it. “Just trying to get myself back on track. If that makes me a little bitch, then I guess I am.”

His nose wrinkled up, and he let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, you gotta run home to mommy Caroline?” he asked.

“No, you can have her,” I told him. “I did talk to Whitney though.” I wanted to punch myself in the face for admitting it.

His eyes darkened and squinted when I mentioned her name. “You still living that pipe dream, hot shot?”

“It’s not a pipe dream. She’s considering coming back, so don’t mess it up for me.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

“Nothing,” I said on a long breath. “I just seem to piss her off when you’re around, so just leave me be.”

“You telling me to back off, kid?” he asked, looking more pissed off than I’d ever seen him.

“Yeah, I guess that’s exactly what I’m doing,” I said, standing my ground.

His chin bumped against mine, and his eyes were locked on mine with an angry stare. He was big bad Ace Newman, and I guess I was supposed to be scared.
I wasn’t.

I’d seen this man fall down drunk, piss his pants when he couldn’t get his dick out quick enough, and snort drugs up his nose. He wasn’t scary, but he was trouble, and that I didn’t need. Now or ever again.

“Watch yourself, kid,” he warned.

I gave him a small smile. “I plan to.”

When I turned to walk to my car, I half expected him to come after me, to swing at me, and possibly knock me to the ground, but he didn’t.

All he did was yell out another empty threat. “I can take you down anytime I want, hot shot. You hear me? Any fucking time I want!”

I climbed into my car and pulled out, leaving a pile of smoke around badass Ace Newman.
What a joke!

I drove to my ridiculously lavish bachelor pad and pulled into my ridiculously large garage and sat in my ridiculous sports car just thinking. None of this mattered, the car, the house, even the game. Not without Whitney. I felt foolish as I got out of the shiny black Porsche and walked into my house. Whitney would find this over the top as well, that much I knew for certain.

I had become Ace Newman, or at least a version of him. Somewhere, somehow, I’d lost myself well before I lost Whitney. My phone rang as I stood in my entry way and stared at the mostly empty palace I’d been living in. I reached into my pocket, hoping to see Whitney’s face on my screen, but instead saw Marty’s.

“Hey, Marty, what’s up?”

“I heard Ace threatening you today.” His voice sounded almost panicked.

“Yeah, no big deal, just a lot of barking, no bite,” I assured him.

“You don’t know that, Calvin, be careful,” he warned. “I’m serious.”

I get it, he was serious. He was back on his paranoia kick where everyone in baseball worked in a conspiracy circle to fuck over players. “I’m fine Marty, relax,” I insisted.

“I-I don’t trust him, Calvin,” he stammered. “You shouldn’t either.”

I knew there was some truth to what Marty was saying, I couldn’t trust Ace, but surely not to the extent he was claiming. The man had no power over my life, my relationship or my career, not if I didn’t let him. I had taken all his control away. I no longer idolized him, wanted to shadow him, or even hang out with him. His days of reigning over Calvin Malone were over.

“I gotcha, Marty, and I’ll watch my back,” I said. “I’ve decided to just stay away from him.”

Here was a long pause, then, “I’m not sure that’s the best plan.”

Now I was really confused, and honestly, a little exhausted listening to this. If he was so horrible, and he could destroy me with the blink of an eye or some magic voodoo shit, then why would it be better to hang around the man?
I was done listening.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” he concluded before releasing me from the conversation from hell.

The house was so large, so empty that it made my heart ache just to stand in it. I walked upstairs and stared at the bed where I’d had my first threesome.
It has to go!
I wanted something new, something untainted for when Whitney arrived. I didn’t want her lying in the same spot where I’d been such a dick. I picked a pair of pink panties up from the floor, then noticed three used condoms in the trash can by my bed. Shit. In my party mode, I’d left a trail of my sins all over the place.

I called a cleaning service, then my favorite furniture store, both with orders to be fulfilled by morning. Ralph from the furniture store was actually quite gracious, offering to pick up the old bed and deliver the new one within an hour. He was probably charging me triple what he would any other Joe off the street, but that was fine, money well spent.

I still couldn’t sleep, even after the new bed arrived and I put on the brand new sheets and duvet he sent with it. I wanted something to knock me out, a hard drink or possibly a ball bat to the head, but I’d promised Whitney I would stay on the straight and narrow. No alcohol for me.

It felt like hours had passed as I stared up at the ceiling, but when I checked the clock it had only been minutes. I walked out onto my private balcony and up the stairs to the rooftop terrace. I fell into one of the large white chairs with thick cushions and stared out at the city lights.

I wasn’t sure this was the place I wanted to raise a family. Things were so busy here, people so cold. I missed home suddenly, the first time since I arrived. Not just because of Whitney, but because of the people, the town and the feeling you’d get when you walked in your front door. That all seemed to be missing here, and I wasn’t sure having Whitney here could or ever would change that.

My deep thoughts obviously knocked my ass out as I opened my eyes and felt the pain in my joints from the uncomfortable chair. I felt like a crippled man as I tried to get to my feet.

As I was walking downstairs, the doorbell rang. A team of cleaning ladies were holding a vacuum and buckets filled with cleaning supplies as I opened the door. I showed them around the house and then let them get to work while I sat out by the pool staring at my phone.

It had been two days, almost three, and Whitney hadn’t called me back. I promised I would give her time to think about it, but I’d been hoping that only meant a few hours, a day tops.
How long was I supposed to wait?

I was glad the cleaning ladies were quick because I needed to pack for a road trip and be ready to leave for the airport in just a couple of hours. I paid them and looked around at the place — not much difference. It wasn’t like I actually used the place much. But, at least I knew there were no loose panties, used condoms, or sex toys anywhere in the house.

God, at least I hoped so.

***

A week had passed, and the suspense was killing me. Marty told me to hang on, but I was losing faith at this point. Maybe no news wasn’t always good news, maybe it meant she wasn’t coming back and just didn’t have the heart to tell me.

We were back home, and Rhett was talking to the coach after another victory. It was the first time I’d seen him around in a while, at least out on the field. I’d wondered if he’d been MIA to avoid me because he was having a big love affair with Whitney. She told me they were only working together, but I just didn’t know.

“Hey, Rhett,” I called out, running in his direction.

Coach Griffin looked nervous as I approached, probably afraid I was going to lose my temper and do something stupid. A week ago, sure, that was a good possibility, but not today, and not ever again.

“What can I do for you, Calvin?” Rhett asked. He smiled and slapped a hand on my back. Coach took the hint that their conversation was over and ducked into the clubhouse with the rest of the team. “You’ve been pretty damn impressive here lately,” he acknowledged.

“Thank you, sir,” I said and mentally cursed. I was acting like a school boy. “I just wanted to ask, I mean…” I took a deep breath. “Whitney told me she was doing some work for you.”

He flashed a perfect smile. “Yes, she’s doing a great job.”

“It’s just… well, is she here now?” I spit it out.

The smile faded, turned smug, at least it seemed that way to me. “Surely if you two were talking like you say, you’d know her whereabouts.”

“Yes, I mean we talked last week, about her coming back, but I haven’t heard from her yet,” I explained. “I just thought you could give me a heads up as to where she is.”

He looked a little agitated, and his hand slipped away from my back as we walked towards the dugout. “You know how I feel about giving out personal information,” he reminded me. “So maybe her not contacting you simply means she isn’t coming back.”

It felt almost like it pleased him to tell me that. His words felt like a dagger in my chest and yet he managed to squeeze enjoyment out of it,
but why?