Sweet Spot: Homeruns #4 (2 page)

“Spring fling?” he parroted. He leaned against the side of his car and scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I was the idiot thinking what we have could possibly be anything more.”

“Cody, I never said that.” The last fucking thing I wanted was him shifting blame to himself. This was all me. “You’re a great guy. If our circumstances were different, you’d be everything I’d want in a partner. But it doesn’t do a damn bit of good to think about the what-ifs, because this is the life we have. I’m a baseball player and you’re getting ready to head off to college in the fall. I have no clue what’s going to happen from one day to the next. All I know is if I want to be anywhere come April, I have to get rid of every distraction.”

“And I distract you?” Cody challenged. “The way I remember it, every night I’d offer to run you back to the hotel after a couple of hours, but you always wanted to stay longer. What about when you told me the best part of your day was lying in my bed with me and forgetting about what other people expect of you? Were those lies to get me to bend over for you?”

I took a step closer to him and he lashed out at me. His fists thumped hard enough against my torso I’d have bruises in the morning. I stood stock-still as he pummeled my chest. I had all of it coming to me. When his rage faltered, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my forehead to his. “It was never like that, Cody. I don’t know much of anything at this point, but the one thing I do know is the nights I had with you will always be some of the best nights of my life. But I have to do what’s right for me. I’ve worked too hard to get here. I can’t give up now.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Cody responded so softly I almost missed it as a car raced past us. “If what we had meant anything to you, it wouldn’t be so easy for you to walk away.”

I huffed in disbelief. How could he possibly think this was easy for me? I was dying inside. “You’re going to believe whatever you want, so there’s no point in arguing.”

Releasing Cody, I walked away. Once I’d gone far enough he wouldn’t see the tears streaming down my face, I turned back to him. “Thank you, Cody. Maybe someday you’ll believe me when I say how grateful I am that we had even one day together.”

As I walked down the block, I listened for the sound of Cody’s car racing away from me, but the night had grown uncomfortably silent. If I was a good man, I’d turn around to make sure the piece of shit car hadn’t died in the parking lot. I wasn’t a good man. By the time I reached the hotel, I wished I’d told him I loved him. Maybe it was for the best I hadn’t, since I doubted he’d believe me.

E
ven though I
’d been raised around baseball, I’d never fully appreciated how hard it’d be to make it to the Bigs. Four years after my first spring training, I was beginning to lose hope that my name would be called and invited to the other side of the training complex. Back then, I’d been terrified I was receiving preferential treatment because my dad was the Mavericks’ GM. Now, I wondered if I was being held back for the same reason.

Jimmy, one of the equipment managers, greeted me at baggage claim. I liked Jimmy. He wouldn’t give me a hard time about my foul mood today. He’d been around long enough to know that baseball went from a starry-eyed dream to just another job when players didn’t see the forward motion they needed to feel like they’d eventually get out of the minors.

“Hey Nick, it’s good to see you again,” he greeted me as he helped me wrestle my bags off the carousel. “You think this is the year they’ll call you up?”

“You know it,” I lied. I
hoped
I’d hear my name called to head over and work out with the Mavericks, but I wasn’t holding my breath. I’d learned numbers weren’t the only consideration, and I had no way of knowing what they were looking for that I was missing.

“That’s the right attitude,” he praised me. Jimmy was all about all this new-age shit and would tell every player who threw a tantrum in the locker room that they had to change their thinking if they wanted to get called up. I wasn’t so sure about the whole positive affirmations thing, but I was at the point where I had nothing to lose. The more time a player spends stuck in the minors, the harder it is to make it to the majors. That’s another one of those unspoken rules about baseball. “As soon as your new roomie gets off the plane and graces us with his presence, we’ll be on our way. His flight should be landing about now.”

Jimmy closed his eyes and started going through some weird breathing exercises. For someone who was usually the most laid-back guy in the organization, he seemed awfully tense. Although I was happy Clint had gotten called up last year and was free from the requirement that he stay in team housing, I was also pissed because his absence meant we wouldn’t be sharing a room this year. He’d been a good roommate the past four years and I wasn’t looking forward to having to break in someone new. Especially if whoever I’d be stuck living with for the next six weeks had this effect on Jimmy.

“I don’t know why that man needs to be such a diva,” Jimmy muttered to himself. “You’d think he’d wait until the last minute to come down here, but no, he’s got to get here as soon as possible. Probably to make everyone as miserable as he is. Or try to prove he’s finally going to treat this like a job.”

“Uh, is there something you need to tell me?” I asked. “Maybe a bit of a heads-up would be good, because you never get this wound up.”

Jimmy ran his hand over the band of leather on his wrist. He did that a lot. Between his nervous tic and lack of eye contact, I braced myself for bad news. “I take it your dad didn’t talk to you?”

“No,” I said flatly. “Dad and I decided long ago that we wouldn’t talk about the team at home. It’s better if we keep everything separate, because no one else gets to talk to the GM over Mom’s pot roast and dinner rolls.”

“That makes sense,” Jimmy responded after pondering my words for a moment. “Still, I’d have thought he’d have told you about this. He wasn’t happy about it, but he didn’t step in and demand a change in room assignments.”

Good. I didn’t want any special treatment. “Jimmy, either get back to your happy place or spit out what you’re trying to avoid telling me. Seriously, how bad can it be?”

Jimmy let out a nervous, uncharacteristically squeaky laugh. “Boy, have you learned nothing in your time here?
Never
ask how bad it could be, because you just might find out.”

I was about to demand he get it over with and tell me who we were waiting on when a commotion broke out at the other end of baggage claim. “Hey asshole, why don’t you keep your filthy hands off shit that doesn’t belong to you?”

“That’s my bag,” someone else shouted. I tried to ignore the drama, but it was like an episode of
Jerry Springer
. A group quickly formed around the two men.

“Guys, how about you look at the tag and see whose name is on it?” someone yelled out from the back of the mass of onlookers.

“Aww hell, let’s go before he gets himself arrested,” Jimmy muttered. He took off and I followed, impressed by how quick he was on his stumpy little legs. And no, that wasn’t an insult, because Jimmy regularly told people to slow the hell down because his legs could only move him around so fast.

“Maybe this’d be a good time to finish your story,” I suggested, a bit winded after damn near sprinting through the airport pulling all the gear that wasn’t strapped to my back.

“Mark!” Jimmy hollered when he got to the edge of the onlookers who were trying to keep the men from fighting.
Wait, did he say Mark? Fuck. This was about as bad as it got.
Jimmy shoved his way through the crowd and pulled the bag out of the grip of a man I didn’t recognize. I swear, I almost dropped to my knees so I could pray there was a third person Jimmy was waiting to pick up.

“Jimmy, thank God you’re here,” Mark-fucking-Butler crooned. “Tell this asshole to let go of my fucking bag before I pound his scrawny ass into the ground.”

Jimmy studied the airline tag on the bag and handed it to the stranger. “I’m sorry, sir. He gets a bit excitable sometimes.” Excitable was one way to put it. Another would’ve been to admit he was a loudmouth asshole nobody could stand to be around, but that wasn’t Jimmy’s style. “I’m sure it was a simple mistake. Mark, let’s go see if we can find your bag.”

I pulled my bags over to the wall next to the restrooms. The crowd dispersed and Jimmy stuck next to Mark so he couldn’t make yet another scene. While I waited, I debated whipping out my phone and calling Dad to find out why he hadn’t told me. Suddenly, having him jump in and demand changes on my behalf didn’t seem like such a bad thing. We’d all thought the Mavericks had gotten rid of Mark for good when his agent tried forcing the club to trade him following a one-year suspension for violations of the morality clause. Butler was pissed as hell that, in addition to mandatory weekly drug tests, the team had sent him down to the Triple-A squad as a contingency for his return when no one else wanted him. And now, I was going to be trapped in the same room as him every fucking night. I swear, it was like the team went out of their way to see how much bullshit they could toss my way before I ran to my dad for help. Well, fuck that.

I fell in line behind Jimmy and Mark as we headed out to the team van. Mark glared at me, but didn’t say a word. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to believe the year off had done Mark some good and he wasn’t blowing smoke when he claimed to be a changed man. Mark shattered that illusion as soon as we were on the freeway. “Jimmy, I’ll give you the address for where I’m staying so you can drop me off.”

“You know the rules, Butler,” Jimmy retorted. He might be small, but Jimmy was still a force. Not once had I seen him actually lose his temper with anyone. His calm demeanor sometimes bordered on creepy until you got to know him. “This year, you’re staying at the hotel. I’m assuming your agent sent you the code of conduct for spring training?”

“Yeah, fuck that. I’m not some snot-nosed little punk who needs a goddamn babysitter. You can take me to the hotel if you want, but that don’t mean I’ll be sleeping there,” Mark hissed. He turned and narrowed his eyes at me before finishing his thought. “And whoever decided I was going to room with Pebbles is delusional. I don’t need a fucking babysitter. I can’t believe that fucking putz agreed to be Daddy’s little mole.”

“You know what, Mark? Fuck you!” If it wouldn’t have caused an accident, I would’ve lunged at him and strangled the fucker with his own seat belt. “You’re not the only one pissed about this little fucking arrangement. And fuck you very much for thinking I’m here to be some sort of snitch. I’ve got my own shit to worry about.”

“Boys, that’s enough,” Jimmy said in his creepy-calm voice. He reminded me of my mother when he used that tone. She rarely yelled at us kids, but when her voice got so quiet we could barely hear her, it was time to run. “I don’t know what they were thinking putting the two of you in the same room, but there had to be a reason for it. So, it’s in your best interest to figure out a way to get along for the next six weeks. And Mark, you also need to remember they’re going to be watching you this year. They need to know you’re not going to cause any more trouble for the team.”

“Fuck that noise! I’m not a fucking kid, Jimmy.” He slammed his hand down on the dashboard to emphasize his point. I debated pointing out that if he wasn’t a child, he should drop the temper tantrums, but thought better of it. Mark was a powder keg waiting for someone to light a match and toss it his way.

“Then I suggest you stop acting like one, Mark,” Jimmy advised him. “Your biggest enemy is your attitude. You’d be a good player if you weren’t trying to prove you have the biggest balls on the team all the time. You’re part of a
team.
If you weren’t up for the challenge of being part of something bigger than yourself, perhaps you should have gone into a different sport.”

Jimmy pulled up in front of the hotel and flagged down one of the bellmen to load our gear. He then led us to the front desk so we could check in. As he handed us the keys, he reminded me he’d be out front tomorrow morning at eight o’clock to pick up all the pitchers and catchers and ferry us to the training complex.

“Thanks, Jimmy, but I’ll probably hike it over there,” I told him so he wouldn’t be pissed off when he didn’t see me waiting with the others. Testing day was a bitch and I wanted to get there early so I wouldn’t have to spend the bulk of the day standing in lines. Not to mention, we couldn’t eat until they’d done the damn blood tests, and I’d be a dick until I had food in my system.

“Fucking ass-kisser,” Mark sneered. He stomped toward the elevators and mashed on the button as if that’d make the doors open quicker. “This is such a bunch of fucking bullshit.”

This sucked.

M
ark was still snoring
the next morning when I got up and in the shower. Since he wasn’t even required to be here for another four days, he’d thought it was a good idea to go clubbing last night. While I’d appreciated having the room to myself, he had zero respect for anyone else, as evidenced by the way he stumbled into the room at three in the fucking morning. I thought about reminding him some of us had to work this morning, but he didn’t give a shit about anyone other than himself so there was no point. Hopefully he’d change his tune once he was bound by the team curfew, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

When my alarm went off at six in the morning, I returned the favor. Instead of gently placing my suitcase on the bed, I tossed it unceremoniously onto the desk. Mark groaned and I laughed. Because the drapes were drawn to keep the morning sun out of the room, I turned on the overhead lights rather than try to find my clothes in the dark.

“Goddammit, Pebbles! Some of us are trying to sleep,” Mark groaned before pulling a pillow over his head.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said sweetly. “Silly me, I didn’t realize that being respectful of those around us was something you understood. I’ll try to be better.”

“Fuck off.” The words were muffled by the pillow, but I still understood what he said. Figuring it was best to not push my luck the first morning of way too many, I turned out the light and took my pile of clothes into the bathroom. I even waited until the door was closed to turn on the light, because I was such a nice guy.

As soon as I got out of the shower, dressed, and had my cross-trainers laced, I snuck out of the room. With any luck, I’d be there waiting when the park opened, ready to show everyone who mattered that I was taking my job seriously. Plus, getting through the tests meant I’d be free to raid what passed as our breakfast buffet before we were left with nothing but pastries and other sugar-filled crap we’d get cussed out for eating when we were supposed to be staying in shape.

“Every team’s got that one guy,” Devin Davies teased, strolling in as I stood after giving blood. I didn’t want to be rude, but I seriously needed some damn food. “Did you spend the night so you could be the brown-noser?”

“Piss off,” I responded playfully. Devin wasn’t being an asshole. He and I had become good friends last year when we’d been road roommates. I missed the easy banter we shared and wished whoever’d set rooming assignments for spring training had put us together again. “I had to get here at the asscrack of dawn if I had any chance of beating you in here. Plus, my roommate’s a fucking douche. Maybe I should’ve stayed here, then I’d have gotten more than a few hours of sleep.”

My determination to not piss and moan about being stuck with Butler hadn’t even lasted twenty minutes. As I kicked myself in the ass for complaining about something I couldn’t change, I reminded myself this was Devin. He’d listen to me bitch about more random shit than anyone else in the organization, and he had no problem telling me when it was time to shut up and deal.