Brigham: You been thinking about our kiss a lot?
BB: Almost every other minute.
BB: I’m not good at playing it cool or trying to flirt. Ethan says I’m shit at it, so how about we talk in ten days. Bye!
Brigham: Nice try, BB. I’m bored. Give me an update on the dogs.
And nothing. No three little dots popping up and no message coming in. She wasn’t one to play games and I worried that she would actually not respond for ten days.Fuck.I couldn’t wait that long to talk to her. She was like a breath of fresh air and I was selfish and wanted more of her time. It took some restraint, but I didn’t text her again and focused on our upcoming game. We were up two games in the division and while one loss here and there wouldn’t matter, every game felt like a try-out for me.
A way to get my contract extended, or become a free agent.
We arrived at the opposing teams’ clubhouse and went through our pre-game routine. Some guys were superstitious and never washed their socks if they had a good game. I didn’t believe in that shit. We had good days and bad, and the beautiful thing about baseball was that it could really all come down to one pitch.
“Welcome back, bro.”
I looked up and found Samson Thomas standing next to my temporary locker with his hands on his hips and a sneer on his face. I couldn’t call him a friendly rival, because the dude had been pretty happy when I’d been forced to sit out fifteen games, but I didn’t hate the guy. He was hungry for success and I was in his way. “Thanks, Samson.”
“Looks like you’re starting today.”
“Yeah. Perks of hitting right side.”
He scowled and hit my locker. “Mess up once, Brigs, I’m right there behind you.”
“I know. Competition makes me play better, though, so keep being an ass. It’ll help my average.”
He flipped me the bird and made me chuckle. I missed this shit. The pre-game nerves, the smell of Gatorade, sweat, old leather and chewing tobacco. I wasn’t lying to him, though. The fact that he wanted my starting spot so damn bad fueled my fire and I got dressed, warmed up and stretched with the goal of kicking ass.
And I did.
* * * *
It was a quick game and we won by two runs, courtesy of my two-run homerun, and it felt fucking good. Gideon clapped my back while Brigham and Tate—the clubhouse guy who had been around for years—gave me a knowing look. It was common that the guy with the winning hit would get dibs on the bus to the hotel. It was stupid but consistent, and I would relish that opportunity.
“Kicked ass, man. Take another fifteen days off, huh?” Gideon said, tossing a towel at me. “It’s nice having you back.”
“It’s like I have oxygen in my lungs again.”
Brigham and Tate nodded, like they understood. And they probably did. The game was a religion to us. I showered, dressed in post-game wear and went to the press room where I was expected to talk. Coach’s expression tightened as I met him outside the small room, and it would have been foolish to not be nervous. The press would ask about the arrest, the drugs, all of it. I had to answer in a calm voice, not lose my temper and deflect. That was my plan.
“You’ll be fine. You’ve been in the game long enough,” Coach said, pushing the door open and motioning me to go first. Microphones lined the small table and only about ten reporters were in the room. They looked excited and my mind spiraled.
Will Brigham Monaghan fuck it up? Will the party playboy give us a quote we can take out of context? Does he have drugs now?
I shook my head, cleared my mind and prepared for them like it was an at-bat. “Good to see everyone again,” I said into the microphone, smiling and meeting their eyes. “It’s been a bit.”
“Brigham, Jayce fromSportsMania. Tell me, how does the arrest affect your playing?”
I shrugged and tried to look humble. “Let’s look at the box score and revisit this.”
Everyone chuckled lightly, and I relaxed for a bit. Someone else popped the next question, and after about five minutes of commentary on the game and my triumphant return, a short dude with hairy arms raised his hand. I nodded at him to go. He had a gross face with acne and a sneer that didn’t sit well with me.
“How do you feel about the latest wave in the case?”
“The fact that a witness is retracting a false statement?”
“No.” He laughed and it sounded like a little mouse. “The latest headlines that you bribed the cops. Word is a tape was released and you’re on camera bribing an officer. That’s a felony, my man.”
Chapter Nine
