What I have taken from my experience with the bad guys in the media circuit, take all news with a grain of salt. I know the truth, Sawyer knows the truth and both organizations know the truth or a piece of it. And so we move on.
The bonus though, that I’ve taken from this experience is that I’m fucking engaged and I couldn’t be happier!
The days were counting down for the upcoming move; we were sitting in the final days of escrow. Sawyer’s official last day of work is anticipated for the end of this week, as she’s remotely began working for the Gila Monsters with her beginning pieces being the planted photos that we took on our twenty-four hour stint in Arizona. And she had a few more players lined up for interviews when we arrived.
Sawyer waited in the tunnel for me after the game as she normally does when we play at home. As I walk up to her, my hand found her cheek and I kissed her sweetly.
“See you at home?” I ask.
“Where else would I be?” She says with a laugh.
“Just making sure.” I whisper back to her pulling her face back to mine for a second kiss.
“Reynolds! Quit sucking face with the Chainsaw and get into the locker room! Team debrief in five! Just because you’ve got one foot out of the door, doesn’t mean your ass doesn’t partake in this anymore. Snap! Snap!” Our assistant coach shouts from the door to the hallways that lead down to the team locker room.
Sawyer shakes her head. “Snap. Snap,” she mimics as I pull away.
“Love you.”
“THE HORNETS and the Seals are tied for the wild card for the series. Now, as you guys know this is not a regular occurrence. We’re scheduled to play a single game which will add an extra game to our season, this game will determine who gets the card. This game will be taking place on Friday - so I suggest that you guys rest up on your two-day break. Reynolds, a word in my office?” The Skipper retreats as I follow him.
“Friday will be your final game with the Hornets in the regular season. I want you playing the entire game, do you understand me?” He says sternly.
“Yes sir, I will play my best.” I start to stand but he holds up his hand.
“I’m sorry that we couldn’t adjust your contract with the Hornets. You are a fantastic catcher, a great team player and a solid guy. Our organization will be sad to see you go, but incredibly proud of what you will do in the future, son.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Just remember where you got your start,” he smirks.
I nod and wait for him to continue, when he doesn’t, I stand to leave his office.
“Drinks?” Bellows asks, once I near our cages on the opposite side of the room.
“Yeah Gun, let’s hit up the watering hole and get smashed!” Masters chimes in.
A few of the other players congregate in the center row as I get my wallet out of the locker and pocket it. I look at the time then back to the guys awaiting my answer.
“Let me just text Sawyer and let her know.”
A few whip noises sounded and I turned my back to them shaking my head.
ME: Gonna hit up the bar with some of the guys, want to meet up?
THE THREE DOTS bounce on my screen as I await her response.
SAWYER: Go and hang with the guys, I’ll get you all to myself in AZ
ME: Love ya babe.
SAWYER: Ditto
“ALRIGHT GUYS. Let’s do this thing.” I say turning around to my expectant teammates.
We file out of the locker room, and to the parking lot.
“Gun, you can ride with me.” Masters says as he hooks his thumb over his shoulder towards his Jeep.
A row of shots and several beers later, I’m stumbling into my dark condo. A low light is on in the hallway and I do my best to navigate through my home to get to the bedroom in my drunken stupor. After playing bumper cars with the wall, I finally make it to the bedroom. I spy Sawyer is laying on top of the covers, in a t-shirt and panties fast asleep. Her long slender thigh has a glint of light from the nearby lights out or floor to ceiling bedroom window, her dark brown hair is fanned out against her pillow with her backside to me.
It takes everything in my drunken power to not lean down and bite her ass, as I remove my clothes and drop them on the floor beside our bed. Sawyer doesn’t stir from any of my movements, nor when I ungracefully fall into bed beside her. She makes a faint sound but remains peacefully asleep. I kiss her shoulder and form my body around hers. Seconds after my head hitting the pillow, sleep consumes me.
NINETEEN
SAWYER
THERE ARE a few simple pleasures in life that I take a guilty stake on. The first being cinnamon buns and the second is when Gunnar is hungover. They both have to do with one another, so maybe that’s why I enjoy them.
Gunnar doesn’t party too often and since he sleeps like the dead after a night of drinking, he sleeps in and will eat said cinnamon buns every time as his way of coping with the hangover. Normally, he’s eating a healthy and on balanced diet, but when he’s hungover, he will gorge out on all the good stuff.
So, when he texted me last night that he was going to go out with the guys after the game, I went to the closest grocery store and stocked up on all the hangover necessities. Granted, we’re going to be moving soon - and since Mr. Lyons and I spoke earlier this week, we decided that my official last day was yesterday, but I would still go into the office at the end of the week for a pre-planned going away party. So, I enjoyed sleeping in with Gunnar, even though I woke up before him.
The timer goes off on the stove as Gunnar shuffles out into the living room scratching his head and moaning at the same time. I grab a glass, add some water in it and hold it out to him.
He looks over to me and smiles while he takes the glass.
I pull out the cinnamon buns, place them on top of the stove, and then grab the icing.
“I see you’re taking advantage.” He says standing beside me. “Taking advantage of a man who feels like shit and forcing him to eat this delicious goodness, the nectar from the gods of cinnamon.”
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.” I shrug.
He kisses my cheek and then gets himself more water.
“You know, your ass looked magnificent last night, if I remember correctly.”
“And my ass doesn’t today?” I tease him looking at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Your ass is perfect. But last night, I almost took a bite.”
“A bite?” I mock surprise.
“It would have been a good bite too.” He nods his head and smiles as he takes a finger and runs it across one of the buns. I swat his hand away and point to the couch.
“Go sit. Get your dirty fingers out of the icing or you don’t get any.” I threaten him with the spatula.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he holds up his hands and fights off laughter.
“Don’t make me eat all these cinnamon buns in front of you. I know you want some.”
“You wouldn’t.” He laughs shaking his head and then holding his temples.
“You want to watch me? Never under estimate me when it comes to cinnamon buns… never Gunnar.” I shake a finger in his direction, trying to keep a straight face and not blow my cover with laughter.
“Cruel, cruel woman.” He says and does as I asks.
“Don’t for one minute think that I’m joking. I will eat each and every cinnamon bun and then lick the plate.”
“Such big words woman.”
I ended up sharing my cinnamon buns with Gunnar, he ate half and I ate half of them. We settled into snuggling on the couch watching the episode of The Walking Dead that we missed last week, when Gunnar’s head shot up.
“Why aren’t you at work? This is your last week, right?” He asks.
“Oh, I’m done at OPS, I just need to go in and get the rest of my stuff on Friday. They’re throwing a goodbye party for me, so I’ll go to that, clear out the rest of the office and say my final goodbyes. Rachael is fully brought up to spee
d and there was nothing left for me to do. So, I told Mr. Lyons that I didn’t want to waste his payroll with me just sitting there.”
“Does this mean that we can be lazy together all day long?” He asks with a hopeful voice.
“It does.” I nod.
“These moments are rare, we must treasure them.” He smiles lazily.
“You sound like a Hallmark card, are you still drunk?”
“I may be a little bit drunk, but for real - with all the shit that we even do in the off season - which feels like a fucking blink of an eye - we rarely lounge around. I vote full laziness for the next two days. I have a feeling that is what will help me in Friday night’s game.”
“So the rumors that I heard were true, you guys are tied for the wild card with San Francisco?” I pause the show and turn to him.
“Yeah, and the Skipper is hoping that I’ll play the whole game, I guess as my last hurrah for the Hornets.”
“Guess, I should make it down to the field, huh?” I wink.
“You know, if you want to and all,” Gunnar shrugs with a small smile.
We sit quietly for a moment and I look at him.
“You getting sad about the change?” I ask, lowering my voice affectionately.
“It’s just surreal. I started out here in San Diego, and it’s not like Arizona is far, but it’s different.”
“And hot as balls, don’t forget the hot as balls part.”
“Like a sweaty arm pit.”
“Molten lava.”
“Like a sauna.”
“At least air conditioning was invented, so that way I don’t melt like the wicked witch.”
“There’s not an inch of your soul that is wicked,” Gunnar leans over and nuzzles his nose against my hair.
“You know, Halloween is just around the corner.” I say as I produce my best wicked witch cackle.
Gunnar looks at me with a blank stare and shakes his head.
“Zombies. Let’s finish watching the zombies,” he points to the television.
One episode turns into a full on marathon of finding our favorite episodes over the past eight years of the show, and before we know it - we’ve wasted the day and the sun is beginning to set below the ball field out our window. I take advantage of the day and order a pizza for dinner with no debate from Gunnar aside from the toppings.
I pinch Gunnar’s non-existent stomach, trying to dig into the washboard of abs instead.
“Cinnamon rolls and pizza, I think you may need to go do some laps and full on cardio to make up for all this.”
“I’ll go for cardio, bedroom cardio please,” he smiles.
TWENTY
GUNNAR
THE BRIGHT LIGHTS of the stadium are blinding, with the neon flashing lights from some of the digital signage around the field. The fans are starting to take their seats just as some of the organizations promo girls are tossing balls back and forth with some of the outfielders.
I make sure my equipment is on right and motion to Bently to start when he’s ready. We throw a few practice throws to one another and then I motion for him to meet me halfway.
“You ready for this?” I ask him. His throws are off, wild even. His posture is too rigid and he looks like he’s about to throw up. He’s sweating already and we haven’t done anything.
“I ate some bad sushi last night. I went out with that chick, Sicily last night and I spent the latter half of our date in her bathroom. It was a horrible night.”
“Man, why didn’t you say anything to the Skipper?”
“You don’t call in sick on the tie-breaker game, man. You know that shit.” Bently pulls his cap off and wipes his brow.
“Go into the dugout. Yak your brains out and then get your ass back here. Drink some more Gatorade and shit. Put on the stone face and let’s get this shit done.” I direct.
“We’re gonna do this shit, right? This could be out last game together.”
“Go throw up and let’s stop acting like chicks. We’ve got a fucking game to win, and then we’ll do each other’s hair and paint each other’s toenails.”
“Fuck you Gun.”
“Love you too buttercup. Now go throw up.” I direct him, pushing his shoulder in the direction of the dugout.
I watch him disappear into the tunnel and then reemerge a few minutes later. He’s wiping his mouth and looking a little bit better.
“You gonna last?” I ask him.
“Let’s do this shit.”
“That’s my boy.”
The game starts in standard fashion with a few pop up balls and some strikeouts to get the innings rolled over. I’m stepping up to the plate in the top of the fourth, digging my cleats into the warning track as I flex my fingers and unstrap my gloves on each hand. I pick up the bat, twist the grip, tap the plate once, and get into position.
The ball flies past me, and I barely move an inch. Wicked fastball, but it’s not what I like to hit.
The next ball comes right at me, and I jump back to avoid contact and blow out a breath.
The next pitch is a curve ball, but I don’t notice it until the very last milli-second when the ball makes contact with my elbow until I am down on the ground in excruciating pain.
The roars of the fans, the shouts from the dugout as I clench my teeth and force in a breath.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
The sharp stabbing pain is going up from my elbow to my shoulder, to my neck and to my jaw. I drop the bat, fall to my knees and clutch my elbow, even that movement proving to be painful. Tears sting my eyes and I feel that my heart is pounding out of my chest.
I hear nothing, no fans chattering or shouting. I don’t hear anyone’s footsteps as they come to my side. I don’t hear any of the questions that the team doc is asking of me., but I see his lips moving and I blink a few times before I can hear the doc telling me to breathe.
His voice is faint and soon it is clear, along with the roar of the crowd.
‘“Reynolds, I need to examine your elbow. Son, please? Release your elbow?” He says carefully.
Slowly, I release the grip on my arm and inhale a shaky breath.
Just the touch of the doc’s gloved hand sends the sensation of razor blades along my skin.
“Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” I say through clenched teeth.
“Watch it Gun. Don’t do anything to get you fined.” Bently says in warning for using profanities.
“Fuck that man. I feel like I’m dying. This is the worse funny bone feeling a person can ever have. Holy shit!” I seethe through my teeth throwing my head back in sheer pain.
“I don’t want to take any chances; we need to get an X-ray. You’re out of the game Reynolds.” Doc says with finality to the Skipper.
I’m helped up carefully and the Doc lightly holds my elbow in his hands. Standing up, my stomach dips and I feel a little light headed. My knees attempt to give out, but Bently has a firm grasp around my waist and hoists me up, practically carrying me the rest of the way.
“It’s going to be alright man,” Bently says as he hands me off to another team doc who hurried up the steps of the dugout to grab me from Bently. I’m rushed into the locker room for a closer assessment of the injury and to the mobile X-Ray machine that’s set up in the trainer’s office.
The movement surrounding me is fast, the trainers and the docs move in tandem around me, silently as if it’s a dance to find out the outcome of this injury, and of my entire future.
TWENTY-ONE
SAWYER
IT HAPPENED SO FAST.
First, Gunnar was waiting for the perfect pitch and then the next second he was down on the ground. The stadium was silent, all I could hear was his screams, and the whooshing of my heart beat.
The trainers and team doctors took him off the field and then he disappeared into the dugout and then out of sight. The game continued on, the Hornets brought out Bellows, the fans continued to cheer for their respective team. Bellows played through the inning as I waited impatiently for any
sort of update on Gunnar while my knee bounced. I eventually left my seat with the other girlfriends and wives of the Hornets players and paced in the tunnel.
After what felt like forever, Bently appeared from the doorway and in silence, he craned his head to follow him. My being in this area was breaking the rules, but at this point, I didn’t give a shit, I don’t think that Bently does either right now. My man was injured and I needed to know what the hell was going on.
My cell kept pinging, but I ignored it as Bently led me through the hallway and into the small room that looked sterile and unwelcoming. Gunnar sat on the exam table, with his hand clutching to his wrist. His elbow was a dark blueish-black and swollen and he looked like he was heavily concentrated on his breathing. He didn’t notice me until I stood beside him.
“Hey babe.” I say quietly.
“Hey love. How’s the game going?” He asks with his eyes all glassy from the pain.
“I don’t know. I stopped paying attention and… oh man Gun… are you okay?” I lose my cool and rush out.
“My arm is kind of numb, I have a killer headache and I’m basically a sitting duck in here just waiting for the Doc to come back with the results of the X-ray.”
I open my mouth and before I can say anything else, the team doctor walks into the room with a solemn expression. He nods to me and with sympathetic eyes; he turns and places the X-rays to the light table.
I hear Bently sigh deeply and I squint my eyes to be able to see what he sees.
It’s then, that the doctor turns around with a frown on his face. “Your elbow Gunnar, it’s fractured,” he says with remorse.
“Shit.” Gunnar expels.
“This kind of injury, it can take up to eight weeks for a full recovery. The good news is that I don’t think you will need any sort of surgery, from looking at the X-Ray. You’ll have to be in a cast, but overall with some PT, you should be ready for next season in Arizona.”
Clutch Endgame Page 13
