Left for Alive

by Tom Hogan

  Alexis looked down the bench as the inning started. William sat next to Clark, each staring at the field intently. Paul stood in the far corner, surveying the field with a fierce look on his face, muttering to himself. The rest of the team was on its feet, shouting encouragement to Carlos.

  Carlos swung at the first pitch, hitting a slow chopper to third, beating the throw to first by an eyelash, causing the bench and Values bleachers to explode. Pete then flied deep to right, missing a game-winning home run by a few feet. With one out the batter was Paul.

  Paul timed the second pitch perfectly, scorching a line drive back up the middle. There was no time to react: the ball slammed into the pitcher’s knee and caromed crazily into short right field. By the time the first baseman had chased down the ball, Paul was on second, smiling triumphantly over at Carlos on third, while the umpire was calling time and running out to the pitcher’s mound and the fallen player.

  Josh, who had been in the on-deck circle for Paul’s at-bat, was halfway to the mound when time was called. The Gimp wheeled quickly out to the mound, calling to Sheila for the first-aid kit as he went. She hustled to his van, which was parked next to the bleachers, and came out with a blue plastic bag.

  “Just stay down,” Josh said to the pitcher, who was writhing in pain. He motioned to the approaching Sheila to toss him the blue ice. He cracked the bag to release the cold and gently moved the pitcher’s hands from his knee and placed the bag on the swelling area.

  The pitcher looked at him, pain-induced sweat pushing its way out of his skin, the beads prismed by the ballpark lights. “Helluva shot. Never saw it.” He looked around. “Anyone catch it?”

  Josh shook his head. “Went for a double. We’ve got guys on second and third.”

  “Is it broken?”

  “I don’t think so. You caught it on the side of the knee.” He looked over at the umpire, who was hovering to the side. “Let’s get him over to the dugout.”

  The umpire looked out at the field. “Look, I hate to be an asshole about this, but since this is the playoffs…you need to complete the game with a full team. We can move you to the outfield, but someone else needs to come in and take your place. Who’s your captain?”

  The pitcher smiled weakly. “Me. And I’m the only pitcher we’ve got.” He looked at Josh. “Help me up and let’s test this out. If it’s not broken, there’s only two outs left. Who’s up next for you guys, anyway?”

  It was Josh’s turn to grin. “Me.”

  They delayed the game for ten minutes as the Santa Rosa pitcher tested his knee. Clark went into the back of The Gimp’s van and came back with a makeshift brace that he had constructed from some leather straps and bungee cords.

  During the break, The Gimp called the team together. “Carlos, you’re the tying run. Make sure the ball goes through before you try to score. Paul, don’t take any chances out there. Even if we just tie this thing, no way they can go extra innings, not with that guy’s knee the way it is. They’ll have to forfeit.

  “Now, Josh…” The Gimp saw Josh staring past him, out to the mound. “Worry about him after the game, Josh. Listen: this guy’s either going to be wild fast or slowing down to make sure he’s around the plate. If he’s wild, let him walk you and leave it up to Clark. If he’s slow, let’s end it now.” Josh nodded absently and headed out to the plate.

  The pitcher nodded that he was ready and Josh stepped into the batter’s box. The first pitch came in with the same heat as before but straight at Josh’s head. Josh instinctively let his knees collapse and jerked his head back. The ball flew past his forehead and struck the backstop with such force that it returned to the catcher on one bounce, causing Carlos to hold at third.

  “Sorry,” the pitcher mouthed at Josh, and nodded at his knee. Josh nodded back and stepped back into the box, his spikes settling. He pumped his bat twice.

  The next pitch came in a little slower, veering to the outer corner, waist-high. Josh flexed his back knee and whipped the bat. The ball came off the bat in a blur, missing the pitcher’s head by a foot and heading towards centerfield. Carlos would score easily, with Paul right behind him. Game over.

  Except that the shortstop had moved over to protect his pitcher, who couldn’t field his position any longer. He coiled and leapt, extending his glove as high as he could reach. The ball slammed into the leathered palm. He rolled over once, looked into the glove to make sure the ball was there, and stepped on second base, doubling off Paul and ending the game.

  Drinks were on the house for both teams, so the Santa Rosan team adjourned to The Gimp’s before they headed down to Kinsella for the night. The teams kept to themselves for the first two pitchers, but by eleven The Gimp was into his third keg, Lucky was up over three hundred dollars, and the lines of segregation had collapsed.

  As the night pushed past midnight and the party collapsed into smaller groups, Alexis and William found themselves at a small table on the edge of the action. William breathed in. “The aroma of sweat tinged with testosterone. This is what you stayed an extra two days for?”

  She smiled into her wine. “I enjoyed it. Surprisingly.” She motioned over at a large table, where Josh sat with the Santa Rosa pitcher and opposing shortstop. “Look at that. That’s more than I’ve seen him talk in the entire five days I’ve been here.”

  “It’s a time-honored masculine art. You exaggerate how good your opponent’s play was, then bow your head humbly as they return the favor. You’ll notice that I’m not engaging in it.”

  “Because you’re above all that?”

  “Because I didn’t get any hits tonight. If I had, you’d be sitting here alone.”

  She shifted her gaze to the bar, where Paul was holding court. After a sullen post-game ride to the bar, he had slowly warmed to the evening. Then one of the Santa Rosa women recognized him and the evening shifted gears.

  William followed her gaze. “Watching the master at work?”

  “Just trying to figure out which one he’s going to leave with.”

  William watched for a minute, then two. “The redhead.”

  “You think? I’d have said the blonde.”

  “Which one? The natural or the bottle job?”

  “Meow, William,” she said. “The natural.”

  He shook his head. “The redhead.”

  Alexis watched for a few more minutes, then took out a five-dollar bill and slapped it on the table. William covered it with one of his own. They turned back to the bar.

  It was clear that Paul was asking each woman about herself, then following up with more questions. But it was also clear that as the conversation advanced, the dyed blonde was being left out of the conversation. After a few more minutes she drifted down to the other end of the bar, where The Gimp poured her a beer and chatted her up.

  The other two women were contrasts in style. The redhead smoked as she talked and took her time answering Paul’s questions. The blonde had a girlish enthusiasm, laughing quickly, her eyes holding Paul’s face as they talked.

  “Still like the redhead?” Alexis said in a low voice.

  “More than ever.”

  She took out another five; William reached for his wallet.

  Fifteen minutes later, Paul exited with the redhead and William pocketed the twenty dollars. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

  “Noon.”

  “Donna taking you?”

  “Uh-huh. You coming along?”

  “I think she’ll want you to herself. Plus, I know you’ll want to talk about me.”

  She smiled. “Sit next to me, Will.” William did as told. She lowered her head onto his shoulder. “It’s been nice meeting you, Will. You guys have something special here. The camp, the bar, the mountain…it’s nice.”

  William let the silence settle, joining her in surveying the remains of the party. Then he inclined his head ag
ainst hers. “Then why not stay?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. “Well, for one thing, I haven’t been asked.”

  “And if you were?”

  “I don’t know. Great as this all is, it isn’t my home.”

  “And Chicago is?”

  “Fair point. Okay, so Chicago’s not the center of my universe. The best thing about it is I know all the short cuts when traffic gets bad. But moving out here involves…complications.”

  “Would one of those be my pal Josh?”

  She looked up at him. “Christ, when did I get so transparent?”

  “Hey, I’m the guy who picked the redhead, remember?”

  She chucked him on the shoulder. “Well, then, if you’re so good, what are my chances?”

  He looked over at where Josh was sitting with the two Santa Rosa players. “Not very good.” He put her head back on his shoulder. “But anyone else, I’d have said no chance at all.”

  It was after two. The Gimp had gotten lucky with one of the Santa Rosa fans, so Josh and Alexis had stayed behind to help with clean-up. They moved among the tables, re-arranging the chairs, emptying the brimming ashtrays. Alexis swept the floor into Josh’s waiting dustpan; the mopping, they agreed, would be left to the post-coital Gimp.

  William had told them he would stick around to help, but had then exited with Donna, saying that he wasn’t feeling well.

  “Subtle, isn’t he?” Alexis said after the departing car.

  “Donna wasn’t any better. She told me not to come home until you and talked.” He wiped down the bar. “They think you want to move up here. And if so, they want me to let you know that you’re welcome.”

  “And would I be? Welcome?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t you?”

  “Josh, why do you think Will and Donna wanted you to talk to me?”

  “Because I started the camp. But after all these years, it’s not like…” He stopped wiping. “I’m missing something here, aren’t I?”

  Alexis motioned at the tap. “Pour us a couple of beers.” When the beers were in front of them, she took a breath, letting it out with a low sigh. “What if I did want to move out here? Would that be okay?”

  “Again, why wouldn’t it be?”

  “What if you were one of the reasons I was moving out here?”

  He started wiping the bar again, his eyes focused on the rag. “Paul made some comment about you and me the other day, but I just thought he was licking his wounds. I didn’t give it another thought.”

  “Well, think about it now.”

  He did. “You asked me in Chicago if I dated anyone, and I said no. And I never have. Why isn’t important. But you’re moving out here won’t change that, whether I like you or not. And I do like you. We all do.”

  He swallowed drily. “If that’s good enough for you, I hope you move here. I mean that. If it isn’t, you should stay in Chicago. And I mean that, too.”

  CHAPTER 28

  The entire camp got up early to see Alexis off the next morning. Clark fixed pancakes, his specialty. Harry sat on Alexis’s lap for the entire breakfast, getting off only when Donna pulled up with the VW van. She gave everyone a hug, including Josh, who surprised her by hugging her back.

  “Tell Paul I said goodbye,” she said to William. “And congratulate him on the redhead.”

  An hour after the van rolled down the driveway, the phone rang in the L. William answered, listened for a moment, then identified himself, spelling his last name. He listened for another minute, then cupped his hand over the receiver. “Go get Josh.” The tone got Lucky off the couch and out the door.

  Two minutes later, Josh walked quickly into the L, Lucky at his heels. He took the phone, identified himself and listened with a stone face. “On what basis?…. Okay, can I talk to him?… Fine, then. What’s the bail?” His grasp on the phone loosened. “Okay, I’ll be down in half an hour. Listen, I’m going to ask a favor. Tell Lieutenant Cavanaugh I’d consider it a personal favor if you wouldn’t put him in any kind of cell. At least until I get there. Right…thanks.”

  “What’s the charge?” William asked as Josh settled the phone in the receiver.

  “Charges. They’re still preparing them. Sounds like Paul wasn’t that cooperative. Wouldn’t even confirm his identity or his version of events. Wouldn’t use his one phone call. Until they started to put him in a cell. Then he panicked and gave them this number.” He put on the jacket that hung on a peg near the door. “Luckily the last name clicked with one of the detectives. Otherwise they’d be sweating him by now.”

  “Questioning him about what?” William asked again.

  “Assault at least. Maybe sexual assault, depending on what they hear back from the hospital.” He headed out the door. “They said that he won’t talk except to say that this is another Phoenix, over and over.”

  He stopped at The Gimp’s on the way down, letting himself in with his key. Moving quietly, he opened the safe and counted out a thousand dollars. Overhead he heard the slide of The Gimp’s wheels, then the electric seat gliding down from the second floor. The Gimp, looking the worse for wear, started to say something, but froze when Josh looked up.

  “I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” and he was gone.

  The sergeant on duty looked up and nodded. “He’s in five. With Cavanaugh.” Josh nodded and strode quickly down the hall, stopping in front of a dented hospital-green door. A man, fortyish in a rumpled sports coat and slacks, stepped into the hall. They shook hands, then Josh cupped his hand over his eyes and looked through the heavily wired window.

  “How does it play, Wayne?”

  “It’s still playing itself out. Shit, Josh, we might have kicked the whole thing as drunk and disorderly on both parts if he’d just cooperated. But the woman was so loud, so angry it drew a crowd. And your brother wasn’t offering any defense. He was pretty upset from what I gather, and the guys who brought him in were gentler than they needed to be with him. The booking officer recognized the last name and gave me a call.”

  “I appreciate your coming down like this.”

  “Call us even for the Tyrell Jordan thing.”

  As Josh nodded, Cavanaugh continued. “On the one side, she’s inconsistent as hell. At first she’s saying it was a good time gone sour, the next he was all over her from the start. She’s even talking kidnap. On the other side are the bruises. And they count for a lot these days, as you know.”

  “Is she still at the hospital?”

  Cavanaugh looked at his watch. “Even on a busy day, she’s gone by now. If your brother hadn’t sphinxed us, we might be working from a different calendar, a different set of circumstances.”

  “Call the hospital. If she hasn’t already checked out, have them do a blood sample. If she’s that erratic with her testimony, maybe it’s something other than trauma.”

  “I’ll do it right now.” He nodded at the door. “Go on in, see if you can make more sense of this than I can.”

  Paul stayed in the hallway for a couple of minutes after Cavanaugh left, leaning against the pale, unevenly textured wall. He stared at the empty benches and the cork board filled with notices, police and personal. Then he opened the door.

  Still in his softball uniform, Paul sat at a bare table in the middle of the room, his hands shielding his face. Two empty chairs, one with an ashtray full of butts on its arm, sat across from him. He spread his fingers then put down his hands when he saw Josh.

  Josh’s eyes moved across Paul’s face, boring in. Paul endured the scrutiny, then looked past Josh at the wall.

  “What have you told them so far?”

  Paul kept his eyes on the wall. “Nothing. The truth…” He was silent. Then, “Nothing.”

  Josh reached his hand up into his brother’s line of vision and snapped his fingers. “Listen to me now. I don’t know if you’re in sho
ck or just disgusted with yourself, and I don’t really care. We don’t have time for either one.” The words and tone brought Paul’s eyes back to Josh’s. “Just tell me what happened.”

  Paul rubbed at his eyes, his fingertips staying on his cheeks. “We left The Gimp’s a little before midnight. She had her own room where the team was staying.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Sandy something. Anyway, we got to the motel around twelve-thirty, maybe a little later. We got down to what we’d come for and had a good time. It was a one-nighter—on both sides—so we enjoyed it for what it was.”

  He breathed in and looked at Josh over his fingertips. “We both nodded off, I guess. Anyway, around dawn she wakes up and wants to go again. Which was fine with me. Except this time she asks me if I’d be interested in something a bit different. How about if she tied me up?” He waited for Josh to say something, but Josh just rolled his wrist.

  “So she brings out these scarves.” He held up his hands, showing his wrists. “See the chafing…” He stopped. “Should we show this to the police?”

  “Depends on where the story goes. So she tied you up?”

  “The bed had a headboard with two posts. So she tied my wrists and then hooked the scarves around the posts. Then she does a couple of poppers and climbs on top of me and…”

  “Poppers? Amyl nitrates?” When Paul nodded, Josh eyes bored in. “Did you do any?”

  “A whiff at best. She held one under my nose and broke the capsule, but I turned my head.”

  “Okay. So what happened next?”

  “Not much at first. The sex was okay, nothing great. But you wouldn’t know that by listening to her. She’s talking all this rubbish about having the Michelob Man between her legs. How I’m all hers to do what she wants with. Then she starts pinching my nipples and slapping my face. Not hitting, but the slaps were hard enough that I lost the mood real quick.”

  “And…?”

  “When she felt me going soft, she lost it. Asked didn’t the famous model find her attractive anymore. Getting angrier and angrier. Next thing I know, she’s reached over to the bedside table and grabbed her lighter. She flicks it and holds the flame over my chest, just shy of catching my hair on fire.”