by Sterling, J.
“Leave her alone,” I shouted in his direction, and he glared at me. He fucking glared at me, aimed the camera back toward Cass, and clicked the button. I imagined jumping over everyone and breaking that camera across the side of his fucking skull.
“You’re so pretty when you smile, Cassie. Won’t you smile for the camera? Who was with you at the game last night? Cassie? Did you and Jack make up? Why were you mad at him?” The dirtbag was relentless.
“I said leave her alone,” I threatened, my patience fading.
Cassie suddenly appeared at my side, whispering in my ear, “That guy’s creeping me out.”
“We’ll go,” I whispered back. “I have to go. Sorry.” I made my way through the crowd, which had grown in number since I started. I pushed lightly through the people, signing a few scraps of paper on the way, never letting go of Cassie’s hand.
We walked down the sidewalk and I glanced back, noticing the guy still taking shots of us, following our every move. “That guy’s following us. He must be paparazzi.”
“When he called out my name,” she paused, “that freaked me out. And all those questions. It’s weird when people know about your life like that.”
“I know. Come on, let’s get a cab.” I stopped walking and the guy did too.
That’s right, asshole. Keep your distance.
“I got this.” She winked at me before stepping out onto the edge of the busy street.
She looked sexy as hell hailing down a cab, her hip jutted out as she waved her arm. The cab pulled up like a speeding train before slamming on the brakes and we hopped in.
“Is he following us?” Cassie asked softly.
I glanced back. “Nope. I think he knows I’ll deck him,” I said with a laugh, and she kissed my cheek.
When the cabbie stopped in front of a gold-trimmed apartment building with a uniformed guy standing outside the revolving door, I smiled, my comfort level growing already.
This is what I’m talking about.
I helped Cass out of the cab, and we walked toward the door.
“Can I help you?” the doorman asked.
Good. He asks what you’re doing here before you go in. I like that.
“We have an appointment with Ruth.”
“Have a good day,” he nodded, allowing us to enter.
A middle-aged woman greeted us the moment we walked in. Her voice was so raspy it sounded as if she smoked twenty packs a day. “I’m Ruth. You must be Jack and Cassie. It’s nice to meet you. We happen to have a vacant two-bedroom apartment on the twenty-third floor that I want to show you. Are you ready?”
I turned to Cassie. “Twenty-third floor? It’s my number, babe. That’s a sign.”
Baseball players are nothing if not superstitious.
Cassie smiled, following Ruth into the elevator that flew us to the twenty-third floor in no time. Ruth led us down the hall, unlocked the door, and waved us in. “I’ll just be over here, so you kids take your time looking around.”
Holy shit.
This place was gorgeous. I knew Kitten was already sold by the look on her face. “Can we afford this?” she whispered.
“We can. Easily. It’s not as much as you think.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
I could see why. Cassie started on about granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances, and squealed when she walked into the master bathroom. I didn’t know half the shit she was talking about, but the smile on her face was priceless. I’d take out a fucking loan to live here if I had to.
“I think we can fit ten apartments the size of yours in here,” I teased, before walking onto the balcony. The city rushed by down below, and the buildings provided the perfect landscape. I bet Kitten would love to photograph things from up here.
“A balcony? Heaven. I’m in heaven.” Her face crinkled with delight.
“I wanna do bad things to you on this balcony, Kitten.”
“Shocking,” she said as she rolled her eyes.
“So you like it?” I asked, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her to me. Before she could answer, I pressed my lips against hers, feeling her body go limp in my arms. I pulled away from her slowly, letting the kiss linger before finishing it with a peck against her cheek.
“It’s seriously gorgeous, Jack. I think I could live here forever.”
“Even if it’s a little further from Central Park than you wanted?” I asked just to be sure, already knowing what her answer would be.
“It’s perfect. And the park isn’t that far away.”
“I’m sold then.”
“You didn’t even see the master bedroom. Or the guest room. Did you even look around?” She ran her fingers through my hair.
“I don’t need to. If you like it, that’s all that matters.” I stepped inside and shouted toward the open front door. “Ruth.” She peered around the door frame and smiled. “We’ll take it. What do we have to do?”
Getting Caught
Cassie
Jack talked Ruth into letting us move in as soon as possible, saying he wanted to know I’d be safe while he was on the road for eleven days. The move kept my brain occupied, so instead of focusing on the fact that Jack would be gone for so long, I thought about packing instead. It stopped me from my small freak-outs about Jack and cheating. I didn’t want to worry about him doing that, but sometimes you can’t help the way you feel.
We spent the following week packing up our small apartment, and I stayed away from the field when Jack wasn’t pitching to have more time to get everything in order. I realized that I didn’t like staying home when Jack’s team played a home game. I thought I’d feel differently because Jack wasn’t pitching, but I didn’t. I wanted to be where he was, whether he was playing or not.
But being away from the field also meant that there were no pictures of me online and that small reprieve brought a sense of normalcy back into my life I’d almost forgotten. It’s amazing how quickly we adapt to things in our lives when we believe we don’t have a choice in the matter.
I closed the top of a box, taping it shut as Jack walked through the front door. I smiled, jumping to my feet to greet him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and nuzzled against his warm skin. “Hi, babe. How was the game?”
“I don’t like it when you’re not there,” he admitted, and a part of me melted with his words.
“Me either.” I closed my eyes, breathing in the smell of him.
“And we lost.” His tone turned grumpy and annoyed.
“I’m sorry.”
He leaned down, giving me a quick peck on the mouth before walking into the kitchen. “I’m hungry, Kitten, and everything’s packed.” He opened and closed our cupboards.
“There’s pasta in the fridge that I made for dinner. Just needs to be heated up.”
He turned toward the refrigerator and opened the door. “Oh, here,” he said, reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a folded-up piece of paper and tossed it at me.
“What is it?”
“It’s the detailed travel itinerary for the next few games.”
“Oh.” I unfolded it. “Is this my copy or do I need to write this all down somewhere?”
“That’s all yours. I have mine in my locker.”
“Thanks.” I scanned the paper looking for his flight time. I breathed out with relief when it read six p.m. “I’m so happy that your flight isn’t until six.”
“I know. It’s only about two and half hours to Miami from here so we lucked out.” He flashed a quick dimpled grin before the microwave beeped, signaling his food was ready.
I nodded and scanned the bare living room. “I didn’t think it could look any smaller in here, but it actually does. Which really makes no sense.”
“Our new place is going to feel like a palace to you.”
“I may never leave our bathroom,” I teased and he raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about because you didn’t even look at it. Just wait until you s
ee it!”
I started getting really excited. Our new apartment looked amazing, and I couldn’t wait to begin living there. “Matteo knows we’re moving, right? You told him?”
He nodded before swallowing a mouthful of food. “I told him. He knows exactly where it is.”
I started going through the checklist in my head. Utilities changed over and turned on, old apartment cleaned, movers booked, house packed, and address updated online and with the post office. “Kitten?” Jack’s voice broke through my overly organized brain.
“Hmm?”
“Did you hear a word I said?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. What’d you say?”
“I asked if you thought about coming to any of the away games.”
“I was going to ask you if I could come to the Chicago series.” I plopped down on the couch.
“Ask me? Kitten, you can come to every fucking game if you want. You don’t have to ask me.”
“Well, I’ve never been to Chicago.” I smiled, picturing Cloud Gate, the famous stainless-steel bean-shaped sculpture that people always talked about. I wanted to photograph that bean.
The couch dipped as Jack sat next to me. “Alright, but listen. Chicago is a really big city that sometimes isn’t safe. Since you’ll be alone, I don’t think you should take the El around town. Just take cabs.”
“The L?” I asked.
“It’s Chicago’s train system, which I’m sure is fine but I’ll lose my shit thinking about you riding around on it alone.”
“I take the trains in New York alone all the time. It can’t be that different.”
“It’s probably not. But I’d feel better if you just took cabs.”
“OK. I’ll take cabs.” I agreed before feeling small nerves tingle up and down my spine. I needed to get used to traveling to strange places alone. Not only was it a part of dating Jack, but it was a part of my future career as well. My job assignments were almost always guaranteed to be in unfamiliar territory.
“I’m not kidding, Kitten. And as much as I want you there, now I’m freaking out at the idea of you being there alone.” His eyebrows pulled together.
“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with you.”
He shook his head. “Not really. I’ll be at the field most of the time. I don’t think there’s a day I’m even around for lunch. We’re gone before then.”
“That sucks.” I understood now why the wives didn’t go to the away games.
Jack’s shoulders squared as he faced me. “I know it’s a lot of alone time. You don’t have to come.”
“I want to. I should at least see what it’s like, right? Maybe I’ll like having time to explore,” I offered, unsure of whom I was trying to convince, me or him.
The tension on his face remained. “Maybe we should fly Matteo out so you aren’t alone?”
I jerked my head back in surprise. “No! We’re not bringing Matteo! Are you insane?”
“It was just a thought.”
“Well, stop thinking like that. I don’t want Matteo to go everywhere I go.” I imagined the field day the local press would have with that.
Jack reached over, grabbing my hand in his. “I worry about you is all.”
“I know, but at some point you need to let me be a big girl and take care of myself. I was perfectly fine here before you came, you know.” His expression fell, and I knew I’d hurt him. “That’s not how I meant it. I just meant that I didn’t need a babysitter before.”
“You weren’t being hounded by the press or fans before either.”
“That’s true,” I admitted, my stomach fluttering with the thought.
“I know you think I’m crazy, Kitten, but I can’t function if I’m worried about you.” He lowered his head, and a horrible feeling crept over me. I hated being the source of his pain.
“I don’t think you’re crazy, but I hate that I cause you so much stress.”
His dark eyes turned to my face. “You don’t cause me stress. I cause me stress because I can’t relax when it comes to you. Because I love you so damn much.”
I didn’t know how to respond. Jack made me fully aware that I was his number one priority in life, and I’d never experienced that feeling before. I stared at him, allowing my own feelings for him to circulate throughout every ounce of my body. Feeling heavy with my own emotions, I longed to lighten the mood.
“Does it matter what time I land on Friday?”
He brought my hand to his lips and kissed across my knuckles. “Even if you book a flight that gets in when I do, I’m not allowed to ride with you to the hotel. So don’t worry about trying to coordinate your flight with mine or anything.”
“Alright. I’ll just fly out after work then.”
“So you might miss the game?”
“I shouldn’t. We have summer Fridays in the office now so we get to leave early.”
“What the hell are summer Fridays?” he scoffed.
I smiled. “This whole freaking city goes to the Hamptons on the summer weekends. So everyone gets off early on Friday so they can drive up there.”
“Shut the hell up.”
I laughed. “I’m not kidding.”
“Could you imagine if we did that shit in LA? What would we have, Malibu Fridays?”
“Beach house Fridays!” I yelled.
Jack smiled and tilted his head. “You’re so adorable. I love you so much.”
His words pierced like an arrow into my lungs, causing me to catch my breath. “I love you too.”
“What time do the movers get here tomorrow?”
“Eight.” I looked around one last time. “I got everything, right?”
Jack turned his head in all directions, scanning our tiny living space. “Looks like it to me. You did good, Kitten.”
“Thanks.” My cheeks warmed with his compliment as his hand cupped my face.
“We should leave this place with a bang.”
“What do you have in mind?” I sucked at my lower lip.
“I think you know.” He pushed off from the couch before slipping his hands under me and lifting me up. “I think I have two quarters in my pocket.” His tongue swept across my lips as he carried me into our tiny bedroom one last time.
We moved into our new apartment the following morning, and Jack was on a flight that evening. But not before building our new bed frame, two sets of bookshelves, and a new dresser. He promised he’d put together everything so I wouldn’t have to.
I adored the man he was becoming for me.
For us.
Chicago Friday finally rolled around, and I landed at Midway airport around four. Jack’s game at Wrigley didn’t start until seven thirty, but he was already at the field. I hopped a cab to the hotel like Jack insisted and watched the city come into view. Even through the backseat window, I sensed the difference between this city and New York. I assumed they’d be similar, but they weren’t.
Both cities had numerous tall buildings, but that was pretty much where their similarities ended. While New York appeared dirty and lived in, Chicago was spotless and trash free, newer maybe. And where New York buzzed with constant energy, Chicago exuded more of a gentle hum.
I checked in at the hotel on the bank of the Chicago River and ordered room service while I killed time before the game. I looked out the window at the water down below and the city that surrounded me. Chicago had a style all its own, and I smiled as I thought about capturing it with my camera. I’d have plenty of time for that tomorrow.
When I arrived at the stadium, I almost spent the entire evening staring at the WRIGLEY FIELD, HOME OF THE CHICAGO CUBS sign. It was such a classic piece of baseball memorabilia that I found myself awed by it. I took a few shots of the aged red-and-white sign, loving everything about it, before picking up my lone ticket waiting for me at guest relations. I passed through the dark entrance, lost in the excitement of a new-to-me stadium.
Once inside, I wandered alone, going the wrong direction at first before turning aroun
d. I wondered if any of the mean girls would be here. Aside from Trina, there wasn’t anyone I wanted to see. Three text messages later, and I found out Trina was still out of the country on her job. I scanned the row of green seats searching for mine. I dropped into my chair before looking around. I found myself surrounded by a few pretty, college-aged girls, but no one that looked familiar. My shoulders relaxed at the absence of any mean girls. I didn’t realize how stressed out they made me feel until they weren’t around.
Without the distraction of the usual fans or the mean wives, I concentrated completely on watching Jack play. The way he focused always impressed me. He seemed like another person entirely when he stood on that mound of dirt. He blocked out every sound, every shout, every yell, and zoned in one hundred percent on the batter standing sixty feet away.
And when he gave up a hit, he gathered his composure and refocused his energy, unlike some of the other pitchers who became completely rattled when someone got a hit off them. In a game in which your state of mind could make or break you, Jack had the ability to keep it together. His temper off the field never translated on it. Jack always moved forward, putting the last play behind him and focused on the next one.
His passion and sheer respect for the game he loved only made me love him more. I admired the way Jack played ball. It showed a lot of internal character to pitch the way he did. He was focused, determined, and played with a full heart. How can you not love that?
When the game ended, I asked three different security guards for directions to the visiting team’s locker room. With my ID card in hand, I wandered underground and waited for Jack to emerge. It was odd being the only person waiting. Players started to walk out of the locker room, each one flashing me a quick smile before walking away. I wondered if they even knew who I was. I hadn’t really met any of the players since Jack, and I didn’t spend time with them socially.
Trina’s boyfriend Kyle walked out, and I smiled. “Hey, Cass. Jack’s on his way out,” he said, before giving me a quick hug.
“Thanks. Tell Trina I miss her.”
