Grand Slam

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “What about her dad?”

  She shakes her head, and her eyes go from me to Lucy. Lucy is busy talking to Cooper and Ainsley and not paying attention.

  “Sore subject?”

  “You can say that,” she says.

  The buzzer sounds, and I scoop Lucy up into my arms and put her over my shoulder, much to her squealing delight. She’s laughing so hard that I start to as well. I set her down, and she pushes her hair out of her face.

  “That was fun, Travis. Let’s do it again.”

  I kneel down to her level. “After I introduce you to my friend. His name is Shaun, and he’s here visiting his dad for a bit, so he doesn’t know anyone, and I thought you guys could be friends.”

  “Okay,” she says, shrugging. Life as a five-year-old is simple. I take her over to where Branch is still talking with Stone and introduce Lucy to everyone.

  “Shaun, this is my friend Lucy.”

  “Hi,” he says quietly.

  “Hi,” she replies, grabbing my hand.

  “Shaun’s dad plays baseball with me. Do you remember Branch?”

  “Hey, Lucy.”

  She waves, suddenly shy. Well, this isn’t going like I thought it would.

  “Shaun brought his iPad if you want to play a game with him,” Branch says, pointing to the table. She nods and follows them, climbing up into the chair next to Shaun.

  “Lucy, I’ll be sitting by your mom, okay?”

  “Yeah.” Lucy never looks up as Shaun starts scrolling through his games. Within seconds, they’re deep in conversation about who knows what.

  Branch pulls me close and nods toward Saylor. “You banging her?”

  Oh, how I want to lie right now but don’t. “Nope; she’s my publicist. Saylor actually works for my manager, and she’s been assigned to babysit me until this shit clears up.”

  “She’s actually really good at her job, Branch,” Stone says, joining in on our conversation. “You may want to consider setting up a meeting with her and Jeffrey. He’s expressed an interest in you, and Saylor has done a lot for Travis’s public persona. Jeffrey’s firm does more than public relations. He runs a full-scope business management firm.”

  I look at Stone oddly, wondering why he would encourage one of his players to seek another agent. Everyone knows that Branch got screwed on his current contract, saving the Renegades a shit ton of money. Of course, that benefited the organization but not Branch.

  “Let me introduce you,” I tell him. He follows me over, and Saylor stands when she sees him.

  “Saylor Blackwell, this is Branch Singleton, and for some reason, our GM thinks he needs Jeffrey as an agent, manager, or whatever you guys are calling yourselves these days.”

  They shake hands. “Stone is right,” she says. “Let’s talk.”

  Before I can even blink my eyes, Saylor and Branch are off in a corner discussing business, and Lucy is preoccupied with Shaun. I’m back to being a loner, and while the thought is slightly depressing, at least I’m doing it in the same vicinity as the two girls I wanted to spend the night with. That makes me feel a little bit better.

  I sit down next to Cooper and sigh.

  “Dude, you’re banging your agent’s assistant?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head.

  He laughs, and it makes me want to punch him in the junk. “What the fuck ever, dude. It’s written all over your face. If you’re not dipping yet, you will be soon.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m trying with all my might to keep a straight face, but shit, it’s hard. I want to gossip like a high school girl after her first kiss under the bleachers, but I can’t. The last thing I need is the media running with a story about Saylor and me. She doesn’t need that kind of publicity, and I certainly don’t. Right now, I’m branded a rapist, and for all intents and purposes, she should steer clear of me.

  “Whatever you say, man.” Cooper goes back to talking to Ainsley while I sulk. It’s what I’m good at—feeling sorry for myself.

  Before I know it, the game is over, and the Bruins have won. There will be a celebration down the street at the local bar where my nightmare began a week ago.

  Tonight, I think I’ll walk Saylor and Lucy home and hopefully to their door, where I may be able to steal a good-night kiss from the woman that I desperately want to be with.

  A press conference was held today in the pending case against left fielder, Travis Kidd. The state’s attorney said that the results of the rape kit were inconclusive and further testing will be done using the DNA sample that Kidd voluntarily provided.

  The members of the media were not allowed to ask questions and were left dumbfounded by the statement. Many of us asked questions anyway, but we were not acknowledged. We would like to know why Kidd hasn’t been cleared if the test is inconclusive. Our legal expert says that the state is likely trying to make an example out of Kidd.

  Irvin Abbott, who represents Kidd, stated that he had no comment but promised that justice would prevail. Our calls to Kidd went to voice mail.

  On a side note:

  We want to let Travis know that everyone at the BoRe Blog believes in him, and when he’s ready, we’re here to tell his side of the story.

  The BoRe Blogger

  Eighteen

  Saylor

  The streets of Boston are bustling with holiday shoppers, reminding me that Christmas isn’t that far off, and that means my vacation is coming up. This year, I’m taking time off while Lucy is home on winter vacation for some mother/daughter time. She’s growing so fast that I don’t want to miss these small moments with her, and thankfully my employer is flexible enough to let that happen.

  Cinching my coat closer, I try to ward off the wind that is blowing in from the harbor. It’s my dream to one day live in the south, a place where the sunshine brings you warmth almost daily. Deep down, I know I would miss the snow during the holidays, but I wouldn’t miss the cold.

  A cab finally pulls up, and I slip inside, giving the driver my destination. Irvin and I are meeting today. It’s been about two weeks since the accusation, and the DA’s office has yet to file any charges. We’re all tired of the cat-and-mouse game that is being played. A man’s life and his career hang in the balance. And while he is far from perfect, he deserves justice.

  When I arrive, Travis is outside. I assume he’s waiting for me, but we haven’t really spoken since the hockey game. Honestly, I miss seeing him, and so does Lucy. She asks about him all the time, and I don’t know what to say. I can’t be honest with her and tell her that I chased him off, because she won’t understand.

  “Morning,” I say as I walk up the steps. I’m greeted with his panty-dropping smile as he hands me a cup of coffee. My body rejoices at both the needed dose of caffeine and him. It pains me to admit that he’s consumed my every thought for the past couple weeks. “Thank you.”

  Travis nods but says nothing as he opens the door to Abbott and Abbott. Inside, the office is warm, and I quickly unbutton my coat and remove my scarf. The receptionist tells us where we’re meeting. Travis follows me to the conference room, shutting the door behind him, blocking us from the people walking up and down the halls.

  “I know you’re frustrated,” I start, but close my mouth as he stalks toward me. He takes the paper cup from my hand and sets it on the table, along with my messenger bag. “Travis…”

  “I’ve missed you,” he says as his eyes wander from mine to my lips and back again. Or is it my eyes doing the wandering, needing to know where he’s looking?

  I pull my lower lip in, biting it with my teeth in order to keep my thoughts bottled up inside. The slight nod is an automatic response and one that can, and likely will, get me into trouble. “I can’t,” I tell him in a whisper.

  Those words cause him to step back and move to the other side of the room. He’s not given a chance to say anything, because the door opens, and Irvin, along with his team, comes barging in. They seem to be eager as they take th
eir seats, talking loudly among themselves. This reminds me of the war room, where sports teams strategize for that key player. I’ve been in a few, negotiating last-minute contracts on Jeffrey’s behalf. It’s stressful and not my cup of tea. I’d rather dress the athletes up and have them attend galas and high-society functions where they’re required to open their checkbooks and donate to amazing causes. That is where my talents are—making the athletes shine.

  “All right, the move by the DA this morning is nothing more than a ploy to get more time. Travis, you’re releasing a statement, letting the fine people of Boston know that you’re innocent.” Irvin sits down in a huff, holding his head in his hands. When he looks up, everyone is staring at him. “Right,” he says, starting again. “I’m pissed, and this has gone on long enough. My source down at the lab says the report is inconclusive because the rape kit is missing.”

  My mouth drops open, and there’s a collective gasp throughout the room. I glance quickly at Travis, who seems to be gritting his teeth. If we were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from his ears.

  “Mr. Abbott, what do you mean?” one of the young lawyers asks.

  “The DA and I spoke this morning, minutes before he went live, and he indicated that the rape kit had been tampered with. He said that they’ve pulled all the surveillance footage from the lab and will be following up on leads.”

  “Is that what you think?” Travis asks.

  Irvin shakes his head. “I think that the results came back, and you don’t match. As I’ve said before, the district attorney is up for reelection next year, and this is shaping up to be a high-profile case. Your past isn’t exactly your friend, and if he can make a case stick, he wins the women’s vote, and he forces teams to take a hard look at punishments. As of right now, the Renegades have yet to make a statement, and in the court of public opinion, that doesn’t look so good.”

  “I didn’t rape her. Hell, I didn’t even leave with her. I left with someone else.”

  I try to remain composed even though my heart is racing and my palms are sweating. I’m afraid to move from my spot along the wall, afraid that I’ll draw some unwanted attention.

  Irvin tosses a legal pad toward Travis, along with a pen. “I want her name and number. If she can give you an alibi for that night, I want to talk to her today.”

  Travis nods but doesn’t make a reach for the yellow paper or the pen that he could use to end my career—and permanently alter my life. I need to speak to him before he decides to hand me over to the wolves. Maybe speak to Jeffrey and let him know what’s going on and, most importantly, meet with my probation officer. I fight back the tears and swallow the frog that is currently residing in my throat.

  “Maybe we should delay the press conference until after I’ve spoken to this other woman. What do you think, Saylor?”

  I clear my throat and nod. “One more day or so isn’t going to hurt. We can utilize some sports blogs to leak some information. This will keep his fans and the general public happy. My suggestion would be to use the BoRe Blogger. They seem to have the largest Renegade following and expressed their support for Travis this morning after the press conference.”

  “Work that angle, will ya?” Irvin asks. “So, change of plans. Travis is going to give me the name of his alibi, I’ll meet with her, and we’ll release a statement after the fact.”

  Everyone stands, and the level of talking increases again. The legal pad is eyeing me, mocking my presence in the room, and all I can do is hold my phone in my shaky hand as I stare at my e-mail contacts.

  When the door closes, I jump, dropping my phone. Travis is there to pick it up for me. He hands it to me but does so in such a way that his hand lingers against mine. My already rapidly beating heart picks up speed, if that is even possible.

  “You have to help me, Saylor.”

  “I can’t, Travis. You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” I grab my things and leave the room, hoping that he stays behind. If he gives me up, so be it, but I’m praying that he doesn’t. He’s innocent, and that will come out sooner or later, with or without me.

  I hustle away from Abbott and Abbott and hail a cab a few blocks down the street, asking to be taken to my office. My phone pings with messages from Travis, asking where I am, but they go unanswered. I need to prepare for the inevitable. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not going to matter what Jeffrey says—he can’t have a felon on his payroll, and that is what I’ll be if word gets out that I was in the bar.

  Everything about that night comes rushing back. I chose to walk home, in a daze after reading Elijah’s letter, and stopped there. I didn’t even take a sip of alcohol, knowing that I was making a mistake. And when I saw Travis, I couldn’t leave. I was cemented to the bar stool, watching his interaction with that woman, wishing it were me in his arms. But it wasn’t me. He chose her. And now both of us are going to pay the price.

  Jeffrey is out meeting with clients when I return, leaving me no choice but to wait. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him. How do I tell him that the night I crashed my car was a night that I spent wrapped in the arms of our client? I can’t. It physically pains me to know that I have to look him in the eyes and tell him what’s going on.

  On my desk is the picture of Lucy that I hid from Elijah. She’s my reason for living, and with the fear that Elijah could take her from me weighing so heavily on my mind, I can’t let Travis tell Irvin that I was there. We have to find another way to clear his name. I slip the picture of Lucy into my bag and text Travis to let him know that we need to talk. I tell him that I’m coming to his place. I don’t ask him if he’s told Irvin yet, because I don’t want to know. If he has, he can ask his lawyer to forget he’s ever said anything. He responds instantly.

  I’ll come to your house. Too much media at mine.

  I sort of liked the idea of the media being there as a buffer, ensuring that I would leave in a timely manner. Having him at my house, being near him, makes me weak in the knees. I’m vulnerable when he’s around, tempted to give in to the desire that I feel for him.

  Hurrying out of the office, I rush to the train station and weave in and out of the tourists who are lingering on the streets. The midafternoon commute by train is easier than a taxi, and by the time I’m at my stop, my heart is all but beating out of my chest.

  As I round the corner to my apartment, Travis is standing out front. In his hand is a bouquet of flowers. And unless he has a date after our meeting, I’m assuming those are for me.

  “Hey,” he says, meeting me halfway.

  “Hi, sorry for running out like that. I needed to think.”

  “I’m going to pretend that I understand, but I don’t. And I need you to tell me.”

  “I know, and I will, once we’re inside.”

  “These are for you,” he says, giving me the roses. They’re red and smell heavenly. I head toward the main entrance to my building, and he falls in step behind me, resting his hand on my back. The doorman opens the door and ushers us inside, where we wait for the elevator.

  “What time will Lucy be home?”

  “Not until later. My mom takes her to the library after school. This is usually my late night.”

  I smile at the people getting off and step in. The confined space of the elevator is making it hard to focus. Travis’s cologne overpowers the scent of the roses, and I find myself leaning toward him to get a better whiff. I’m tempting fate, I know, but I can’t help it.

  We’re silent as we walk down the hall to my apartment, and once inside, he goes over to my tree and turns on the lights before bending down onto the floor.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking the water level.”

  “It’s fake,” I tell him with a laugh.

  “Right—I think I knew that.”

  I hang up my coat and motion for his. He hands it over. “I’m going to cut to the chase, Travis,” I say as I hang his coat next to mine.

  “That would be nice.
”

  “Right,” I say, wringing my hands together. I go to the couch and sit down, and he follows, except he takes the middle cushion, leaving no space between us. When his hand rests on my leg, my mind goes fuzzy. “I can’t think when you’re this close.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” I shake my head and turn my gaze away from him.

  “Why?” he asks again.

  “Because I like you, Travis, and you make it hard to focus on the objective.”

  “Which is?”

  When I look at him, he’s smiling. But he won’t be after I tell him what happened and why I need to stay away from him.

  “That night, the one we spent together, it’s been one mistake after another. Not only can I lose my job for being with you, but I can also lose everything. After I left, I wrapped my car around a telephone pole and was arrested for a DUI. I lost my license and am on probation. The night you saw me…I’m not allowed to be in bars, Travis. If you tell Irvin, I could go to jail.” A single tear falls down my cheek, and before I can wipe it way, he’s doing it for me.

  Nineteen

  Travis

  “Why did you leave that night?” I ask, needing to know if it was something I did. I tried my damnedest to make her feel special. To show her that she meant more than any of the others I had been with, that she was different.

  When she walked into the fund-raiser, all eyes were on her. The royal-blue dress accented her olive skin, and I found myself drawn to her. We had worked together in the past, and she’d always been on hand for my screwups but seeing her in that room, and watching all those men flock to her, I grew jealous. I’ve always been attracted to her. It’s hard not to be when someone looks like she does with that long, dark hair and eyes so light blue that I sometimes mistake them for hazel or even gray.

  Saylor sighs and brings one leg up underneath her other one. “I had gotten up and made the mistake of checking my messages. Jeffrey had texted that an associate let him know that we had left together. He didn’t need to remind me that I’d lose my job if I slept with one of our clients. But I knew that’s why he had sent me a message.”