Grand Slam

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “I heard. So is Jeffrey, but he’s out of town.”

  “So that was my mistake, huh?” It’s a joke, but even I’m not laughing. I had planned, albeit sort of late, to spend time with Travis and Lucy, exploring Boston and making sure to visit the ice sculptures. I was looking forward to New Year’s Eve and watching the fireworks from the top of the hotel during the Boston Rotary dinner and then spending the next day watching football. It’s nothing but a fantasy now and something I knew I should’ve never even allowed myself to dream about.

  We take a cab to the courthouse, and by the time we arrive, the news stations are setting up. I speak to each one briefly before entering through the heavy double doors. Not surprisingly, the halls are quiet, making it easy to find Travis.

  “All rise,” the bailiff says as I slip in. I take a spot behind Irvin and Travis, who is dressed in an orange jumpsuit. Seeing him like this pisses me off. He doesn’t deserve this type of treatment.

  “Be seated,” the judge says. He immediately starts shuffling papers and yawns. “This is the matter of the state of Massachusetts versus Travis Kidd on the counts of rape and assault. How do you plead?”

  “Not guilty, Your Honor.”

  I’m taken aback by the hollowness in his voice. When he turns and makes eye contact with me over his shoulder, I start to smile, but his eyes are vacant. To him, I’m nothing more than someone he pays to make him look good, and I haven’t been doing a very good job of that lately.

  “The state is asking that Mr. Kidd be held without bail.”

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, Your Honor.” Irvin stands. “My client has cooperated with the police from the beginning, even voluntarily submitting his own DNA sample, and still to this day, the state has been unable to produce a report implicating my client. Mr. Kidd is being accused of multiple crimes that he did not commit, and the state is willing to ruin this man’s career because of who he is. I’m asking that my client be released on his own recognizance.”

  “These are some fairly strong charges, Mr. Abbott.”

  “Yes, sir, they are, but I assure you that Mr. Kidd is innocent. We have a witness that can confirm his whereabouts if this were to go to trial, but wasting the taxpayers’ money is not in the best interest of the state. The victim in this case is my client, and not the accuser. She’s simply a woman scorned.”

  My eyes drop to my hands as my life flashes in front of me. This is another mark against me, and one Elijah will happily add to the growing list of reasons he’s coming up with to take Lucy away.

  “The state is willing to accept three million for bail,” the assistant district attorney says.

  Travis’s head falls, and I desperately want to reach out and tell him it’ll be okay, but I know it won’t be.

  The judge continues to look over the summons, flipping pages back and forth, while we wait for his answer.

  “Mr. Kidd, you are being accused of a heinous crime, and you voluntarily provided your DNA?”

  “Yes, sir,” Travis says after he stands.

  “Did you hit this woman on the day in question?”

  “I did, but not in the way she’s describing.”

  “How so?” the judge asks.

  “As I told the officer this morning, I was coming out of the bathroom and ran into a woman. I didn’t know it was her until after she moved her hair out of her face. I immediately stepped back, and she told me she was calling her lawyer.”

  “You can sit down.”

  He returns to reading, stopping only to jot notes down.

  “I’m going to deny the state’s motion to seek bail in this matter. However, Mr. Kidd, you are not free to leave town. And you”—the judge points to the ADA—“better be ready to proceed next week. I want to see everyone back here after the first of the year.”

  He slams his gavel down, causing me to jump. Irvin and Travis hug, and while I’d love to feel his arms around me, the press is outside waiting, and I’ll be damned if the state is getting to them before me.

  BREAKING NEWS

  Left fielder Travis Kidd has been arrested and charged with rape and aggravated assault. According to the state, Kidd assaulted the victim after he cornered her at her place of employment. The complaint shows that Kidd has been following her around since the rape was reported and even offered her money to “make it go away.”

  During the arraignment, Kidd pled not guilty and was released without bail. A court date was set for next week where the state will need to present their case against Kidd.

  Speaking on behalf of Kidd at the press conference after the hearing, his publicist, Saylor Blackwell, indicated that the state is purposely dragging their feet, and that their lack of evidence in this case is bothersome. Kidd’s attorney, Irvin Abbott, stated that a lawsuit against the state would be forthcoming on his client’s behalf.

  Our staff reached out to Kidd, but we were unable to get a comment from him.

  The BoRe Blogger

  Chapter 27

  Travis

  I stand back while Saylor rips into the district attorney’s office about their shoddy investigation and the damage that it has done to my career. What she doesn’t mention is that my life is in shambles and she’s the only one who can fix it, or at least that is what I keep telling myself. She can give me an alibi for that night, telling the judge that I attempted to leave with her and about the threatening comment that was made. I need her to help put this farce behind me. Little does she know that I’m not giving her an opportunity to say no this time. Saylor doesn’t get to call the shots anymore.

  Hundreds of questions are asked as soon as she finishes her tirade, but the microphone is taken over by Irvin, who echoes everything Saylor said. When it comes down to it, I have a team of people surrounding me who are looking out for my best interests. It’s unfortunate that a handful of my teammates don’t feel the same way. I guess the joke’s on them when I accept the first trade that comes my way. I have never been more excited to get out of Boston than I am now, which is funny because I used to love it here and saw myself retiring in the area.

  Saylor stands next to me, poised and confident. She faces forward, keeping her hands in front of her, watching the crowd of reporters take in everything Irvin has to say. I should listen to him, but I can’t take my eyes off of Saylor. Memorizing everything about her is high on my priority list because I won’t see her ever again after today. I can’t continue to pine for a woman who is hell-bent on keeping me at arm’s length. And when I thought I finally broke through to her, when she finally felt like I was worth the risk, shit hit the fan.

  I sigh heavily, causing her to look my way. She offers me a sweet, and professional, smile before turning her attention back to Irvin. His voice booms over the microphone as more and more onlookers start to gather. The amount of people outweighs the media coverage. I chuckle, thinking about how fucking cold it is outside and yet people are clamoring for any piece of information they can get. Once again, I’ll be front-page news, and the story is pure bullshit.

  When I opened my door this morning, I thought the officers only wanted to question me. I expected them to show up days earlier and had warned Irvin about my encounter with Rachel Ward. I’m not stupid. I wasn’t going to hide this from him, and he told me not to answer any questions unless he was present.

  Let me tell you, there is nothing like being cuffed and stuffed while the media is living outside your house. Being slammed up against my door, having my face pushed into the glass and my legs kicked apart, all while cameras are filming, is such a fucking blow to my ego. It would be one thing if I had done any of the shit I’m being accused of, but I haven’t. Not that my innocence seems to matter to anyone. I suppose I’m lucky that at least I was somewhat dressed, so I was saved from having my junk displayed all over the news.

  As soon as Irvin is done speaking, he’s ushering me back into the courthouse. I glance briefly at Saylor, who has stepped back up to the podium. Sly move on her part, because she k
nows that I need to speak with her. She has to know her time for being silent is over. This situation is out of hand.

  We’re led to a conference room where Jeffrey sits inside at the small table. He shakes hands with Irvin, and they both motion for me to sit down.

  “I cut my vacation short for this shit, Kidd.”

  “Next time, I’ll make sure my legal issues don’t fuck with your ability to get laid.”

  He smirks, knowing all too well that I know what his vacations entail. Jeffrey pushes my contract and a pen over to me and asks me to sign the bottom. My signature allows him to start seeking a trade on my behalf.

  “Before you sign, I think we should meet with Stone.”

  “What for?”

  “Let him know you’re disgruntled.”

  I shake my head. “It’s going to be easier to let me go than replace multiple members of the team. Besides, it’s more than that. After this morning, the way the police treated me and this case, the people of Boston don’t trust me. Parents aren’t going to encourage their kids to get my autograph. My endorsement deals are going to start dropping. The stores are going to stop carrying my gear. I’m ruined here.” I leave out the part where I want to have a relationship with his employee, and she’s one of the reasons I’m leaving.

  “They already are,” he says.

  “Are what?” I ask.

  Jeffrey slides another sheet of paper my way, a spreadsheet full of numbers. “This is what you earned last year,” he says, pointing to one column before moving to the one next to it. “And this is where you currently are with UA pulling their endorsement deal. I’m expecting Nike to follow suit later this afternoon,” he says, sighing.

  “All because some dumb bitch is lying.”

  He nods.

  “This is why you want me to talk to Stone, isn’t it? You don’t think you can get me a good deal?”

  He shakes his head. “Not after this morning. You’ll be a hard sell until you’re cleared.”

  “Which should be next week,” Irvin adds.

  “Which will be today,” I state.

  “What do you mean?” Jeffrey asks.

  “Travis has a witness who is reluctant to come forward. I’m giving him one more opportunity to try and convince her to do the right thing before I subpoena her to testify.”

  “Good,” Jeffrey says. “Make sure she understands that she has no choice.”

  “Meaning what?” I ask.

  Jeffrey leans forward. “Meaning I can make her life hell if she isn’t willing to play ball.”

  I want to slam his head down on the table and tell him to shut the fuck up, but he doesn’t know he’s referring to Saylor. She has said she could lose her job for being with me, if our time together ever came to light. That’s not my intention. The other factor, the one where she could go to jail—that is where Irvin will have to step in and protect her. I don’t want to hurt her, but I’m left without a choice, and it seems that my time is very limited.

  Jeffrey and Irvin continue to talk about my contract and my declining endorsement deals while I watch the door, waiting for Saylor to come through. Even though she’s made it very clear that we aren’t together, seeing her still makes me happy, although I wasn’t expecting her to be at my arraignment this morning and she caught me off guard.

  I’m sure the look I gave her made sure she knew exactly how I was feeling, because, honestly, this matter could’ve been cleared up weeks ago if she would have just told her side of the story.

  Irvin offers lunch. I decline, but Jeffrey takes him up on his offer. I can’t imagine what those two are going to discuss while sitting in a restaurant with liquid courage running through their veins. Irvin is nice enough to have his driver take me home, though. It’s the last place I want to be after what went down there this morning, but I have no choice. I’m more alone now than I was after the first accusation.

  The media frenzy is in full force when we pull up outside. I’m barely able to get the car door open without bumping into someone. Microphones are thrust into my face while requests for comments are thrown at me, and protesters are pumping their signs up and down, yelling at me. Everything from rapist and pervert to creep is being slung my way, and they’re demanding that I be released from the Renegades. Across from them, there are a few die-hard fans screaming obscenities at the protestors.

  There’s a police presence but they’re not concerned with me getting to my door. They’re holding back the fans and the protesters from going at each other. Irvin’s driver tries to help, but he’s jostled by the media and ends up back in his car. I don’t blame him. It seems to be the safest place right now.

  One officer yells to let me by, and I want to thank him and invite him for a cup of coffee, but he’s doing the job he’s being paid for. In all likelihood, he doesn’t give a shit about me.

  When I finally reach my door, I feel something slam into my back. Even before I can turn around, another object smashes into my door. My house is being egged, and all the police are doing is telling people to knock it off.

  I feel like turning around, giving them the bird, and telling them that their wish has been granted. Boston will no longer be my home.

  As soon as I step inside, I lock the door and close the blinds. Once again, my home is dark and drab. I don’t bother trying to clean my suit jacket once I take it off. Instead, I throw it away, not needing an article of clothing to remind me that the town I adopted as my own has turned its back on me.

  My phone is ringing with multiple calls. Ethan’s and Cooper’s names are in my notifications, but I ignore them. I have nothing to say. They should run far away from me so I don’t ruin their careers as well.

  The one call I do answer is from my father, who sounds drunk.

  “Shit’s not getting better?” he asks. Not “Hey, son” or “Are you okay?”

  “No,” I say as I sit down and kick my shoes off. If it weren’t for Irvin, I would’ve been at the press conference in my pajamas. He had enough foresight to stop by my place and grab a suit for me to wear.

  “Fly to the Keys; spend the rest of the winter on the yacht.”

  “I can’t leave or I’d be there in a heartbeat. I asked for a trade but my agent doesn’t think it’ll be feasible. After today, I have a feeling they’re going to let me go.”

  “That’s bullshit. You’ll sue them.”

  “I don’t know, Dad. Shit’s just…”

  “Do you want your mother and me to come to Boston?” he asks.

  The thought is nice but not what they want to do. While the offer seems genuine, he’s a selfish son of a bitch who enjoys his yacht and won’t survive one day with the cold weather here. Not that I can blame him.

  “Nah, you earned your retirement. Think of it this way. Either I’ll see you for spring training or you’ll have to pick me up at some port, because I’ll be staying with you until I find a new job.”

  There’s some shuffling in the background, and then my mom’s voice comes on the line. “Your house is on the news. You should go to the window and wave so I can see you.”

  “No, I’m not doing that, Ma.”

  “It would make me happy.”

  “Not today, Ma. I don’t want anyone outside to think I give a shit.”

  “Well, if I were there…”

  Right. If she were here, she’d be on the porch with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and a rolling pin in her hand, looking like she belonged in a bad Aerosmith video. I know they mean well, but sometimes my parents are better left where no one can see them.

  “I know, Ma, but I want you to have fun and relax. Everything will work out.”

  My parents continue to pass the phone back and forth until I tell them that I need to eat, and by eating, I mean drinking. This new liquid diet that I’m on is super in keeping me so fucking numb that I don’t have a clue as to what’s going on. It allows me to talk to myself and surprisingly give appropriate answers, and I’ve even found out that I can sing. Maybe tha
t should be my next career move, the former baseball player who turns into a drunken singer.

  Sounds pretty fucking legit if you ask me.

  Twenty-Eight

  Saylor

  As soon as I step away from the podium, I have nowhere else to stand except next to Travis. This is where I should be, but after the other day and the unpleasant look he gave me inside the courtroom this morning, I’m inclined to say that he’d rather I be elsewhere. I try to keep my focus on the reporters, watching their mannerisms and reactions to what Irvin is saying. I knew he had discussed the potential of a lawsuit with Travis and am honestly not surprised they’re moving forward. Someone should be held accountable for the injustice that has been brought upon Travis, not to mention how this has disgraced his name.

  Paul Boyd signals at me, letting me know he wants to talk. Weeks ago, I promised him a sit-down with Travis, but he’s yet to give any interviews. Knowing these reporters, Paul’s probably growing anxious and thinks I forgot.

  When Irvin walks away from the podium, he guides Travis back into the courthouse, leaving me to answer any lingering questions. Internally, I groan. I’d rather be running down the steps and hailing a cab than answering reporters.

  “Go ahead, Paul.” I’m sure to single him out.

  “Earlier, Mr. Abbott stated that Kidd pled not guilty. Can you confirm if that was on both charges?”

  “Yes; Mr. Kidd entered a plea of not guilty on both charges and was released without bail.”

  “What about the other woman?” another reporter asks.

  “I’m sorry?” The question catches me off guard.

  “The rumor about Kidd being with another woman that night. Is there any truth to that?”

  “I’m not aware. Next question,” I say, swallowing hard and pointing to a different reporter. The police would never leak that there’s a witness, so that had to come from Abbott and Abbott. Irvin is trying to call me out, even though he doesn’t know it’s me. He’s smart to do it this way. He’s hoping that whoever Travis was with that night is watching everything unfold on national television, and Irvin is praying that this will somehow make her feel bad.