by Jean Joachim
Pocketing the bills, she stuffed the key in her pocket and made tracks to the grocery store. Tonight she’d concoct a meal to remember.
* * * *
Jake rolled into the parking lot and turned off the motor. After his trip, he was looking forward to seeing his teammates again. He couldn’t stop smiling. She’d told him she loved him. He’d won the best girl in the world, and now he’d push his body into shape and whoop ass on the baseball diamond.
He whistled the song Friendship as he strolled to the locker room. His closest buddy, Skip Quincy, the shortstop, was already there, rummaging through his locker for something.
“Jake!” Quincy hollered. He grabbed his friend’s left hand. “No wedding ring!”
Jake snatched his hand from his friend’s grip. “I told you. I’m not married.”
“But there’s a girl?”
“Yeah. An actress. Singer. Gorgeous.”
“And you two traveled together?”
“Some asshole desk clerk assumed we were married, just because we were checking into the same room.”
Skip wiggled his eyebrows. “Not married, but enjoying the honeymoon?”
Jake felt color in his face. “None of your business.”
“How did you meet her? At a bar?” Nat Owen asked.
“That’s a long story.”
Before Jake could launch into his tale, Cal Crawley, the manager, entered the locker room.
“Hey, Jake. Good trip?”
“The best.”
“Did you manage to see that guy in Durham?”
“Gary Nevers?”
Crawley nodded.
“Yes,” Jake said.
“Come, fill me in.” Cal motioned for Jake to follow him. His teammates gestured behind the manager’s back, but Jake simply shrugged. When Cal Crawley beckoned, you followed.
An hour later, he joined his buddies in the workout room. He set the treadmill and jogged. Matt Jackson, Dan Alexander, Nat, Skip, and Bobby Hernandez gathered around.
“Okay, buddy. What happened on the road?” Matt asked.
“Let’s go! Get out there. Jake, batting. Quincy, fielding. Owen, first base. Matt, behind the plate. Come on. Tomorrow is opening day.”
The guys dispersed before Jake had a chance to clue them in. He put on his batting glove and hit the field. Time to tap into his amazing focus and hit a few out of the park.
At noon, the players hit the meeting room. There was a buffet of sandwiches, salads, and iced tea, milk, and juice. Accompanied by the rest of the starting infielders, Jake sat at a long table. He dug into a plate piled high with a hero sandwich, macaroni salad, potato salad, and pickles.
“Okay. We’ve waited long enough,” Skip said. “Give.”
Jake took a couple of bites, then a swig of his drink.
“You’re not going to believe my luck,” he started.
As he talked he heard footsteps behind him.
“All that time and you weren’t doing the deed?” Dan Alexander asked.
“Nope. That’s what was so funny about the clerk thinking we were married.”
“And now?” Skip raised his eyebrows.
“That’s none of your business,” Jake said, casting his gaze at his hands.
“Let’s go. Back outside,” Cal called, bailing his third baseman out of an embarrassing situation.
As they headed for the field, Matt asked, “So you’re going to be auditioning for Broadway?”
“No, not me, you moron. Her. I’m just along for the ride. She needs someone who knows the song.”
“But you’re going to sing back, right?” Matt continued.
“Yeah. But it’s not about me. They’ll be watching her. No one gives a shit if I sing on key.”
“At least you’ve got a pretty good voice,” Nat said.
“For singing in the shower. I’m not a professional or anything. Not even close.”
“Coulda fooled me,” Nat mumbled as he slipped on his glove.
Jake patted his friend on the back. “Thanks, Nat. Just hope they feel that way about Kate.”
He stepped up to the plate while Moose Macafee headed to the mound. It was the relief pitcher’s turn to go head-to-head with the Nighthawks’ biggest hitter. Jake went into the zone, marshaling his impressive ability to focus on the ball. He didn’t expect to be able to get back into the game so fast, having spent two weeks falling in love. But he did. His head was on the field, his eyes narrowed as the ball was released.
He knocked it into centerfield, sending Chet Candelaria back to the warning track. But the ball was out of the park. Jake chuckled and insisted on loping from base to base. His body hummed, performing at a high level as Jake whacked pitch after pitch into the stands.
After a dozen, Moose took off his glove. “I give up, man. What’ve you been eating?” The pitcher shook his head and made tracks toward the bullpen.
* * * *
Kate showered and slipped on Jake’s jersey and nothing else. Potatoes were baking in the oven. Steak sizzled in the cast iron grill pan while sautéed mushrooms and onions rested in a skillet, keeping warm on the stove. A crisp salad hid in the fridge.
A hint of chocolate in the air gave away her secret dessert, warm brownies with vanilla ice cream. As she rubbed more garlic on the steak, her stomach growled. Her mouth watered at the tantalizing aromas swirling through the apartment.
Kate wanted to give her lover the meal of his life before opening day. There was so much she owed him for everything he’d done. She was so far in debt, she’d never be able to repay him. Tomorrow he’d be stepping in for Keith. Maybe she’d have to marry him and spend the rest of her life making it up to him. Her hand flew to her mouth. Who mentioned marriage? No. No way. She had lots to do before she could even consider that. But, if she’d accomplished everything on her mental list, Jake would be in the running for her hand. Although she hadn’t known him long, she had a feeling he was husband material.
“Honey, I’m home!” Jake’s voice boomed through the apartment. Kate jumped, then laughed.
“Oh, it’s my big, handsome, strong man!” She fluttered her eyelids at him and joined her hands in front of her chest.
He snickered, then stopped to stare, his gaze sweeping over her slowly. “Wearing that again?”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“I love it. Now take it off.”
“Uh, uh, uh,” she said, wagging her finger at him. “Dinner first.”
“What’s cooking? Something smells great,” he said brushing his lips over hers before removing his jacket and hanging it in the front closet.
“Come on,” she said, taking his hand, leading him into the living room. She had set the table by the big windows.
“Do you want to open the wine?” she asked as she lit two candles.
“No wine for me. Opening day tomorrow. Noon. I need to be sharp.”
“None for me. Bad for the vocal chords before an audition.”
“I guess that’s for me, too. Though nobody’s going to be listening to me.”
“You never know. What if they wanted to hire you and me?”
He laughed. “Fat chance.”
“Would you leave baseball for Broadway?”
“Nope.”
“Aww. It would be such fun to be kissing on stage as well as off.”
He gave her rear a pat. “Never happen. Dinner ready yet?”
“Hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Coming right up.” She swung her hips a little more than usual as she headed for the kitchen.
Jake followed. “Can I help?”
She gave him the salad and then the water pitcher. She prepared plates with steak smothered in onions and mushrooms, and the creamy potatoes with butter in the kitchen and carried them to the living room.
His eyes lit up when she placed the plate in front of him. “Amazing! Did you make this?”
She nodded. He sliced off a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth. As he
chewed, he closed his eyes and moaned. “Delicious.”
She grinned, then took a taste herself. “Not bad.”
“Not bad? This is gourmet, baby.”
Jake dug into the tempting meal with enthusiasm. Kate asked him questions about practice and the opening day game happening the next day.
“We’re playing the Philadelphia Bucks. They should be easy as shit to beat. We wiped them out again and again last year.”
“Then the game will be quick?”
“You never know in baseball. But it should be over in about three hours, tops.”
“Then you’ll come down to the theater, right?”
“Right. I’m taking the car. You know how fast I can go.”
She took his hand between hers. “You’re the best, Jake.”
“And that meal belonged in a four-star restaurant. Or my belly. Thank you.” She palmed his cheek. He turned and kissed her hand.
When they finished, he cleared the dishes away and loaded the dishwasher.
“Leave the rest. Blanche will get them tomorrow,” he said, taking her hand. “Come to bed.”
“So early?”
“We need to be rested for tomorrow. And relaxed.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
Her eyes widened. She grinned. “Oh, yes. Relaxed. Absolutely.”
He picked her up over his shoulder, rear end to the sky. With a playful, gentle slap on her butt, he headed toward the bedroom.
Kate giggled as she clung to his neck and shoulder to keep from falling.
“My caveman!” She shrieked, laughing.
“I want my woman,” he said, giving a low growl and grinning.
After they made love, Jake turned off the light. Her body relaxed, but her mind worried. Tossing, she found it difficult to find a comfortable position.
“Restless?” he whispered.
“Yeah. Nervous. Tomorrow,” she replied.
“Come here. I’ve got you,” he said, drawing her into his embrace, then rolling her on her side. He spooned her, wrapping his arms around her. He lowered his head to kiss her neck.
“You’re the best. Really talented. Now you have to believe you can do it. If you do believe, you’ll succeed. I believe in you.”
“You do?”
“I do. If it were up to me, you’d be hired.”
“But that’s because you’re sleeping with me.”
“No. Objectively, if I can be objective. I’d hire you.”
“Thanks.”
“Remember to focus on what you’re doing and forget everything else.”
“Is that what you do?”
“Yep. And it works.”
“Okay. I’ll try. Thank you.” She kissed his forearm.
“I love you, Kate. You can do it. You can do anything.”
The warmth of his love surrounded her, protecting her, cocooning her with a veil of affection. His strong arms would keep the bogeyman and the nightmares away. For now, she was a winner, she had Jake’s love. And that would have to be enough. Tomorrow was a crapshoot, with the outcome unpredictable. She let it go and closed her eyes.
Chapter Eight
Tuesday morning, Jake and Kate rose quietly and went about getting ready for their day without much conversation. She made bacon and eggs for him, which he wolfed down with two mugs of coffee.
“Aren’t you eating?” he asked.
She munched on a piece of bacon. “I’m too nervous to eat a lot. I do better without a big, full stomach anyway.”
“I always chow down before a game.”
“Different styles,” she said, smiling.
“I run it off, believe me.”
“I do.” She refilled her mug and poured him a glass of juice.
Jake threw on his sweats and headed for the door. As he kissed her, she slipped a piece of paper into his palm.
“The address of the theater.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you at four.”
She smiled. “Good luck. Hope you win.”
“Winning the opener gives us momentum.”
“Then I hope you do.”
He put his car in gear and drove to the stadium. On the way, he focused his mind on the game and what he remembered about the players on the Bucks. Time to get in the zone and go out there and beat the shit out of the Philadelphia team.
There was the usual buzz in the locker room. Married teammates talked about their plans for Easter with their kids. Single guys related a few hot moments from recent dates or asked for advice as they got dressed.
Jake was silent. The sound of locker doors shutting broke his concentration.
“Ready?” Skip asked, slipping his glove on.
Before Jake could speak, Cal Crawley entered.
“Gather around,” he said. “Okay. We didn’t make it last year. This year, we’re gonna get to the series and win it. Win it. Yep. This is our year. You’re in top condition, practiced your balls off. You should be ready. Let’s go out there and show the Bucks what the Nighthawks are made of.”
The team let out a yell and followed their manager to the field. Jake stood next to Skip Quincy and Matt Jackson for the national anthem. He sang out loud and clear. Figured he was simply exercising his voice for the audition later that day.
The Bucks were the visiting team, so they were up to bat first. Jake and Skip loped out to their positions at third base and shortstop. They nodded to each other and waited for Dan Alexander to take the mound. Matt put his face mask on and went into his crouch. The game was on. First pitch—a strike. Jake smiled, things were going his way.
Three up, three down—Dan struck out the first three batters. The Nighthawks headed for the dugout. Nat Owen was up first. Then Skip, then Bobby Hernandez, the second baseman. Jake sat back, watching Nat loosen up. Matt approached Jake holding a baseball cap upside down.
“You in?” he asked.
“Nah. Too much on my mind today.”
Matt nodded and smiled. He understood. Almost every game, the Nighthawks collected a pool. Every guy put in five bucks. The money went to the player who spotted the hottest chick in the stands first. Gave them something to do while they waited to bat.
The catcher sat down next to Jake.
“Same old, same old with this team?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know. They’ve got a couple of new players.”
“They stunk really bad last year,” Jake said.
“We’ll see about these new guys,” Matt replied. “Might be different this year.”
Nat struck out, Skip drew a walk. Bobby moved him to second with a sacrifice fly to left field. After waiting in the on-deck circle, Jake strode to the plate as Bobby hit the dugout. He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes at the pitcher.
This guy was new. Jake was taking until he could get a handle on the man on the mound. After two balls and a strike, Jake was primed and ready to do serious damage to the ball. The pitcher let fly and it was straight down the middle. Jake swung and connected. He pulled it foul. But the next pitch was high and outside, Jake’s home run territory. And kill it, he did. The ball soared into the stands. Jake brought Skip home for a two-run lead.
After the congratulations from his buddies, the third baseman took a seat.
“Looks like getting laid regularly agrees with you,” Skip said.
“Don’t give Kate all the credit. I had something to do with that.”
“I’m shooting her a thank-you email,” Bobby said.
Jake laughed.
Matt Jackson walked and Chet Candelaria hit into a double play. The left fielder struck out and the Bucks were coming to bat.
The game went on without much action. The Bucks were held to two hits but no runs. Their pitcher managed to shut down the Hawks, too, much to Jake’s surprise. He checked his watch. At two, they were in the top of the sixth inning. He let out a breath. Looks like everything was going along perfectly. Until that son-of-a-bitch, Newsome Edwards came to bat.
Jake bent over, hands resting on his knees,
chewing gum, eyes focused on the ball. Dan hurled the ball and that asshole Buck swung. He nicked a piece of it and it flew, like a bolt of lightning, into Dan’s shin. The pitcher went down. The batter took off, high-tailing it to first.
Shit! Dan was rolling around on the ground, grabbing his leg. The umpire called time and two Hawks’ trainers raced out to the mound. Skip and Jake huddled together, watching. After a few minutes, Dan stood up. With an arm around one of the trainers, he limped off the field. The crowd gave him a round of applause.
Crawley had to call in another pitcher. Dan was due to leave in the seventh anyway, but he’d been doing great and Cal might have wanted to leave him in. Now his pitching status would be put on hold until they could heal his leg. Jake said a prayer that it wasn’t broken. A ball that hard, could easily have shattered the bone.
Woody Franklin, a Hawk’s relief pitcher, loped out to the mound. He started warming up with Matt. The next batter was a new guy. He was reputed to be a long ball hitter, but Jake hadn’t seen anything but a string of foul balls and then a strikeout from the guy.
The game resumed. Long Balls, the nickname the team gave to Harvey Rutch, Bucks hitter, took two pitches. One strike and one ball. Jake tensed his muscles, focused his gaze on the pitch, ready to move. Crack! There it was. Long Balls lived up to his name. Jake whirled around, watching it take flight. Chet ran his ass off, heading toward the warning track. The ball made it about a foot above the wall into the first tier stands just as Candelaria crashed into the wall. The outfielder stood up, rubbing his shoulder as the Jumbotron registered HOME RUN!
Shit, fuck, ass wipe. Long Balls had just tied the game and lived up to his new name. Jake threw his glove down in disgust. He needed this game to be over. He glanced at his watch again. The minute hand was inching toward two thirty. A tie would mean extra innings. They needed to get this last out, score, and keep the Bucks at two.
He couldn’t let Kate down. He was all she had. A quick prayer and fingers crossed while Franklin went into his wind up. The batter was not their best and the reliever struck him out on three consecutive pitches.
