by Faith O'Shea
“Then, yes, please.”
He scrambled down to his room, threw a clean change of clothes into his bag, and hurried back.
When she handed him the bar, he ripped off the wrapper and took a bite. “Not bad.”
When he looked up, she had two waters in her hands, her own sports bag thrown over her shoulder, and her heavy coat on and was standing by the door.
“You’ll have to come to the office with me. Making all those trips back and forth will cut into our time. You sure you want to come?”
“It will be interesting to see where you work. It is at Harborside?”
They had locked up and were waiting for the elevator when she nodded. “It’s in the complex, on the opposite side of the clubhouse. Our spectator seats are right outside the office so we can move in and out at will.”
“When I’m standing in the on-deck circle, I will look up to let you know if I’m going to hit it out.”
She looked skeptical. “You can choose that at will?”
“I can’t choose, no. But I can feel when I’m in that zone. It rarely fails me.”
“So, if we need a clutch hit, in say, the ninth inning, and you’re in that zone, we’re good?”
“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”
Those cat eyes were searching his for the truth of that statement. It wasn’t a boast. His gut knew when he was going to launch one. It was the kind of knowingness that always came when he had a bat in his hand.
She tossed him a set of keys as soon as they reached the allotted parking spaces, pointing to a dark gray Lexus ES F Sport. “It’s not too big, not too small, and it drives like a dream.”
He was walking around it, his hand sliding over the exterior as he did so.
“Well, what do you think?”
“It’s brand new, isn’t it? And just the right size. You did well with both house and car. I think I like having you in charge of my finances.”
“Do you want to see how it feels?”
“Without a license?”
“I guess that would be a risk. If we got stopped, you might lose the right to get one.”
“You drive. I’ll ride. There’s enough room for my legs here.”
“Are you saying you want to keep it?”
He placed his hand on his chest to prove he was sincere and said, “Very sure.”
He tossed the keys back, and when she snatched them out of the air in one fluid movement, he was impressed.
“Did you ever think about drafting yourself?”
She laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a first? Unfortunately, the league doesn’t allow women to taint their hallowed halls.”
He heard the click of the locks sliding open and watched her get behind the wheel and adjust the seat before taking his place beside her. He couldn’t help but smile. The car was roomy, the leather interior comfortable, the seats warm, and she was here.
As she was pulling out of the garage she said, “You might want to program some music stations.”
“How do I do this?”
“The car came with a subscription to Sirius, so go to the menu, hit the icon and then scroll through the selections until you find something you like. When you do, push one of those buttons and hold it in until it pings.”
“What is Sirius?”
“It’s a streaming system that’s commercial free.”
“Do they have Latino music?”
“They offer pretty much everything so I’m sure they must. It’s probably further down the list.”
He continued to scroll passing a variety of genres and sports. While he did, he asked, “What kinds of stations do you listen to?”
“Current hits, nineties, country, classical, jazz. It depends on my mood.”
“I am always in the mood for island style.”
He finally found one labeled tropical Latino hits and followed her directions. The car was filled with maracas and a man’s voice belting out a song in Spanish. He began to sing along with the familiar lyrics while his body moved to the beat. He closed his eyes and let himself be transported back to the land that used to be home. When it finished with a flourish, it was followed by another one he knew, a slower number, and he sang it with emotion. He’d never felt so free in his life.
He finally noticed that Alicia had pulled into the parking lot at Calipari’s. She’d left the car running so he could finish his serenade, and as soon as he was done, she shut off the motor.
Her eyes were bright with appreciation. “You have a very nice voice… and those moves. Do all Latinos have that kind of rhythm?”
He gave her a wide grin. “There is music and dance always on the streets of Havana. Musicians sit in front of the store fronts with bongos, guitars, sticks, and play to whatever audience appears. It is the way of life in Cuba.”
“In other words, it’s in your blood.”
“Yes. It is. It is where the salsa and mambo originated. Did you ever hear of the bolero?”
She shook her head.
“It is the embodiment of a romantic love song and purely Cuban. The trova spread gossip and news through in lyrics and melody. It is a rural style that places like my small town used to be famous for.”
“Sort of like troubadours.”
The smile that slowly tipped the edges of her mouth made his heart race.
She was in his blood as well, and he felt a surge of desire that he was barely able to conceal.
Patience, Mateo. The chill in her heart is melting. Take your time.
Listening to his own advice, he got out of the car, dragging their bags along with him.
When they entered Calipari’s, she guided him in the opposite direction from where the mock baseball field was housed, and on entering the gym, he looked around at the gleaming silver and black equipment. Would he ever get used to the change in circumstance? If he had known America was like this, he would have come years ago. His mother had been trying to convince him for that long, but he’d hesitated, unsure as to whether he could leave his homeland.
“Hey, Case. I brought a friend.”
He looked up to see a woman coming toward them, wearing brightly flowered spandex and a designer tee. Her hair was in a ponytail, she wore glasses, and she looked very much like Mac, who he’d seen on the news last night giving an interview as the new manager.
She came right over to him, her hand out to shake his, but her eyes were twinkling at Alicia.
“A friend, huh?”
Alicia was giving her an evil stare, telling her without words not to…what? Ask questions? Or did she know the story? They were friends and you told friends your secrets.
“Yeah. This is the guy I was telling you about.”
“Nice to meet you, Mateo. I think I heard the guys were calling you Mattie, weren’t they?”
She’d overheard them talking? Had she taken a look at her long-lost love while they were here the other day? He’d seen Seb sneaking side-long glances up to the walkway that he assumed bridged the spaces between offices and the athletic training facilities. He was going to walk the line of neutrality. This was Alicia’s friend and he wasn’t going to get on her bad side for kibitzing with Seb about her.
With polite formality he said, “Yes. Rique’s been calling me that since I met him in Brazil.”
“Do you like it, or would you prefer your legal name?”
“Mattie is my new American name. It fits, don’t you think?”
“It does. Welcome to our humble gym. If there’s a machine that you don’t know how to work, let me know and I’ll explain it. Or Allie can. She’s worked them all at one time or another. Now me? I just use the treadmill or elliptical. I’m not into sweat the way our friend is.”
Again, Alicia shot her a look that was dangerous, but Casey just smiled good-naturedly instead of backing off.
“We had a lot of these machines in our training center in Camagüey and Havana, but they were old and falling apart. It will be nice to know whatever I choose will not spit a par
t out at me.”
Alicia rummaged in her bag and pulled out a small device and handed it over, the earbuds wrapped snuggly around it.
“I brought my old iPod with me, if you want to use it. I have a fairly large play list, so you should be able to find something you like to listen to while working out. I can use my phone.”
“How does it work?”
Allie seemed surprised. “You’ve never seen an iPod?”
“I think you keep confusing me with people who come from countries like yours. Cuba had very little by way of technology. And few have the means with which to purchase something like this, even if they were available.”
She’d been biting her lip while he talked, as if she had to retrain her brain as far as he was concerned.
Mateo was amused. “Sorry. You have your work cut out for you, don’t you? In my development.”
She was awash with shame but he heard Casey chuckle.
“No. I’m sorry I keep expecting you to know things we take for granted here.”
Patiently, she showed him the thin rectangular device, moved her thumb around, telling him how to get the music to play and how to shuffle the songs if he didn’t like what was on. He attempted to duplicate her movements, and after putting the earbuds in, he almost jumped at the raucous music that came streaming through the wires.
She lowered the volume with a flick of her fingers, her eyes taking him in. “I tend to like it loud.”
“It allows you to block out all thought?”
“I guess it does. I love being caught up in the beat, the lyrics, the instruments, and when I’m exercising it’s easier to move to a rhythmic tune. There’s no room for anything else.”
“I will take good care of it.”
Offhandedly, she said, “You can keep it.”
He hadn’t expected the offer or what she said next. “I’ll show you how to add to the playlist later.”
“When we get home?”
His eyes met hers, the smolder nothing short of a fiery backdraft. The air had been sucked out of his lungs as well, or worse, singed with heat. He was beginning to think it had scorched her vocal cords because she remained mute, her nod the only sign she’d heard him.
After clearing his throat, he asked, “How long are we here?”
“An hour.”
She tripped over her answer and then glanced at her Apple watch and amended, “Forty-five minutes. Where do you want to start?”
“The bike. It’ll loosen me up.”
“Okay. I’ll be over there at the bar.”
He looked over to see a mirror, a power rack with barbell, the individual weights she could add hanging on the side.
The bike would put him at a distinct disadvantage. He wouldn’t be able to watch her from there and he wanted to. Casey came up and asked, “Spin or regular?”
“What?”
“We have a couple of different types of bikes. One has a weighted fly wheel and focuses on strength, endurance, and high intensity. I go for low intensity being the wimp I am.”
She walked him toward a line of stationary cycles, which took up a good thirty feet of space.
“I might as well go for broke.”
“As you wish.”
After she helped him adjust the seat to his height on the more complicated one, and they decided what level of tension he wanted, Casey explained how it worked and his options for landscapes before climbing on the bike next to his. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
She put her feet in the stirrups, programmed her trail, and began to pedal, her movements measured. After putting his earbuds in and turning the music on, he began to race. It felt good. The blood was flowing, and his heart was pumping. He was finally getting his groove back by participating in the practices over the last couple of days. When he’d been in Brazil, the dos Santos’s had driven him back and forth to a gym and some batting cages near where they lived, but it was nothing like being on the field, actually playing the game. He’d never gone so long without the physical productivity he was used to. While working for the state in Cuba, he’d never been given the time to get rusty. The team was their national pride and they were trained hard, pumped up by zealous patriotism. It was the team that was showcased on the field, the grounds reflecting nothing of their purported grandeur. They were run-down and decrepit, whereas
Harborside was brand new and he couldn’t wait to make his debut there. Coming here had been a gamble, but it was paying off. He liked the city, liked the people, liked the freedom to come and go as he pleased. He liked having money to spend and all it offered. He was making friends and he had hopes for the future.
His legs spun faster as he lost himself to the music coming from the device Alicia had given him. She’d said this was her workout compilation and it set a good tempo. In her own way, she was taking care of him although he knew it was nothing more than she’d do for another one of the Greenies’ hot prospects. He glanced over to the other side of the room to see her with the bar, resting on the back of her neck, as she did squats. She had great form, and from what he could tell she could handle a fair amount of weight. He could have watched her all day, but he was unable to sustain the posture, his neck beginning to pinch. Reluctantly, he turned back to face the wall. As he did, Casey caught his eye.
She was mouthing something, so he pulled the buds out of his ears and asked her to repeat it.
“She has great form, doesn’t she? She’s a hell of an athlete. She used to play softball in college, but you can give her any kind of ball and she’ll know what to do with it.”
Casey had obviously caught him watching her. To throw some shade, he asked, “How about you?”
She laughed outright. “You’d think I’d inherited some of my father’s athleticism, but alas, I only got his looks. I got the proverbial you throw like a girl every time I attempted it. It insulted our friend over there more than it did me. Of course, she was the girl who could prove them wrong every time.”
That was the third time she’d exaggerated the word friend. He’d swear she knew what had happened, but he was averse to coming out and asking.
She was less playful, less animated when she said, “If you’re not careful, you’re going to get caught in some crosshairs, Mattie.”
“How do you mean?”
“You’re going to have to pick sides. Not that I’m asking you to, but Allie’s loyal, and anything you tell Seb about our interactions will get back to her. She won’t like it.”
He gave her a curt nod in understanding and added, “I like Seb. He’s funny and irreverent, but I am not one who interferes in others’ lives. What happens when I’m with you and Alicia will go no further.”
She tilted her head, gave him a measured look. “And ditto for what happens between the new triumvirate?”
She must have read his confusion, so she explained, “That’s what Leo’s calling you. The triumvirate. He says you’ve got great chemistry.”
Interesting phrase and he guessed it was pretty accurate.
“We do work well together.”
“That’s exactly what they were hoping for. You’re all young, talented, and you want to win.”
“You know a lot about the team?”
“I grew up with the team, in another era. My friend there has kept me up to date on the current state of affairs. Now, she won’t need to.”
He stopped pedaling. She did know. Was she teasing him, or did she want him to say something?
Alicia had asked him not to and he’d respect her wishes.
Shifting topics, putting her on the defensive, he said, “Now that your father has the manager’s job, you’ll be right back in the thick of things.”
“Not something I’m looking forward to, trust me.”
His phone rang and he picked it up from where he’d placed it on the bar across the front of the bike.
He glanced over and said, “It’s your father.”
“He must have seen you come in with Allie. He wasn�
�t going to call anyone until later.”
She knew more than she was letting on, was already in the thick of things.
“Hello, Mr. Calipari.”
“Good morning Mateo. Please call me Mac.”
“Yes, sir.”
His new manager chuckled at his formality.
“No sir, either.”
“Yes, s—Mac.”
“I’m setting up meetings with all the key players for this morning. I’m hoping you can make it in around eleven thirty. Is that doable?”
“Will they be held here at the complex?”
“No. I want a little more privacy than what this offers. I’m meeting everyone at my house. It’s in Lexington.”
“I will have to check with Alicia. She is driving me places until I can get a license of my own.”
“She’s with you now, isn’t she?”
How did he know that? He looked up at the glass-enclosed walkway and saw Mac standing at the half-way point, a grin on his face.
“She is. Give me a minute please.”
“Sure. I’ll hold.”
Casey must have interceded, told Alicia who was on the line and what he wanted, because they were both walking toward him. He pointed at the manager when she asked, “What’s up?”
She smiled up at him and waved.
“I need to be at Mac’s house at eleven thirty. Can you drive me?”
She nodded to the phone. “Tell him yes,” and then her gaze went back to Mac, giving him a thumbs-up.
He said his goodbye and swiped off.
“That was weird. It made me feel like I was back in Cuba being spied on.”
Casey gave him a generous smile. “Don’t worry. He’s not the policía. He knows about our workout sessions and he walks when he talks, which is probably how he knew you were here. I’d estimate he covers a couple of miles while he’s on the phone.”
“What does he want with me?”
“He’s meeting with every player on the team over the next couple of days. He’s starting with the newest arrivals. This morning it’s the triumvirate, as well as Buzzley, Verducci, Collins, and that new kid you’re bringing in for try-outs. The one from Puerto Rico.”
Alicia asked, “He cutting anyone?”
They all knew what she was asking. It had to do with a left fielder and the past.
