Matt Jackson, Catcher (Bottom of the Ninth #2)

by Jean Joachim

  His mind wandered, thinking about Tom, until they called for the players to board. The men filed onto the plane, taking seats with friends, buckling in and relaxing for the ride. Barker Garland slid into an empty seat next to Matt.

  “About camp. How’d it go?” the general manager asked.

  “Great!”

  Chuckling, Bark asked, “And that girl. The one you walked in on? Did you clear that up?”

  Matt sensed color in his cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah. It was okay.”

  “I figured when I didn’t get a call to bail you out of jail that you’d danced your way outta that one.”

  “About a thousand apologies seemed to do the trick.”

  “Was she worth it? I mean, a girl pro baller could be built like Babe Ruth.” The older man snickered.

  Matt blurted out the truth. “She was worth it. Big time!”

  “I’ve had a lot of feedback about the program. Parents and kids loved it. You did a great job.”

  “And Dusty too. It was a team effort.”

  Bark nodded. “Yes, yes. Her too. We’re discussing making the camp an annual event. Got some great P.R. out of it. Would you be interested in doing it again next year?”

  “With Dusty?”

  “Sure, with her, if you want.”

  “I’d do it again. It was fun.”

  Bark smiled and shot a long look at his player. “So, it’s like that with her?”

  Matt knew he was blushing. “Not really. Well, maybe. At least on my part.”

  Bark clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. I’ll make arrangements for you two to handle camp next year.” He pushed to his feet. “Good luck, Matt. Work your ass off.”

  “I plan to,” he responded, then picked up his book.

  “Come on. We’re playing hearts,” Nat Owen said, tugging on Matt’s sleeve.

  Matt smiled to himself. Might be a long way away, but he’d be seeing Dusty Carmichael again next winter for baseball camp. Perhaps next year, the schedule might include time between the sheets. At least he could hope. “Coming, Nat.”

  “Good. Because I haven’t beaten you in about fifteen minutes, and I’m having withdrawal.”

  “You wish, asshole. Deal!” Matt plopped down into a plush seat next to his buddy.

  * * * *

  Thursday morning, the men sat in the bleachers while Barker Garland spoke.

  “These first two weeks we’ll be checking you out. You’ve got to get in shape for the season. So, we’ll be regulating your meals and exercise. You’ll be eating breakfast and lunch here. You’ll receive a list of foods you can and can’t eat for dinner. Keep to the list. Bart Casper is handling weigh-ins today. Then, Vic Steele’ll set up an exercise routine. Let’s go, guys. This year, we’re going to win the series!”

  The players pushed to their feet, grumbling about the food restrictions as they filed down to the locker room to get weighed.

  “You don’t have to be naked, Bronc. Leave your skivvies on, will ya?” Bart Casper adjusted the scale for the big outfielder. He noted the weight on a chart. “You’ve got to lose twenty pounds.”

  Each one took his turn. Most were overweight, but only by a few pounds. Next, they headed to the weight room, where trainer Vic Steele handed each man a piece of paper with a workout program outlined. The routines were geared to the positions, with special ones for players who’d be handling more than one role.

  “Everyone on the field. We’re gonna start each workout with a run. Let’s go.”

  Matt fell in behind his friends and loped along. He hadn’t worked out much at the gym over the winter, stopped by cold, icy weather, watching ice hockey, and his favorite porn channel. Snowy days when the cable wasn’t working, he read from a shelf of books he’d bought years ago, at the recommendation of his college sweetheart.

  Blood and adrenaline pumped through his veins, lifting his spirits. God, it was good to be moving again, getting in shape. Sweat gathered under his arms and on his chest, soaking his tank top. Jake Lawrence took the lead, followed by Bobby Hernandez, then Skip Quincy and Nat Owen. Matt and Dan Alexander brought up the rear.

  When they finished, they toweled off, sucked down huge quantities of water, and sat in the bleachers waiting for Bark to return.

  “We’re doing things different this year. We’re switching up players. We were unprepared for the injuries we had last year. So, each one of you’ll be schooled in at least two positions. Infield, outfield. It doesn’t matter. We need each spot to be backed up. Next to pitching, a tough defense is our most important weapon. We didn’t have it last year. That’s why we lost the series. Not gonna happen this time. See Bart Casper for your second position. Catchers and pitchers are exempt. See you tomorrow.”

  The men headed for the showers.

  “Where we going for dinner?” Jake soaped up his chest.

  “The Mariner,” Bobby replied.

  “How come you don’t have to sub for anyone, Matt?” Nat asked.

  “Because catchers are better than everyone else, and no one can do what we do,” Matt said, grinning.

  “Go fuck yourself. Anyone can catch. Try playing short,” Skip piped up.

  “You’re just jealous,” Matt replied.

  “Fuck that. First base is the hardest. After some of the shitty throws I’ve received, I can do a split,” Nat said.

  “Does that mean you dance in the ballet, off season?” Matt shot back.

  “Wanna step outside? I’ll show you who’s got balls, asshole.”

  “With one hand tied behind me, jerk-off,” Matt teased.

  “Come on, come on, guys. Shut the fuck up. Let’s go. I need a steak,” Jake said, turning off the shower.

  “Is that on the list?” Skip asked.

  “It’s on my list. Move your ass.” Jake headed for his locker.

  When they were dressed, each man got in his rental car and drove to The Mariner. Matt was the last to arrive. He loved seeing the empty chair at the table and knowing it was for him. Dan was living with his honey, so he wasn’t included.

  Matt eased into the seat. A glass of beer awaited. He took a swig. Beer was permitted in small quantities. Two men ordered steaks, the rest burgers. “When are they gonna give us the schedule?” Nat asked.

  “Tomorrow, Bark said,” Matt answered. “Why do you care?”

  “Met a girl who never misses a Cincinnati Blues game.”

  “Yeah? Where?”

  “I went to one of those resorts. Where everything’s included.” Nat responded.

  “Yeah? And the girl too?” Matt asked.

  “Very funny. Don’t be an asshole. Why didn’t you come?”

  “Was that the thing in February?”

  “Yep,” Nat said.

  “I had that kids’ camp thing.”

  “Oh, yeah. How did that go?”

  Jake, Skip, and Bobby cracked up.

  “You didn’t hear?” Skip asked Nat.

  “Hear what?”

  “Shut up,” Matt said, feeling color rising in his neck.

  “Matt walked in on some chick, naked, in the locker room,” Bobby said.

  “She wasn’t naked!” Matt protested.

  “That’s not what I heard,” Jake smirked.

  “Holy shit! You did? Was she hot?” Nat asked, his brows raised.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Matt said through gritted teeth, heat rising to his face.

  “I heard she threw stuff at him. Called him a rapist,” Bobby said.

  “She did not!”

  “So, tell us. Was she hot? And who was she?” Skip turned to face the catcher.

  “Her name’s Dusty. I thought she was a guy. We did the camp together. That’s all.”

  “Did you do her too?” Nat asked.

  “No. I didn’t do her. She plays ball.”

  “I bet she does.” Jake winked.

  “She plays pro softball. We taught the class together,” Matt said.

  “Yeah? And what else did you teach her?” Bobby snickered.<
br />
  Matt threw his napkin down on the table and pushed to his feet. “Fuck off!”

  The men laughed hard.

  “Come on, come on, Matt. Don’t be such a hard ass,” Jake said.

  Matt strode off to the men’s room. Humiliation washed over him. Then, he remembered her breasts, fresh from the shower, swinging free, with tiny droplets of water clinging to them. He gulped, swallowing saliva. A grin stole across his face at the memory. She put every naked magazine model to shame. He sighed and returned to the table.

  “Tell us, Matt. What did you see?” Skip asked, slicing off a piece of meat.

  Matt grinned. “You’re jealous. Bet you’ve never seen a rack like that up close and personal.”

  The guys simply stared at him.

  * * * *

  As the weeks passed, the infielders were trained in catching the long ball. Then, they were shuffled from first base to third, from second base to first to short stop, until they could field with some speed at any position. Outfielders did fancy footwork challenges and manned the bases, learning how to field fast. Catchers had their own hurdles to clear.

  Bart Casper took Matt and two other players aside for special practice. “We’re going to go over throwing out a guy stealing third. But first, practice getting the ball out of the glove. Remember to grab the ball across the seams. Let’s go.”

  The three lined up. Bart tossed the ball to each man, who caught it with his glove then reached in to retrieve it, without looking, and rifle it back to the trainer.

  “Gotta be able to do it fast, like you were blindfolded.”

  The men nodded. Matt loved this practice. He was rusty. One of the other players beat him at retrieving the ball the first two times. Then, Matt warmed up. They practiced the step and throw then the jump pivot and the rock-back-and-throw.

  “Remember to get those feet under you fast! If your feet aren’t there, you’re off balance, and the throw’ll lack power.”

  Day after day, the men worked out in the morning and practiced all afternoon. At five, they hit a restaurant or Chinese take-out joint, then back to the gorgeous house they rented. In addition to a ton of bedrooms and baths, it had a large, rectangular swimming pool. Matt swam fifty laps every night before going to bed, even on days he was dog-tired. He lost the extra weight by the end of the second week. After four weeks, he was buff.

  Cuddled up with a bottle of water by the pool, he got a text. It was from Dusty.

  Did you mean it about visiting?

  He replied immediately.

  Yes! When can you come?

  This weekend?

  Awesome! Do you want to stay here, or should I get a hotel room for you?

  Whatever you think’s best. Taking an eight o’clock plane Friday.

  Text me your flight info. I’ll pick you up at the airport.

  Matt was bursting with the news. “Hey, guys!”

  His friends looked up.

  “Dusty’s coming down this weekend. She wants to see what spring training is all about. She’s staying here.”

  “With you?” Nat asked.

  “No. In the extra bedroom.”

  “She gonna show us those great tits?” Jake asked.

  “One word out of you and you’ll be eating out of a tube!” Matt rose from his chair.

  Jake laughed. “Don’t worry about me, Matt.”

  “Yeah. It’s about time you got laid,” Skip said, heading for the kitchen.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky,” Bobby said.

  Matt quieted down. He had had the same dream and couldn’t deny it when his friends probed. He prayed none of them would open their mouths, but if past actions were any indication, he’d probably end up embarrassed by them about a hundred times a day. He groaned inside. “And keep your pants on.”

  “Don’t want her checking out our equipment before she gets to see yours?” Nat snickered.

  Oh, yes, this wasn’t going to be easy. He swallowed some saliva and retreated to his room. He toed off his shoes and stretched out on the double bed. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he lay back and thought about Dusty. Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t put the moves on her the moment she landed. He needed to treat her like a colleague. He pursed his lips as he mulled over how to show her spring training.

  First, he’d need to get the okay from Garland to add Dusty in. Then, he needed to be sure no one was walking around naked where she could see. He wasn’t worried about the stadium. The guys changed in the locker room. But at home it was different. Walking around naked and skinny dipping in the pool happened all the time.

  He considered paying the guys to stay covered up, but no one needed the money, so that wouldn’t fly. He figured he’d warn her and remind them about a hundred times. Together, that might work. He pulled a sheet of paper from the desk and grabbed a pen. Where would he take her? She’d be most interested in how they got the pitchers in shape for the season. That was easy, because he’d be there too.

  He sent her a text.

  Do you work out? Maybe you want to run with the team?

  No answer. He checked his watch. It was eleven. She was probably asleep. He slid naked between the sheets and flipped off the lamp on the nightstand. After viewing the antics of his buddies, would Dusty still be speaking to him when the weekend was over?

  He didn’t have the answer to that one.

  Chapter Four

  Matt got to the stadium early so he could speak to Barker Garland privately. He spied Dan Alexander eating breakfast alone. Matt filled a plate at the buffet and pulled up a chair next to his buddy. Chewing, the pitcher nodded then added sugar to his coffee.

  Matt shoveled in a forkful of scrambled eggs and swallowed before speaking. “So, how’s it going?”

  “What? My pitching? You know how that’s going.” Dan picked up a piece of bacon.

  “No, no with the girl…uh, hot, no, Holly?”

  “You mean my fiancée?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Her. Where is she?” Matt wolfed down home fries.

  “Amazing. She’s sleeping in.”

  “I mean. You don’t feel like, claustrophobic or anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “And you’re getting laid?”

  “Hey! A guy doesn’t talk about sex with the woman who’s going to be his wife.”

  “Okay. Sorry. This is all new to me.”

  “I heard there was an incident with the girl team-teaching with you at camp,” Dan said, his eyes twinkling.

  “Fuck. Word gets around, doesn’t it?”

  “Holly says we’re a bunch of gossipy old ladies.”

  “Crap!”

  “She’s right, you know,” Dan said. “Look at how fast that thing with you in the locker room with the naked chick made the rounds.”

  “She’s coming here to visit.”

  Dan raised his eyebrows. “Speaking of getting laid.”

  “It’s not like that. We’re, we’re colleagues.”

  “She plays pro ball?”

  “Yeah. She’s on a woman’s softball team.”

  “Shit. You’re bringing her here?”

  “Yeah, so? She’ll bunk in the spare bedroom at the house.”

  “You’re out of your fuckin’ mind.”

  “Why?”

  “Because everybody, and I do mean everybody, knows about you walking in on her naked in the locker room.”

  “She wasn’t naked.”

  “No?”

  “No. Just topless.”

  “Same difference.”

  “Everybody?”

  “Including Bart Casper and Vic Steele,” Dan said, pausing to drain his coffee.

  “Shit. Fuck. Damn. She’s already got plane tickets.” Matt’s appetite crashed and burned.

  “Your funeral. How do you think she’s gonna like sixty guys staring at her chest?”

  “And I told the guys she had a great rack,” Matt said, raking his hand through his hair.

&nb
sp; “Idiot! And now you want to bring her here? You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

  “I didn’t think.”

  “You never do when it comes to women.”

  “She’s really great, Dan.”

  “Not for long. After an hour with the players, she’ll run screaming from the stadium. And the house? They’re so raunchy. How many pornos do you guys have stacked up in the living room? She won’t last ten minutes.”

  “Shit.” Matt covered his eyes with his hand.

  “Not too late to get her a hotel room.”

  “Then, she’ll think I want to sleep with her.”

  “You do, don’t you?” Dan buttered a piece of toast.

  “Yeah, but that’s not why I invited her down.”

  “Hey, it’s me, Dan. Your best friend. Let’s be honest here.”

  Matt stared at his plate.

  “You don’t expect me to believe you weren’t hoping to get lucky?”

  “Okay, okay, yeah. I was hoping.”

  “You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. I know you, Matt.”

  “I wasn’t counting on it!” He raised his palm to his friend. “Shit. This whole thing is gonna be a disaster. It’ll be like she’s walking into a strip club.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Dan said, patting his buddy on the shoulder. “Just don’t leave her side and put her in a hotel. One night in the house with the guys, and she’ll have you arrested.”

  Matt forced down the rest of his food. Dan cleaned his plate, running his toast over it to sop up the remaining egg yolk.

  “Hey, look, maybe she’s the one. But it’s pretty early. How long was camp?”

  “Two weeks,” Matt said.

  “You can’t expect her to fall into bed with you after only two weeks.”

  “I don’t. I actually like her. And she gets baseball.”

  “That’s a change,” Dan said, polishing off his coffee. “When you find the right one, it’s awesome.” He gathered up his dirty dishes.

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah,” the pitcher replied, grabbing a coffee refill.

  “Is Holly still hiding from that gangster guy?” Matt asked.