by Nikki Duvall
“That’s the thing, Honey,” said Catrina in her Texan drawl. “I’m not ready to leave anything alone just yet. J.D. lied to me. He owes me.”
“I doubt it…”
“See those two gents over there?” asked Catrina, pointing to the two chairs flanking her empty seat. “One of them works for the New York Times, the other is my attorney. I’m done talking with them. Now they’d like to talk to you.”
Halee fixed her eyes on Cat’s. Her skin crawled. “What are you up to?”
“Miss McCarthy?” Halee felt a hand on her back. “Ken Draves from the New York Times. May I ask you a few questions?”
Halee glanced at the undercover cop watching her closely two steps down. “No. I mean, I don’t know what Miss Hiett’s told you, but I’m sure it’s all lies.”
“Then you’ll be willing to give me your side of the story.”
“What story are you talking about?”
“What’s your relationship with Mr. Shaw?”
“J.D.? We’re friends.”
“Good friends,” said Cat. “Makin’ babies friends.”
Halee glared at her.
“Did J.D. Shaw sign a contract with the Federals knowing about his injury?”
“You’d have to ask Mr. Shaw,” said Halee, holding Cat’s eyes with hers. “I never read his contract. And I can guarantee you neither did Catrina Hiett.”
“But he is injured?”
“His shoulder is sore,” said Halee. “From what I hear, the whole team is sore by the end of the season.”
“Did J.D.’s problems begin before or after his contract with the Federals?”
Halee thought back to the North Shore Literacy fundraiser, how J.D. had cradled his shoulder at the event and again on Sam’s boat. “I don’t have the time perspective to make that judgment.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t know when the contract was signed.”
“When is the first time you knew he had a shoulder injury?”
“Why do I feel like I’m on the witness stand?”
“I suggest you prepare yourself, Miss McCarthy. You might likely be.”
“What’s your interest in this, Mr. Draves?” asked Halee. “This seems like an internal matter with the Federals, if it’s a matter at all.”
“Fraud is always interesting, don’t you think, Miss McCarthy?”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree. J.D. is the most honest man I know.”
Draves smiled. “Thank you for your time.”
~TWENTY-FOUR~
J.D. rolled through the front door of Halee’s apartment at half past five in the morning, drunker than a skunk. He slammed the door behind him, grabbed a blanket, and curled up on the white slipcovered sofa while Uncle Gus and Bobby said their goodbyes.
Bobby nudged J.D.’s foot. “See you back in Chitown. Win big.”
J.D. moaned.
Uncle Gus grimaced and turned a concerned look toward Halee. “You gonna be okay?”
“It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with a drunk,” said Halee with a sigh. “At least I like this one.”
Gus shook his head. “I left you the Glock. It’s under the mattress in the guest bedroom. No way Ty can find it.”
“Thanks, Uncle Gus.”
“You remember how to use it?’
“I think so.” She walked the two men to the door.
Bobby leaned over and picked up her morning paper, handing it back to her. “We expect to see you during off season,” he said. “Rita’s gonna mope till you come back to town.”
“Give her a hug for me,” said Halee. “Tell her to come visit me.”
Bobby headed for the elevator. Gus lagged behind. “You keep your eyes open for any trouble,” he warned her. “You call down to the lobby if anything doesn’t look right. There’s a whole posse of mean looking guys with shaved heads down there just waiting for some action.”
Halee leaned over and kissed Gus on the cheek. “I will.”
She watched the two men disappear onto the elevator, then closed the door behind her, latching and locking all available hardware. J.D. stirred.
She walked to the kitchen and opened the Times, bracing herself for what she might find there. Surely it was too soon for Draves to print his report…
But there it was, in big bold letters. “Shaw Tricks Feds into Bad Deal.” And worse, underneath the headline was a picture of J.D. surrounded by Federals players and a gaggle of women straight from the late night T.V. ads for phone sex. Halee could have looked the other way, except for the angle of the photograph which perfectly captured J.D.’s hand caressing the toned derriere of a bleached blonde beauty.
She lifted her gaze from the paper to the pathetic hulk of a man with his drunken face smashed deep into her perfect tapestry pillows and steeled herself for battle.
“You made the headlines, Honey,” she chirped cheerfully.
J.D. grunted.
She held the paper up so she could read out loud while observing his reaction. “Says here you lied to the Federals about your shoulder so you could get a major league contract. But that can’t be true, can it? J.D. Shaw never lies!”
J.D. removed one of the pillows from his face. “Now ain’t a good time, Halee,” he mumbled.
“Oh, really?” Halee approached. “Was last night a good time, J.D.?” she shouted. “Or should I say, was she a good time?” She slapped his head with the newspaper and let it fall to the floor.
J.D. picked up the paper and held it up to the light, trying to focus through bloodshot eyes. “Jesus…”
“Oh, he can’t help you now!” cried Halee. “Get off my sofa, J.D. Go crawl over to that love nest of yours across the way. Maybe Cat will take you back. You deserve each other.”
She turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Ty was in his playpen arranging all his stuffed animals in one corner and giving them each a stiff talking to. “You tell ‘em, Ty,” said Halee. “Don’t let them give you any grief.”
J.D. knocked on the door.
“Go away.”
“Halee, hear me out.”
“I’ve heard everything I need to hear.”
“Honey, let me explain.”
“I’ve heard all your lies, J.D.”
The hallway was silent for a moment. Then she heard a deep sigh. “Think I’ll sleep this one off,” he mumbled. His footsteps retreated down the hall and the apartment door shut softly behind him.
Halee sat on the edge of her bed and dropped her face into her hands. “Full circle, Ty, that’s where Mommy has come. We’re gonna be just fine,” she said through tear filled eyes. “We’ll be fine together.”
For once in her life, Halee would have welcomed a workday. At least with no choice but to engage in routine, she might be able to work through this frenetic tension and put some kind of order back into her life. But it was the weekend. That made her a free agent in more ways than one. So she did what any red blooded American woman fresh from a breakup would do. She began to clean house.
By noon the shine of the floors was enough to blind someone, the bathrooms were devoid of any germs and the laundry was not only washed and folded but perfectly pressed and ready for the coming week. She’d just pulled out a dusting cloth when her doorbell rang. Her heart leapt into her throat. “J.D.,” she said aloud on the way to the door, “I don’t want to see you…”
Dale, J.D.’s attorney, stood in the hallway flanked by two extra-large plainclothes cops looking borderline angry.
“You’re not supposed to open the door to anybody,” one of the cops admonished.
“You rang the bell.”
“That’s what a criminal would do. We can’t be responsible for you if you don’t follow the rules.”
“Mrs. Pryor is paying you more than you’d make on regular duty, right?”
“Right.”
“Then stop complaining.”
“I need to see you about the adoption,” said Dale with a
congratulatory smile.
Halee waved him in. She smiled at the cops and shut the door.
Dale walked over to the kitchen island and opened his briefcase. “She’s not going to fight you.”
“Who?”
“Chantrell. Her brother got whacked when he got off the plane in Chicago. She can’t afford the kid without his drug money. You got nothing else to worry about.”
Halee dropped into a soft chair and fought back the urge to cry.
“You don’t look happy.”
“She must be devastated.”
“These people live with death as the norm,” said Dale. “Anybody who knew Demarcus knew his life would be short.”
“I mean about Ty.”
Dale stared at her a moment. “You have to concentrate on what’s right for the kid, Halee. Ask J.D. what he saw when he went looking for him. She didn’t care about that kid.”
“A mother always cares.”
“You’ve led a sheltered life, my dear.” Dale grabbed a stack of papers from his briefcase and brought them over. “I need you and J.D. to sign these forms. The judge is granting you custody of Ty until a formal hearing can be scheduled. You’ll have to return to Chicago when we get a court date.”
Halee hesitated.
“What’s wrong now?”
“J.D.’s name is on these forms. He’s not the applicant, I am.”
“That’s not what he told me. He said he wanted to adopt Ty with you as a couple.”
“When did he tell you that?”
“The night you lost the baby.” Dale’s expression softened. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. My wife and I lost our first child, too. It’s tough.”
Halee hugged a pillow and stared at the floor. “Thanks.”
“I’ve known J.D. for a long time. I know who he is. The world sees a different J.D. but I know the real man behind the bullshit. He’s been faithful to you since the night at the literacy fundraiser- yeah, he told me all about it. You couldn’t ask for a better person. He’d do anything for his friends. He supports Faye, loves her like she’s the real deal. He’ll take care of you, stand by you no matter what.”
“You sound like a salesman.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Halee. This roller coaster ride he’s taking with you is affecting him. His shoulder is all but broke, Pryor’s all over his ass threatening to take back his sign on bonus if he doesn’t win the Series for her. Now the papers got wind of his injury and are calling it fraud. Pryor’s gonna amp up her revenge scheme. I know her type. Without the bonus, he doesn’t have the money to buy the ranch he grew up on. Did he tell you any of that?”
“No,” said Halee softly. “No, he was too busy taking care of me.”
Dale pushed the papers closer to Halee. “Here’s your chance to start all over.”
~TWENTY-FIVE~
J.D. stood in the private lounge at LaGuardia airport with the other Federals players, waiting for the company jet to take them to St. Louis for game three of the Series. His head felt like a Halloween pumpkin somebody had kicked down the road. His shoulder screamed twenty four seven now, no matter how much booze or how many pills he consumed. His chest was heavy with the realization that his professional life was at full count and his love life had just taken strike three. After Friday night’s loss to the Hawks, he’d relinquished his status as Federals Golden Boy. Now he wasn’t even on the list for the chance to redeem himself.
Victoria Pryor breezed through the waiting room in a red cashmere coat and alligator boots and stopped to glare at J.D.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in surgery.”
“I joined the Federals to finish the season. That’s what I intend to do. Give me another shot,” he said. “I can win this one.”
“You had your chance,” said Victoria. “We lost. Which means you lost. Our relationship is over.”
“The coach benched me in the second inning. I would have made that throw to home plate and you know it.”
Victoria studied him a moment. “Your shoulder is kaput. You’re no good to me now.”
“I’m still better than my replacement.”
Victoria tapped her toe and scanned the room, taking her time to evaluate the situation.
“I’ll cut you a deal,” said J.D.
“I’m through making deals with you.”
“Just hear me out.”
Victoria sighed and crossed her arms. She refused to look at him.
J.D. edged in closer and watched her defenses melt away. “We lose the Series, you don’t owe me a dime. No sign-on bonus, no salary, no second place winnings.”
Victoria flipped up her eyes with a look that offered more than a contract. J.D. braced himself, wondering whether her counter offer would involve bedtime activity. “And if we win?”
“We revert to the first contract. Sign-on, salary, World Series bonus. Five years no matter what. ”
Victoria bit her lip.
“Plus Marcus gets a raise.”
Victoria smiled slightly. She turned toward him and leaned in closer, more intimately than felt comfortable. “The papers are watching every move you make. I don’t go for scandal and neither does Art. The fiancé debacle was bad enough. If I didn’t have everything riding on you, I would have fired you over it. Now the Times is accusing you of fraud.” She leaned back and stared him straight in the eye. “My instincts tell me to cut you loose.”
J.D. shrugged. “I pegged you as a gambler. Guess I was wrong.”
Victoria turned away.
“I see you don’t want a World Series title.”
Victoria cringed visibly. “Guaranteed?” she asked with her back still toward him.
“There are no guarantees in life, Mrs. Pryor.”
She turned back to him and sized him up as if assessing her odds. “Don’t you ever, ever humiliate this organization again,” she hissed, taking one step forward. “This is your last chance. Now get your ass on that plane.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
Doc Smothers approached from behind, his brow furrowed. “You’re not planning on playing that boy, are you, Victoria?”
“He volunteered.”
“Well, consider that offer rescinded. I can’t take a chance on your star player injuring himself for life.”
“I’ve got a Series to win,” said Victoria, pushing past him.
“You’ve got a decade of Series to win. You play this card right, you’ll win every one of them.”
“Talmey can’t catch a ball and his batting average is hovering in the double digits.”
“Then play Callahan.”
“I need him at first.”
“Favier is sober and remorseful. He’ll do his duty.” Smothers stepped closer. “The team looks up to J.D. He’ll be the best coach you’ve got on the field tomorrow. If you don’t want to bench him for the full Series, just give him another day of rest. I’ll do what I can to get him ready for game four.”
Victoria hesitated.
“It’s the smartest thing you can do.”
“Alright,” she said finally. “But if we lose tomorrow, there will be no more deals. He’ll be back on the field. I don’t care how sore his arm is. I bought him to hit balls, not cheerlead.”
***
“Where’s Victoria?”
The front receptionist looked up from her fashion magazine and sized up Halee’s bad attitude. “In St. Louis. What are you doing here?”
“Somebody’s got to keep this organization running, Carla,” Halee mumbled, storming toward her office. She flipped on the light and tossed her briefcase onto the nearest chair, sinking into the tall leather one behind her desk with an audible sigh. After a solo limo drive into work she was feeling more than empty without J.D. and full of regret for what she’d said. So why wasn’t she in St. Louis? And when was this roller coaster ride with J.D. going to glide into the station?
She opened her email and read through the first dozen, all from the Chicago literacy
office. The temporary director had walked out, the messages said, after an argument with Carl over the air conditioning. Could Halee fly in for a few days and settle the issue?
Halee stared out over the New York skyline. J.D. wouldn’t be back for a week, enough time for her to clean up the mess in Chicago. Victoria was too preoccupied with the Series to even notice if she left New York. Family was just what she needed right now. Decision made.
“Mrs. Pryor called and left a message,” said Carla from her office doorway. “J.D.’s been pulled from game three.”
Halee frowned. “Now what?”
Carla shrugged. “No explanation. No way we’ll win the Series on this news.”
“He’s not the only player, Carla,” Halee scoffed. “The Federals won games long before J.D. ever joined the team.”
“It was different before J.D.,” said Carla. “Everybody kinda did their own thing, you know? They grandstanded every chance they got. This team finally has a leader. The other players look up to J.D. He’s got that kindness in him, you know? I mean, he can play the bad ass, for sure, but he’s just someone you want to follow. But you know that,” she said with a smile.
Halee shook her head. “I used to know it. Now I’m not so sure. J.D.’s a little bit unpredictable.”
“You can’t believe what these players go through.” Carla glanced behind her and lowered her voice. “Victoria Pryor is such a bitch. Did you read J.D.’s contract? How could she do something like that to him?”
“What do you mean?”
“His second contract. The one Victoria made him sign when he went looking for you.”
Halee frowned. “Not following.”
“Hold on a minute.” Carla disappeared, then returned with a signed document. “Read this.”
Halee glanced over the first page stating the original date of hire, sign on bonus and regular salary, then flipped to the next page. “Employee must play all post season games,” she read aloud, “…must win Series or forfeits sign on bonus…” She glanced up at Carla. “Are you kidding me?”
“So I guess he loses his bonus by not playing today. And now she wants to change his contract again.”
