Come Back to the Ballpark, Maisy Gray

by Cynthia Tennent

  “Nooooooo,” the students answered loudly. Charlie Zumaeta didn’t hear the innuendo of boredom, which was just fine.

  “Now, you know all about the Turbos and the way their season has been going, right? You kids like the Turbos?” Cheers erupted. “We have a great team, that’s for sure. Kevin Halderman was here yesterday. And today we have some guys from the front office. They can’t throw or hit a ball, but they know how use a computer and create lots of paperwork. Ha! Wave to the kids, Sam and the rest of you!”

  Sam and two others next to him waved grudgingly. Behind Maisy, Anthony told his friends, “That guy, Sam, he actually plays pretty good for an old guy. He was out on the field yesterday.”

  Good for Anthony! She was going to make him his favorite Nutella and banana sandwich next chance she had.

  “Now, we got really lucky this year when one of your own teachers came to Indianapolis and paid us a visit.”

  Heads turned Maisy’s way. She sat back in her chair and glued her smile to her face.

  Zoom continued. “Having Miss Gray in our stadium turned the tide. She’s become our little good-luck charm! Where are you, Miss Gray? There you are! Come on up here and join me.”

  Maisy almost wished she’d never accepted Zoom’s fake offer for school supplies from Sam. Then again, she would never have gotten to know Sam if she hadn’t taken the donation. And the school needed it. She stood up and straightened her shoulders. The sooner she smiled and took the check from Zoom, the sooner they could all get back to normal. Well, the new normal.

  When Maisy arrived at the front of the gym, Zoom opened his arms and wrapped her in a bear hug that perked up the photographers. Bulbs flashed and a man with a video camera moved closer. She recognized the logo of a news station in Indianapolis. The kids clapped eagerly, leaning in and waving to make the video reel.

  When he released her, Zoom signaled for the prop that leaned against the wall. A very large check.

  “I hear there are some things you need here at…” He turned to Maisy and lowered his voice a fraction. “What is the name of this school again?”

  Behind them Dr. Harding whispered, “Joy Elementary School.”

  “Oh, yeah, of course. See how old I am? Can’t remember sh—” Maisy gave him a soft elbow in the ribs. “—stuff. Joy Elementary School. Ha!”

  Maisy was afraid to look at Sam’s face. If she did, she’d either laugh or cry. This was humiliating and funny at the same time.

  Zoom held it in front of him. “So, Miss Gray and students of…Joy, before I give this check to Miss Gray and your principal, I have another request to make of you.”

  Maisy’s body tensed. This was not in the plan. No more deals or requests of any sort. She wanted a check and a path back to her chair. Nothing else. Well, maybe Sam. She wanted more of him. That was sorted in her mind as a to-be-continued issue.

  “So, this is going to be great for you and your school.” Zoom waved the check so wildly Maisy stepped back to avoid getting hit. “But this is just back-to-school supplies for you. That means books and pencils and paper, right?”

  It was more complicated than that. There were special supplies like calculators and dictionaries and highlighters. It wasn’t worth it to explain that some of these kids didn’t have access to simple things like organizers and backpacks. While school supplies weren’t exactly exciting, they were greatly appreciated, even by the kids.

  Zoom continued. “I saw your playground and your baseball field when I drove in this morning, and it occurred to me that they’re a little run-down. I wonder if you’d like some of those new climbing jungle gyms with nets and swirly things that look like castles and forts?”

  Maisy tapped her foot wildly. She didn’t like where this was going. Most of the kids were on their knees now. Her fellow teachers weren’t doing a thing about it because they were just as excited.

  “The Turbos are getting close to clinching the pennant. All we need is a few more wins and we’ve got it. But we need a little help from Miss Gray here. What do you say we both get what we need, gang? You receive a new playground and playing field and we get our good-luck charm to a game?”

  So, this was the tactic. The kids. Maisy should have guessed.

  The gym erupted in cheers. Cameras flashed. Zoom smugly tried to hand her the check. She didn’t take it. Dr. Harding nervously grabbed it.

  No one even questioned whether Maisy was going to agree. How could she refuse her own school such a wonderful gift? The kids deserved a better playground than the shabby, worn-down, half-broken play structure they were currently using. And a field, with new sports equipment, that would be amazing. All she had to do was relive her biggest mistake. Again.

  A strange numbness enveloped Maisy as she pictured herself waving to Kevin and smiling at the crowd. Once more, she could be the cute little sidekick. The lucky charm. What a wonderful example she was to little girls everywhere. You can’t play the game, but you can smile in the stands and be the cheerleader with the magic touch. Ugh.

  Where would it stop? Was she chained to the Turbos for the rest of her life because of some stupid superstitious nonsense?

  It took her a minute to realize Zoom was still talking. Oddly, his lips were moving, but there was little sound coming out. He spoke up and tapped on the microphone. “Hey, is this thing working?”

  Dr. Harding was busy trying to calm down a group of students who had started a happy dance. No one but Maisy heard him.

  She shrugged. “Must be broken.”

  Zoom gave up. “Maybe I should get you a new PA system while I’m at it.”

  Maisy raised her chin and prepared to break her kids’ hearts. “Charlie, I’m not going to the game.”

  He cupped a hand to his ear. “What’s that?”

  “I am not going to the game. I can’t help you win.”

  He thought she was being humble. “Aww now, Maisy, you don’t give yourself enough credit. Of course your presence at the game matters. This is a win-win for everyone!”

  Zoom stepped toward the front row of kindergarten students and gave them a high five. He posed for a picture. The large check in his hands practically blocked the kids.

  Sam was nowhere to be seen. Dr. Harding came forward and posed for pictures.

  “This is a mistake,” Maisy explained.

  No one was listening to her. Maisy started to walk away, but Zoom snaked a hand around her shoulders. “Get another picture of our lucky charm.”

  ***

  Sam handed Anthony a twenty-dollar bill. “Thanks. And just a reminder, this is between you and me.”

  Anthony pocketed the twenty. “I don’t get it. Why did you want me to pull the plug on the microphone?”

  “It’s complicated. Let’s just say, it’s a favor for Miss Gray.”

  “Is it about that donut guy? ‘Cause I can tell Miss Gray doesn’t like him.”

  “No, she does not,” Sam said, impressed with the kid’s assessment. “Do you know why?”

  “Duh. He thinks he’s some kind of king. He’s bossy like one, too.”

  Sam held out his hand. “Call me when you get older, kid. I’ll give you a job someday.”

  Even though Sam felt guilty for corrupting a kid, there had been no other way. And it wasn’t really corrupting if they were doing the right thing. Zoom was the corruption in this case.

  When Zoom attempted his devil’s bargain with Maisy, Sam had been so angry he was prepared to crawl over three classes of first graders to get to Zoom at the front of the gym.

  Then he’d seen the microphone cord snaked along the side of the gym toward the back where the reporters were standing. To reach it required crawling under a table the reporters were using for their equipment. Anthony was in the perfect position. He’d whispered his request to Anthony. Without questioning him, the kid had slid down on the floor and done the job. P
erfectly.

  Anthony held up the twenty. “I woulda done it for free. I’d do anything for Miss Gray.”

  “Yeah. Me, too,” Sam whispered.

  Anthony ran to catch up with his class that was starting to leave the gym.

  Sam drew a deep, steadying breath and started toward Maisy. Zoom gripped her for a photo op and she looked ready to rip the damn check in half.

  Heather stopped him. “She’s barely hanging on.”

  “She’s not the only one.”

  “I think she’s going to rip that check in half.”

  “If she doesn’t, I will.”

  Heather seemed to approve of his answer. She tapped his shoulder with her fist. “Go get ’em.”

  Sam cut through the photographers and made his way toward Maisy, fresh and beautiful in a yellow cotton dress. It was a contrast to Zoom in his ridiculous purple suit and green striped tie.

  Zoom spotted him. “Hey, there you are, Sam. Join the photo.”

  Sam ignored him. He blocked Maisy from the crowd and lowered his mouth to her ear. “You don’t have to do this.”

  She looked up, her lips pressed tightly together, and shook her head. Why would she believe him? Sam should have anticipated this. It was his fault.

  What was it she had said last night? Three strikes and he was out?

  “Hey, Hunter, you’re blocking Maisy. Either turn around or get out of the picture.” Zoom thought he was being funny. Sam wanted to deck him.

  Sam turned toward the cameras, still blocking Maisy. “That’s enough for today. We’re done.”

  Zoom protested. “What are you talking about? We still haven’t taken pictures out on the playground.”

  Lowering his voice, Sam said, “There isn’t going to be a playground, Zoom. Not from the Turbos.”

  Zoom’s eyes grew dark. Not only was Sam opposing him, but he’d failed to call him Mr. Zumaeta. A double first. “What are you talking about, Hunter? Of course the Turbos will build these kids a playground.”

  “No, we won’t. Not this way.”

  Zoom looked back and forth between Sam and the reporters, who were paying acute attention to the exchange. Sam didn’t even care.

  “You got something else up your sleeve, Sam? You want to build a whole new school or something?” Zoom joked nervously.

  “The truth is you surprised me with that offer, Zoom.” Sam swallowed past the bitter taste on his tongue. They were both acting for the press now. “The discretionary budget you provide me is tight. It wouldn’t be right to invite Miss Gray to the ballpark in exchange for a whole new playground, as nice as that would be, without discussing this with our financial department. That’s not how we operate. We run a fiscally responsible organization for our fans.”

  Dr. Harding hugged the check, looking like she might cry.

  “We’ll find a way to help the kids get a playground,” he assured her. “But not this way.”

  Zoom’s face was turning red. “Who the hell is in charge here, Hunter? Last time I checked, I was the owner of the Turbos.”

  Sam met his gaze with steel. “And you made me the general manager.” Cheap Charlie could always pay for it himself. But he wouldn’t.

  From the corner of his eye, Sam glimpsed the guy from sports radio holding his microphone their way. Talk radio was going to a have a field day with this. No doubt he was going to be blamed for screwing things up with Maisy. Whatever. The Turbos and their pennant could go to hell for all Sam cared. He would rather see the team finish last this year than watch Maisy waving to the crowd and pretending she didn’t care that she was being blackmailed for a swing set.

  Zoom grabbed Sam by the arm and twisted him around to face him. He raised his voice. “You may be the manager now, but that can change very quickly.”

  Someone gasped nearby.

  “I have a contract until the end of this year. Unless you’re firing me right now, I intend to keep doing my job as I see fit.”

  Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he was fired on the spot.

  “Maybe you two should take this someplace private,” Dr. Harding scolded, as if they were fifth-grade boys who’d just rolled in dirt.

  Suddenly aware they had an audience, Zoom smiled at the curious reporters as if nothing had happened. “Aww, we’re all right. This happens all the time between us, right, Sam? We’ll get back to Indy and check those bank accounts. I’m sure we can smooth this out.”

  Sam said nothing. He turned to tell Maisy not to worry, but she was gone. He spotted her in the back of the gym, directing her class out the doorway.

  He should follow her and explain that he’d had no idea what Zoom had planned for the assembly. But he changed his mind. Why would Maisy talk to him? Once again, she was being railroaded into doing something she didn’t want to do.

  The best thing right now was damage control. He needed to get to his financial department and maybe even his legal department. Maisy was not going to be blackmailed to come back to the ball game.

  Sam had no way of knowing that his day was about to get a hell of a lot worse.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Three hours later, Sam entered a deserted Turbos front office. Phones rang unanswered. Desks sat empty. Fax machines buzzed.

  Down the hallway, a television was on full volume. Sam marched toward the break room, ready to remind his staff that work came before The Housewives of Atlanta.

  “What the hell is going on?” he asked from the doorway.

  A dozen people shot past him, alarm on their faces. The rest of the room cleared a path as he moved to get a better view of whatever world event was making his staff look like they might need a raft and a life vest.

  On the screen, Fuzzy sat at his desk, his face grim, arms crossed tightly in front of him. He spoke in a clipped tone. “These are ballplayers. They do what they have to do to win a game.”

  “But Fuzzy, don’t you think this pushes the limit?” someone asked off-camera.

  “I’ve seen worse.” Fuzzy slowly removed his cap and smoothed his hair off his forehead. The set of his jaw told Sam this was bad.

  Sam shifted into damage-control mode. He ran through the list of the latest measures other managers were using to combat the substance abuse problems in the league. He ticked off the names on his legal counsel he’d have to notify. They would help him navigate the messy process of suspending a player or getting him into counseling and rehab.

  If any of his players were harassing or abusing a woman, no counseling. They were out.

  Another reporter pushed his microphone in Fuzzy’s face. “But this isn’t just one or two players, Fuzzy. Rumor is it involves the whole team.”

  Sam ran a hand through his hair. He needed to get down to the clubhouse before the team issued any public statements. Fuzzy knew better than to keep talking.

  “We don’t know how many are involved,” Fuzzy said.

  In their last conversation, Fuzzy had said there was something odd going around the clubhouse. Had Sam really told Fuzzy he didn’t want to know?

  Sam spied Tristan cowering by the coffeemaker. He had been spending a lot of time in the field house lately, talking to Blake Alokar and watching the batting practice. He had to know what was going on.

  “Staub!” Sam yelled.

  Tristan jumped to attention. “Honestly, Sam, I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

  The remaining employees slipped out of the room.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Sam grabbed Tristan’s collar and pulled him close. “I am not protecting you, do you hear? The police are going to be given full consent to investigate this. No cover-ups.”

  Tristan’s eyes grew wide. “Police, Sam! It’s not illegal.”

  “In which state? You’re coming down to the clubhouse with me right now.”

  Joanie was suddenly between them.
“Sam, please. Just give him a chance to explain.”

  “Okay. Explain.” Sam pointed Tristan toward the elevator and Joanie followed close behind.

  “This isn’t that bad, really, Sam.” Tristan was as pale as a ghost.

  “Tell me. Is it drugs or domestic abuse?” Sam asked as the elevators descended to the clubhouse level.

  Tristan did a double take. For the first time, his eyes met Sam’s. “You think—”

  “It’s not what I think that matters in the end. It’s what the law thinks.”

  The elevator opened, and Sam ushered him toward Fuzzy’s office. A security guard stood by the entrance to the clubhouse, looking unsure of his role in the circus side show that had erupted.

  Sam waved to the exit behind him and said, “I want you and the other security guards to clear these guys out of here.”

  Without waiting for a response, Sam pushed through the overflow of reporters that spilled out of Fuzzy’s office.

  Cameras turned his way and someone shouted, “Mr. Hunter, care to tell us what you think?”

  Sam put his hand out. “We’ll get back to you after we’ve done a full review of the situation.”

  Luther McLean was at the front of the crowd, leaning over Fuzzy’s desk with a microphone.

  “Even you, Luther, out!” Sam said when he reached him.

  “But—”

  He shook his head. “No comment.”

  “What about Miss Gray?” Luther asked.

  That stopped Sam in his tracks. “Don’t you dare link her to this.” Sam raised a fist and would have punched Luther if Tristan hadn’t grabbed his arm from behind.

  The veteran reporter spoke into his microphone. “As their good-luck charm, she’s been at the center of this from the very beginning.”

  Sam pulled against Tristan, who was doing his best to separate him from Luther. He covered Luther’s microphone with his free hand. “Miss Gray is innocent. She has nothing to do with the Turbos.”

  Luther wasn’t backing down. “I think Maisy Gray is the whole reason this is happening. Don’t you? We should discuss her impact on the team this season.”