Double Switch
Page 20
I’m curious how this amnesty, if it comes to pass, will affect baseball. For starters, La Loba will be put out of business. That news should make me happy. Instead, I feel a premature twinge of nostalgia for the Cuban mystique.
Around twelve-thirty, I’m thinking about turning off the TV when the intercom buzzes. I go over to the console on the wall, but I don’t recognize the woman on the screen. She has close-cropped brown hair, as short as mine, and a little diamond stud in one nostril. She’s wearing jeans and a San Jose Sharks T-shirt. It occurs to me that she may be a wayward Gamer Babe. A few of the Sharks rent apartments in this building during the hockey season, but this is September. Hockey doesn’t start up for over a month.
I push the button to talk. “Can I help you?”
“Adcock, let me in. It’s Tiff.” She peers up into the camera, and then I see it: the eyes, the curve of the face. She got me again—although I’m still not sure who she’s supposed to be.
A minute later, she’s standing in my living room.
“I’m free, can you believe it? We got a new judge, and he pressured the feds to deal. You’re treating the accused like a member of the Islamic State, he told them. She’s clearly no risk to society. You have a week to structure a plea or I’m dismissing the case.”
“You took a deal.”
“That’s right. I had to sell the plane to cover the legal bill, but I’m free. I’m flying commercial now. Do you know what they charge to check a bag? One bag! Someone could have warned me.”
“Did they make you quit styling?”
She nods. “Lifetime ban from all four major sports leagues. No contact allowed with active players, coaches, managers, or front-office personnel. I am allowed to offer advice for free, but only to amateurs. It’s a bitter pill. But the lawyers say it’s temporary.”
How is a lifetime ban temporary? I guess that’s what you get for a jet’s worth of lawyers.
“Can I ask you about Will Cunningham?”
Tiff smiles. “The Fizz…”
“You know he fizzled out, right? He was sent back to Triple-A.”
“I heard.” She sounds unbothered. “These things happen, right? Didn’t you get bounced a few times your rookie year?”
“Sure, but I never paid a consultant six figures to manage my look.”
“Six figures! Is that what he told you?”
“That’s what people say you get. Am I wrong?”
“My services are valuable, and my prices are fair.”
“Are they really? Will expected results, and now he’s back in the minors. How is that a good value?”
“Every client has different needs. The Fizz was a player with unquestionable talent who could not get his mind around the major-league game.”
“But how did you help him? I’m no stylist, but in my opinion you made him look worse, with the bleach job, the tacky tattoo, the jewelry….”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly what?”
“Will Cunningham needed a kick in the ass, and I gave it to him.”
“By making him look like a rapper’s ghost?”
“I was also considering a sort of spray-tanned Ken-doll look, but that could have been misinterpreted as a sincere mistake.”
“You wanted to make sure he’d be a laughingstock.”
“He had to fail badly. That was the only way to stir up his anger. Back in Triple-A he’s going to have a long dark night of the soul, or whatever you want to call it, and he’ll emerge with some kind of resolution. Either he’ll step up his game, or he’ll quit baseball altogether.”
“But what if he doesn’t see it that way? Isn’t it cruel to force this crisis on him?”
“Not really. It just hastens the inevitable. There are only two possible outcomes for Will Cunningham: either he is going to become a major-league player, or he’s not. I’m just making it happen faster.”
She walks to the window. It’s a clear night. In the distance you can see the twinkling lights of bridges over the bay.
“What are you going to do now?” I ask.
“Well, I took my niece’s advice and started a channel on YouTube.”
“Really?”
“Adcock! I don’t know what’s next. Honestly, I was hoping you could help me figure it out.” She walks toward me, pooching her lips like a pinup. Her breasts swell beneath the black-and-teal shark. I can’t tell if she’s serious.
“I don’t understand you, Tiff.”
“Of course you do. We’re two of a kind.”
“How do you figure?”
“We’re both exhausted, lonely, and banned from the work we love.”
She steps close and lets the back of her hand brush the front of my jeans. “There you go,” she says.
I’ve been on my best behavior since the shit went down in the skybox. Don’t get me wrong: I’m hungry for it, and Tiff showing up here so late at night is something of a gift. But there are strings attached, I’m sure.
“Who are you supposed to be?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“I feel like I don’t get the joke.”
“The joke?”
“Yeah, all this.” I point to the hair, the T-shirt. “First you were a field reporter, then you dressed up like Connie….The last time we saw each other, you were a suicide blonde with an electronic cigarette. What’s the costume this time?”
Tiff frowns. “This isn’t a costume, Johnny. This is me.”
Acknowledgments
I am deeply grateful to my editor, Rob Bloom, for his help with this manuscript and his ongoing enthusiasm for the Adcock series. Thank you, Rob, for pushing me to do my best work and for reminding me what a privilege it is to explore baseball through Adcock’s eyes.
Thanks also to my agent, Jennifer Carlson, who is nothing like Todd Ratkiss.
Thanks to my wife for never questioning what I do for a living, even when it takes the term “fantasy baseball” to a whole new level. And thanks to my kids, who still aren’t old enough to read this book.
Finally, thank you to the readers of this series. In a world where you can stream fifteen major-league games every night on your phone, you chose to read a novel about a relief pitcher on a made-up team. I started writing these books because I wanted to get closer to the game than TV could take me. I wanted to go beyond the postgame interviews, beyond the press conferences, into the hidden world of pro baseball. I didn’t know if anyone would join me there, but you did. Thanks for reading.
About the Author
T. T. MONDAY is the pseudonym of novelist Nick Taylor, author of The Disagreement and Father Junípero’s Confessor. Double Switch is his second novel to feature Johnny Adcock, after The Setup Man. Follow him on Twitter @ttmonday.
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