by Beth Bolden
“I’m not that easy to ignore,” Jack said with an equally devious smile of his own.
Noah slapped him on the shoulder. “Then, go get ‘em, tiger.”
Toby was pacing in the media trailer, causing the structure to sway back and forth. Izzy put a steadying hand on the mirror she’d propped up with her laptop screen, and applied another swipe of powder. Despite her efforts, beads of sweat popped up almost instantly all along her hairline. She wanted to believe it was only because of the stuffy trailer, but she knew better. She, who almost never got rattled, was hand-tremblingly, stomach-heavingly nervous. And that had been before Toby had announced she’d be interviewing Noah Fox and Jack Bennett.
“Damn this heat,” she sighed. “It’s unnatural for it to be this warm in the winter.”
Toby swung his head her direction. “You clearly don’t understand what’s about to happen. It’s like throwing you to a piranha and you’re like…Nemo. It’s not going to be pretty. It’s going to be a bloodbath.”
Izzy sighed. “You’ve got to give me a little more credit than that,” she argued. “I can handle this guy.” That was what she did after all. Of course, if history repeated itself, she’d only be able to get a few words out of her uncooperative throat.
“Nobody handles Jack Bennett.”
“I will.”
“If it was that easy, someone would have done it before.”
But she just ignored Toby’s dire warnings and let the door slam behind her, walking over to the set that Toby had hastily erected next to the trailer. It consisted of a rickety backdrop, printed with the Pioneers and network logos, and a few slightly sturdier folding chairs. She could see the imprint in the grass where the chairs had initially been placed, and how they’d been moved slightly to add in a third. Taking a deep breath, she raised her chin and tried to project a confidence she was nowhere near feeling.
Noah Fox approached first, with Jack Bennett trailing behind him. Izzy wondered if they always traveled like that—Noah breaking the ground and Jack cleaning up behind him—but then Noah smiled and the sheer dazzling whiteness of his teeth rocked her back a little. He’s just handsome, she reminded herself, he’s like those beautiful flowers that mask something deeper, something darker. The trap just happens to be his innocuous-looking friend hiding behind him.
“I’m Noah Fox,” he said, stretching out a lean, well-muscled arm toward her. His skin was the exact shade of caramel that her mother had always drizzled on their vanilla ice cream in the summer. She wanted to lean down and take a bite to see if he tasted as good as he looked.
“Izzy Dalton. Thanks so much for agreeing to the interview.”
“I was honored to be selected,” he smiled down at her, his charm enclosing them until she knew she was supposed to feel like he was beside himself with the notion that she’d picked him. She barely had the time to think about just how good Noah Fox really was, before Jack sidled up next to his teammate.
“As was I,” Jack smiled, all innocence. “I knew you couldn’t stay away from me.”
There was no doubt about it. He cracked her composure without even trying. He wasn’t just a trap; he was going to be her kryptonite.
“Izzy Dalton reporting from Sarasota Florida, at the Portland Pioneers Spring Training facility. I’m here with Noah Fox, starting center fielder for the Pioneers, and Jack Bennett, starting second baseman. Thanks for joining me today.”
Jack had to give Izzy credit for how bravely she faced the camera, especially since he’d discovered she’d never done much on-camera work. The first hundred or so times that he’d come face-to-face with a camera, he’d froze, which pretty much explained all those inane interviews that he’d given. When you had no idea what to say, sometimes the worst possible bullshit came out of your mouth.
“Welcome to the Pioneers, Izzy.” Noah smiled, ladling the charm on thick, and Jack resisted the urge to elbow him hard in the ribs.
Her first few questions were all to Noah—about his College World Series title, how he felt about the upcoming season. Izzy was pretty stiff, but Foxy seemed to settle her down after a few minutes.
He’d expected her to take her time with Noah. After all, he was a great interview; he acted like he actually wanted to be here. It wasn’t any big surprise that Toby would pick Foxy for Izzy to break her teeth on. Instead, she switched her attention to him after only three questions, her focus narrowing in on him until he felt like the entire world was going to see him perspiring—every glorious bead of sweat in high definition.
“Jack,” she said coolly, though by this point he’d figured the wintry act was all a big lie. She wasn’t cold; inside, she was a volcano, and because he was inevitably masochistic, he wanted all that icy self possession to melt away. “What’s your goal for this team?”
“Hell, we’d love to have made the playoffs last year, me more than anyone,” he admitted, and for the first time, he could think about the collapse last year without his vision going all red and blurry with rage, “but good things are worth the wait. This year, we’re not only going to make the playoffs, we’re going to the World Series.” He paused, and was so strangely, innately comfortable, he couldn’t help poking a bit of fun at her. It wasn’t mean, he told himself, just…playful. Never mind that he wanted to play with her. The intelligence and spirit in her eyes challenged and intrigued him so much that he couldn’t seem to help himself. “You know,” he said conspiratorially, “that’s the Super Bowl of baseball.”
She froze in place, her expression nearly panicked, and then he watched as she forced herself to relax, molecule by molecule. He wanted to make her melt, and unearth the woman beneath the stiff facade until he discovered her real smile. “And how important is making your World Series debut with the Pioneers? Wouldn’t it be easier, don’t you think, to play for a team that’s been there before?”
“The Pioneers were my first-choice team and it was a great day when they picked me in the draft. Going with this team to the World Series is the only thing I think about,” he said, as if he could feel any differently. “A World Series is a World Series, but the Pioneers are near and dear to my heart.”
Her expression was a mask. “Have you heard the rumors about Ismael Butler moving the team to Las Vegas?”
Jack could feel everything inside of him still and then speed up rapidly, his heart beating so fast he was sure she could see it through his thin T-shirt. This was why he hated interviews; there was always a question that managed to work him up. This time she’d unearthed the one question that not only made him see red, but freaked him the fuck out.
“That’s crap,” he managed to croak out. “The team isn’t going anywhere.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” she said and he wanted to hate that she was the lightest, most relaxed at the moment she’d made him the most uncomfortable. “But Mr. Butler was in Vegas last week.”
But even though he’d just met her, hate wasn’t anywhere in the equation.
“Mr. Butler has a lot of business in Vegas,” Jack shot back.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Noah added with a hopeful voice and Jack wanted to smack him for not sounding more confident, but he supposed the damage was already done.
Deep down, Jack suspected that point of no return had already come and gone long ago, maybe even the moment he’d opened the door to the media trailer to find Toby, and had discovered Izzy instead.
CHAPTER FOUR
From: Isabel Dalton
To: Charlie Walker
Date: February 28, 2012 @ 7:31 PM
Subject: would you like some cheese with this wine?
Had my first interview today. Thanks for the tip, it really came in handy. Any more like that you can toss my way would be a huge help, because things couldn’t be going worse.
Izzy
Izzy watched the interview with Toby when it viewed the next evening as part of a series celebrating the return of Pioneers baseball.
“Celebration, my ass,” Toby muttered, cracking his knuckles loudly as the opening segment flashed across the screen.
“Hard to get excited before spring training is even over,” Izzy tried to point out, even though she had no idea what she was talking about—an occurrence that was becoming depressingly more frequent these days.
“We’ll see,” Toby said cryptically. “That bone you threw Bennett yesterday wasn’t a lie. I’ll bet you a hundred bucks ol’ Ismael was sniffing around locations in Vegas. There’s no real money in Portland, not until the team catches on.”
“You don’t think they still can?” In the back of her mind, Izzy saw Jack’s dismayed expression when she’d brought up even the possibility of the Pioneers moving to Las Vegas, though why she should care, Izzy wasn’t sure. The Pioneers weren’t really her team—they were her job. She’d learned enough about reporting to know her sanity depended on her ability to separate the two.
Toby shrugged, and she could tell he didn’t care at all. She felt another ill-advised pang of something for a man she didn’t even know. Or maybe it was for the boy he’d been and the realization that so much of what you dreamed of as a kid never happened. Jack had a chance—a one-in-a-million chance—to make good on that.
Charlie had emailed her about the rumors he’d heard, his message dovetailing almost perfectly with the chatter that Toby had picked up about Ismael Butler, the Pioneers’ owner, flying to Las Vegas, and they’d decided to include it in the interview. Remembering Jack’s face had Izzy suddenly rethinking her policy of going straight for the jugular for the first time in her career.
Charlie had started to sound old, Izzy had realized as she’d read his email. He’d begun to second guess himself. Maybe you shouldn’t be there, he’d written, and as she’d read the words, she’d realized that it was time to remind him of all the things he’d taught her over the years.
Toby turned up the television to nearly an uncomfortable decibel and Izzy tensed as she came on screen. She’d never been comfortable watching herself and nothing had changed.
I look okay, Izzy thought with relief. Of course, that didn’t mean Toby was going to say anything actually nice as he grimaced at her slightly awkward pauses between questions. Still, not bad for a first effort, she decided as she watched herself laugh with Noah Fox on-screen. Amazingly, she didn’t just look like she was pretending to have a good time—she actually was having a good time. She would give just about anything to be back there, instead of here, waiting for Toby to continue using her as a punching bag for his personal vendetta against the female sex.
“Hmmm,” Toby said, his attention completely glued to the television as she moved to Jack, asking him about his life before baseball, about his dreams for Portland and for the Pioneers. Right as she moved on to the question about Las Vegas, an electric spark shot up her back all the way to the top of her head, leaving every hair on her neck standing on end. There was something…something…in her eyes as she almost shyly offered him a sympathetic look. Something as he glanced back at her. Something she never would have even acknowledged existed if she hadn’t seen the evidence staring back at her.
She knew what Toby was going to say when he turned to her before he even said the words. She could see it herself, plain as day on the screen.
“You and Jack Bennett. I’d never thought I’d live to see the day where he’d show up, unannounced, to be interviewed. And like it.” Naturally, Toby said this as if it had nothing to do with her. Like maybe Jack Bennett hadn’t taken his medication that morning. Except she wasn’t stupid enough to actually believe it. Jack agreeing to the interview had everything to do with her.
“Is that unusual?” It was a stupid question; she knew better. But something seemed to have short circuited in her brain at the thought Jack Bennett had agreed to the interview just so he could talk to her again.
Toby just shot her a half-hearted glare.
“Does that mean I can interview him again?” The question came out without her even thinking about its implications. Remember, she reminded herself firmly, he’s a distraction you can’t possibly afford.
“Hell no,” Toby snorted. “That was a one-time shot.”
Izzy tried not to be disappointed. “Alright.”
“Let’s buckle down and talk about what we’re doing going forward,” Toby said, and Izzy diligently pulled out her iPad and opened her notes. “We’ve got to get you some more intro material so you don’t look so damn lost every time we have a team meeting,” he grumbled, and she instantly felt guilty for not studying harder. For being better. It was tough to remember to cut Toby some slack when he got frustrated with her general lack of knowledge, because sometimes he was so tough on her. But, she kept telling herself, that was the nature of the business. Sink or swim. And sinking just wasn’t an option.
“I’m trying.”
“Well, try harder,” Toby shot back. “It’s embarrassing to have to cover for you whenever something vaguely relevant to your job comes up.”
A week later, Izzy thought she might have imagined it all. She and Jack hadn’t even spoken once since the interview, and she stupidly had to keep reminding herself that this was good.
Spring training was in full swing and the Pioneers had started traveling to other stadiums up and down the Florida panhandle, playing games to hone their skills for the coming season. She’d traveled to some of them, but frustratingly, Toby had mostly kept her at the home stadium in Sarasota, studying incessant hours of game film so she’d be more familiar not only with the Pioneers, but with other teams.
Unfortunately, despite vaguely understanding the rules, there still seemed to be something fundamental about the game that she couldn’t seem to grasp, no matter how many epically boring tapes Toby made her sit through.
“Today I want you in the stands,” Toby barked at her, grasping a flimsy water bottle, the thin plastic crunching beneath his hands as he gulped down half its contents. “Get a feel for the fans, interview a few of them. Maybe we’ll do a feature opening day on the loyal fans that follow us to Florida.”
A week ago, she’d have jumped at the assignment. She would have believed it was an opportunity for her to establish her credentials at journalistic storytelling. But Toby was unflinchingly consistent. He was only trying to get her out of the way before she embarrassed him any more than she already had.
It took an enormous effort, but she gave him a sharp nod of agreement and watched him walk away. She hadn’t felt this way since she was eighteen years old and had very nearly flunked Freshman Bio.
An hour later, Izzy sat in the half-empty stands as the game began. Considering it was a Saturday, and it was the Pioneers’ home stadium in Florida, she was surprised to see how few people were there to cheer on the team.
Frustrated with her inability to match the terms on her note cards to the action happening on the field, Izzy decided to take a break midway through the third inning. Grabbing a soda from the one of the vendors, she returned to her seat with a renewed determination to comprehend the component she seemed to be missing.
Sipping on her Diet Coke, she turned to her right and nearly jumped out of her skin as a familiar pair of blue eyes stared back at her.
Jack Bennett wore an ancient-looking, sweat-stained Pioneers cap pulled low over his forehead and a devilish smirk.
Reeling from shock, Izzy’s fingers slipped on the condensation building on the cardboard cup and she tried grabbing it with her other hand, but it suffered the same fate. For a horrifying split second, she could see herself dumping a full cup of ice and soda all over Jack, but before the cup could fall completely from her grasp, he reached over and grasped it firmly in his hand.
“Saved, ye
t again. Thanks.” She couldn’t help the flush of embarrassment. Why did she have to be such a mess around him?
He offered the cup back to her, and this time, she was careful to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans before taking it gingerly in her hand. “I won’t even mention that you’re clumsy this time,” he said, as he chuckled under his breath. “Swear to God.”
“I’d appreciate it. Apparently, you’re the only person who ever catches me in the act.” She shyly glanced over again at his T-shirt and jeans, almost embarrassed to be caught staring at him, but after days of not seeing him, she couldn’t seem to look away. “You’re not playing today?”
He shook his head reluctantly. “Deep bruise from a ball hitting me in the thigh yesterday. I wanted to, though.”
She understood. Uselessness wasn’t an emotion she liked much either.
“I heard that about you. Apparently, you’re insane. Determined to play despite any injury.”
“Not gonna lie. I hate not playing.” Izzy could hear the strain in his voice, in the longing as he looked out from the stands to the green grassy field below.
“So, why are you hiding up here?” she finally asked, before an uncomfortable silence fell between them. “Aren’t you supposed to stay on the bench?”
He threw his head back and laughed, and for the first time, she didn’t feel self conscious at his amusement. Unlike when she misspoke in front of Toby, Jack had never laughed at her.
“I know,” she said, with a rueful smile. “I said that wrong, didn’t I?”
