by Beth Bolden
Izzy wondered if it would be a conflict of interest for her to confess to Pilar that she often had similar fantasies. Well, at least about the quitting part.
“That’s a beautiful story,” Izzy said, trying to quash the part of her that just wanted to commiserate. This wasn’t therapy; it was supposed to be an interview.
“What’s beautiful is the way the kids change and grow after being with these inspirational figures. And sometimes it’s not even inspiration they need, just someone to talk to who understands. So many of our athletes came from poor neighborhoods and didn’t have any family to help them out. Giving back gives them a sense of purpose, too.”
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t totally jealous of the passion in Pilar’s voice. Just finish the season, that little voice in Izzy’s head whispered, just finish the season and then you’ll go back to Seattle and Charlie and find your little niche of broadcast heaven.
She’d already given up on becoming a doctor; she couldn’t give up on this dream, too.
“Tell me what you’re doing with the Pioneers organization,” Izzy said.
“A number of players have mentorships with kids in Portland,” Pilar said, “and Hector goes to the OHSU children’s cancer ward whenever he can spare some time. Would you like details of the fundraiser we have upcoming?”
“I’d love that,” Izzy said, already deciding that she’d participate if only to make herself feel better, but deep down she knew monetary contributions even to a well-deserving charity weren’t going to turn her life around. Only she could do that. If only she knew what direction to turn it to.
“When are you going to air the spot?” Pilar asked, and Izzy forced her wandering mind to focus.
“I’ve got to run it by Toby first, but probably next week, during the home stand.”
“That’s wonderful, chica. Thank you so much for the publicity. We can always use it.”
“Anytime,” Izzy said with a genuine smile.
The crack of a bat distracted her, and she glanced out the window to see who’d started batting practice.
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Pilar asked, and Izzy glanced over in surprise to see that she’d stood up and joined her at the ledge overlooking the ballpark.
“Fascinating?”
“It’s such an odd sport. This hitting of balls and running around the bases. But there’s also something magical about it. The sound of a home run being hit. The crowd singing the seventh-inning stretch. Peanuts and hot dogs. The parks even have a certain smell to them.”
Izzy looked out over the field of pristine green grass to the intensely blue sky overhead. “It’s beginning to grow on me,” she admitted. “I didn’t understand the pull of it at first, but I guess it slowly wins you over, before you even realize it.”
“When I first met my husband, I didn’t know a thing about baseball, and didn’t want to. He’d volunteered for Sport Cares, and said he’d mentor two boys instead of one if I’d go on a date with him.”
Izzy couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “And you said yes?”
“I had to. We were just going national and we needed more volunteers. Most professional athletes have their own charity organizations that focus their efforts in the communities they play in. We needed him, and as I discovered, I did, too.”
Izzy thought of all the nights Jack had sat with her, coaching her, laughing with her, kissing her.
“He took me to the ballpark on our first date,” Pilar said, her faraway gaze suggesting she was reliving it now, in her own mind. “At first, I thought he was just plain crazy. But it was his way of telling me that this sky, this grass, this soil, this dust, it’s in his blood.”
“Did you ever learn to feel that way, Mrs. Richardson?” Izzy asked.
“Call me Pilar, chica, and yes, I did. Slowly at first, then suddenly, I couldn’t imagine myself anywhere else. I fell in love with baseball and with my husband together. They’re two halves of one whole.”
“An interesting thought,” Izzy observed.
Pilar turned and gave her a penetrating glance. “Baseball is a selfish mistress. She has a hold, you understand, and when a man opens a place next to her for you, it is not easily done. It means something.”
Izzy wondered if Pilar was trying to tell her something, and if it meant she had found out about her and Jack.
“The woman better be sure then, absolutely sure,” Izzy finally said, “before she accepts that place.”
Pilar gave a sharp nod of affirmation, turning her gaze back to the field that was beginning to fill with players.
“I’d better get ready for the game,” Izzy said, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Pilar could hear it through the thin material of her blouse. She couldn’t dare stay and wait for Pilar to confirm what she knew or didn’t know. Suddenly she wished that Jack weren’t at batting practice. She needed him to wrap those muscular arms around her and reassure her that all was still safe. They were safe.
“Remember what I said, and let me know when you will be airing the piece,” Pilar said with a bright smile, as if she hadn’t just been talking about men and baseball and its mysterious, quixotic pull.
“Of course,” Izzy said, gathering her notepad and pen, and giving Pilar a completely fake smile in response. And then she fled.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
From: Corey Rood
To: Isabel Dalton
Date: June 29, 2012 @ 6:46 AM
Subject: Jack Bennett
Ms. Dalton,
I wanted to check in with you on the status of the story we discussed two months ago. Yesterday I noticed that Jack Bennett is currently leading the All Star voting at his position. Obviously I am not an expert on the proper timing of these things, but this seems to be an ideal point to release the story. Please let me know what your timetable is.
Corey Rood
“I hate to admit it,” Izzy said, as Toby leaned back in his desk chair and perused the email she’d just forwarded to him. “But he’s right.”
Of course, Toby didn’t even bother to reply, which Izzy supposed was pretty par for the course at this point in their working relationship. If they even had something that could be termed a working relationship. Mostly, he barked orders at her, and lately hadn’t even bothered to contradict her when he didn’t agree. He’d just sit there like the chair in front of him was empty and her voice was merely a figment of his imagination. She’d stupidly believed that the worst he could possibly dish out was his patronizing sneer, but the silent treatment was even worse.
Ignoring the twinge of humiliation, Izzy spoke up again. “Sir?”
He was annoyed now, Izzy realized, as his gaze snapped to her. “I don’t understand why you persist in believing that your opinion is either solicited or right,” he said, and Izzy had to swallow the retort that despite his own opinion, she wasn’t an idiot.
Attending every game, she’d have to be blind to miss the fact that Jack’s star was rising. The number of Bennett jerseys she saw seemed to multiply at an exponential rate, and he drew the most attention of any player by far. Plus, there was the All Star voting that had been released yesterday, with him in the lead at second base. It was a huge coup for someone who hadn’t been all that well known before this year—and she knew exactly why it had happened. He’d been tearing it up at the plate and playing in the field with a drive and intensity that defied explanation. It seemed like every night he was being featured on ESPN’s “Web Gems” for some ridiculously impossible play, and his name was on the lips of every member of the sports media she talked to. Yet, Toby sat there and told her that striking now on the Corey Rood story wasn’t a given.
The only conclusion Izzy could draw was that he must think she was stupid beyond educating or really, saving. Co
nsidering how hard she’d worked to do everything he’d asked of her, that really stung. Unfairness bubbled up inside, and she was so sick of swallowing it all back again.
“No offense, but I do believe my assessment of the situation is accurate. Jack Bennett is a highly desirable commodity and we’re just sitting on a story about him that will go national if we ever decide to air it.”
Izzy offered up an unsaid apology to Jack, who she was pretty unashamedly using to make her point. If he’d acted like he gave even half a shit about this Corey Rood story in the last two months, she’d have pushed a fraction less for Toby to run it, but he hadn’t mentioned it once. She hadn’t asked him specifically, but Izzy figured his silence was about as good of a green light as she was going to get. Besides, it wasn’t really all that bad for him; sure, it made him look goofy and a little strange, but she believed with the right treatment, Corey Rood was going to look just as fanatically crazy.
Toby leaned back in his chair, considering her as if she was a bug under a magnifying glass and he just couldn’t wait to fry her under the next convenient ray of sunshine.
“There’s your problem. I don’t pay you to ‘assess,’ Dalton; I pay you to show up in front of the camera, give the boys at home something pretty to look at and then go home.”
Izzy tried telling herself that all this work she’d put in to understand baseball was now moot, and that she could stop trying so damn hard, but she liked learning, had liked the feeling she was, slowly but surely, making herself a better reporter. He was going to take that away from her, and she didn’t know how to stop him.
“I understand,” she choked out, hating the lie as it left her lips.
“Excellent. This is all so much better when you don’t fight me, Isabel. Now, as for the job you are responsible for…” He paused, opened one of his desk drawers and slid the paper he’d selected over the desk. She leaned forward and stared at the photograph he’d given her.
It was a stock CV photo, with the name “Tabitha King” inscribed on the top.
Izzy glanced up at her boss, and tried to keep her voice level. “She’s beautiful.”
It was a gross understatement. The woman in the photograph was undeniably gorgeous, with a heart-shaped face and a sweet smile that promised a lady in the office and a devil everywhere else. Her eyes were blue, her hair blonde, and she was pretty much the personification of every single one of Izzy’s nightmares.
“Just so you know how high the bar is.”
He didn’t have to say how far she was from meeting it; Izzy knew she could never compete with Tabitha on looks. She’d never wanted to. All she wanted was to use her brain to contribute something.
“You and I both know this is never going to happen if that’s what you want from me,” Izzy finally said, feeling herself die a little with each word. Each time she met with Toby, she thought she’d hit rock bottom, but it turned out the hole was deeper than she’d ever thought possible. “But I’m smart. I could be more than just window dressing. If you’d let me.”
Toby leaned forward now, clasping his meaty hands together on the desktop. “A sweet sentiment, but for the final time, Dalton, no.” His eyes bored into her, narrowed and dull, she realized. Dead. She definitely wasn’t the greatest reporter, but that alarm in her head was dinging as she stared into Toby’s empty eyes.
“What do you want me to tell Corey Rood, then?”
“Keep stringing him along. He might be pissed, but he wants the story on air bad enough that he’ll deal with it.”
He’d picked up the picture she’d slid back toward him and was absorbed in studying it, his gaze rapacious and possessive. Barely holding back a shudder, Izzy slid to the edge of her chair, hoping their meeting was finally over.
“Is there anything else?” she asked, but Toby just gave her an absentminded shrug.
He could barely tear his eyes away from the damn picture, Izzy realized as she stood up, and wasn’t that just the creepy icing on the cake of this god-awful meeting?
While she’d been in the meeting from hell, Jack had texted her, and as Izzy opened the message, she felt a tiny thrill of excitement that he’d sent it despite knowing she’d be with Toby. It was horribly reckless, she knew, but somehow, also horribly exciting. Maybe if Toby wasn’t such a prick, she wouldn’t feel so good about deceiving him right under his nose.
Dinner. The bench. 7 PM. Bring beer.
She smiled, and started to text him back as she walked through the hallways to the exit.
“Izzy?” She glanced up and saw Pilar Richardson heading her way.
“Looks like you’re on your way out. I’m glad I caught you,” Pilar said with a frank smile.
Izzy slid her phone into her bag. The last thing Pilar needed to see was her confirming a date with Jack. “I was. What’s up?”
“Next week, Sport Cares is sponsoring a trip to Doernbecher Children’s Hospital, to their cancer ward. Hector is coming. Would you be interested?”
She froze. She hated hospitals, the antiseptic smell and their cold white walls, and that was only one reason she’d switched her major from pre-med to journalism.
“Also, I thought it would be a good time to ask a player to join us. Do you think you could suggest it to him?” Pilar asked with a conspiratorial smile.
Izzy wanted to believe there was nothing but charity in Pilar’s heart, but there was a knowing edge to her voice. “Um, I don’t know any of them all that well. Wouldn’t it be better coming from you? You are their manager’s wife.”
“Exactly. I don’t want them to come because they feel obligated to say yes. This is about recruiting them long term for Sport Cares.”
Panic was welling up inside of her, but Izzy kept the easy smile on her face through sheer force of will. “I’ll do what I can, of course. Who did you have in mind?”
“Jack Bennett.”
Even though she’d known it was coming, Izzy still barely kept her expression in place. There was no possibility that Pilar continued to be in the dark. It was all just a little too convenient.
“An interesting choice. Why Jack?
“He doesn’t have his own charity,” Pilar replied sweetly. “It’s so much easier to secure an athlete’s endorsement if they aren’t already occupied with their own organization.”
“Right,” Izzy said, and she had to give Pilar a lot of credit. This all seemed perfectly legitimate, but there was definitely something in her innocent smile that told an entirely different story. And that story made it impossible to say no, hospital or no hospital.
“So you’ll talk to him?”
Unfortunately, Izzy didn’t have a lot of choice, and Pilar knew it. She’d neatly boxed Izzy into a corner, and she couldn’t back out of it without throwing more suspicion onto herself. “Of course. I’d be happy to,” she lied.
“I knew you were the right girl for the job,” Pilar replied with a knowing smile.
“Always glad to help.” Izzy could only hope that Pilar’s gratitude would be enough to keep her silent.
It was the right thing to do to tell Jack that Pilar had somehow discovered their secret, but as they sat together on the bench watching the sunset and sharing a pizza, Izzy remembered that right didn’t always equal easy.
She picked at the slice of pizza in her hand, halfheartedly snagging a piece of pepperoni and flipping it into her mouth. Jack was going to notice something was up any minute now, considering that since her conversation with Pilar, her appetite had seriously gone on the fritz.
“Bad meeting?” he asked, nudging her knee with his. “What did Toby say this time?”
“Nothing, really. It wasn’t bad.” That was not exactly true, but despite the fact that Pilar was about a million times nicer than Toby, it was the former, not the latter, that was on her mind.
“You�
�re not eating,” Jack stated matter-of-factly. “In my experience, when you’re not eating, there’s something wrong. And that something is usually Toby.”
Izzy glanced up at Jack’s concerned expression, his blue eyes gazing intently at her face, as if her fine-ness was all he cared about. Though he’d never come out and actually said that it was, she thought he probably believed that was the case, and the fact that she couldn’t say a simple thing like “Pilar knows we’re involved, and she’s probably going to tell her husband, who just happens to be your boss,” made her feel like the worst person in the world.
He would definitely tell her, she knew. He would’ve called her on his way over, not wasting a single moment. And how did she repay his loyalty and his unspoken devotion? She clammed up and couldn’t bring herself to say a word.
“Actually, it was more of an interesting meeting than anything else. He showed this picture of Tabitha King and practically waxed rhapsodic about how beautiful she was.” Izzy paused, nudging a stick with her toe, not meeting his eyes because she couldn’t really—not when she was deliberately not telling him the truth. “And she really is.”
Jack’s face settled into hard lines. “Why was he talking about Tabitha?”
Izzy shrugged. “Why does Toby do anything? As far as I can tell, he left the rational part of his career behind a good ten years ago.”
