Hurricane Heat

by Steven Barwin

  I was disappointed not to be called up first. Charlie warmed up, and Davis looked at me.

  “So you’re from Arizona,” he said.

  I wondered if this was a trick question. “Yeah.”

  “Don’t take anything personally. Especially from Charlie. It’s just that we all want our game time. How else will the scouts see us?”

  “That makes sense.”

  “We’re on the same team, but we hope for each other to screw up,” said Davis.

  “I appreciate the heads-up.” While I had Davis talking, I asked, “Why does the coach call me Mr. T?”

  “He’s only going to learn your name if he’s sure you’re going to stick around.”

  “Got it.”

  The crowd roared. A Raiders player had hit a double off the left-field wall. Then a bunt put a player on first and third. Charlie had no choice but to walk the next hitter to load up the bases and force a possible out at each base. Ethan and Coach Robert circled the mound.

  Davis said, “You’re lucky.”

  “Why?”

  He pointed to Coach Robert, who was signaling me, and then to home plate. “Next batter up is a lefty.”

  On the mound, Coach Robert said to me, “Just do me one favor. All we need is one out, so don’t walk him. If we lose, I want it to be square.”

  With Ethan’s glove outstretched behind home plate and the Raiders hitter ready to go, I released a fastball as hard as I could. The hitter swung for the fences, but my ball beat him and punched into Ethan’s glove. He made contact on my second pitch, but it drifted foul past third base. It was two and oh, and I was way ahead in the count. Ethan stood and approached me. I put my glove over my mouth and asked him if I had done anything wrong.

  “No, I just want to stall. You’re on fire against the best batter in the league.”

  “He’s the best?”

  “Okay. Shouldn’t have said anything. I say we finish him off with another fastball.”

  I nodded. “Hey, guess what? I found out where Amanda’s dad used to work.”

  “Can we focus here?”

  “I’m standing in the middle of a stadium filled with a crowd that’s hoping I mess this game up. Talking about Amanda helps to take my mind off that.”

  “Okay. Where does her dad work?”

  “Well, the problem is, I don’t think he works there anymore. It’s a place called Two Oceans Tech.”

  “Yeah, they work on sailboat technology.”

  “You’ve heard of them?”

  “Hey, look around. They sponsor our league!”

  I spotted a banner with the company name on it. “You’re kidding me.”

  “They’re one of the biggest companies in Hermosa. Who do you think is helping to pay for our hotel for the baseball tournament?”

  Behind us, the umpire called, “Do you want a delay-of-game penalty?” The crowd booed in support.

  “Where’s the tournament?” I asked.

  “Riverside. About an hour away. Hey, I know a guy that works for Two Oceans Tech. He’s the biggest baseball fan ever. I’ll take you there on Monday, if you pitch a strike.”

  Fingers in position on the ball, I started my windup, said a quick and silent prayer and released it. The ball sliced through the air and caught the tip of the bat as it moved over the plate. The ball reached Ethan’s glove on target, and I sighed in relief. The Hurricanes cleared the bench, and Raiders fans poured out of their stadium seats.

  In the tangle of players, Charlie found me. “You got lucky, new guy.”

  I smiled and raised my arms. I wasn’t going to let anyone ruin this moment.

  chapter ten

  Monday morning arrived, and I was up and out of the house early. I walked to the Hermosa Beach Pier. The morning sunrise was worthy of being computer wallpaper. The scene looked eerily similar to the postcard Amanda had sent. I reached the end of the pier and lost myself in the sun’s glow. I had a good feeling that I’d find Amanda’s adoptive father. A choppy wind pushed against my face, but I didn’t mind. I wondered if my sister ever walked this pier and thought about me. What had motivated her to send me a blank postcard? I had more questions than answers. I had no way of proving the postcard was from her and that she even wanted me to track her down. I watched the waves break in a predictable pattern. By the time I turned to leave, I wasn’t alone. Several people were fishing, their baited poles resting on the railing.

  I watched a group of surfers wax their boards and head out into the surf as I waited for the restaurants and stores to open. I looked for Jessie but didn’t spot her. No surprises there. Ethan texted me just after nine and picked me up at the base of the pier.

  As he drove, he did a pitch-by-pitch breakdown of how great I had done the night before. The coach, according to Ethan, was looking forward to me pitching a lot more during the tourney. Ethan said I should be pumped because it was an event that college scouts attended. Then he threw a curveball at me. “So have you told Jessie how much you’re into her?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Come on. I know how much you like her. I can tell by the way you look at her.”

  I couldn’t deny the obvious. “It’s just a crush.”

  “So ask her to hang out one night after work.”

  “I can’t. Without her, I wouldn’t be this close to finding Amanda. I don’t want to blow the friendship.”

  Ethan nodded as he pulled up in front of a modern, five-story glass building. “I’m just saying, if you like her, then make your move. The summer’s short, and so is your time in southern Cal.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I followed Ethan inside. We took the elevator to the top floor, and a receptionist directed us to Mr. Perry’s large corner office. A tanned man in pressed jeans and a white golf shirt reached out his hand. “Got to say I was surprised when I was told the great Hermosa Hurricanes catcher wanted to see me. How’re you doing?” he asked.

  “Excellent. Thanks for seeing us without an appointment, Mr. Perry.”

  He directed us to two large chairs. “Call me Kevin, and I’ve always got time for my favorite team.”

  “This is Travis. He’s new to the team,” Ethan said.

  Kevin shook my hand firmly. “Tell you, the only thing in life I didn’t get was a son. God knows we tried. Four girls—can you believe it?”

  I shook my head like I knew what he was talking about. Last time I looked, girls played baseball too.

  “So what’re your coordinates on the old diamond?” he asked.

  I looked at him, trying to decode what he was asking.

  “You know—your four-one-one?” he said.

  Ethan stepped in for me. “He’s an incredible pitcher. A southpaw.”

  “Fantastic. We haven’t had a lefty since Rodriguez.”

  I nodded along with Ethan, trying to fit in. I scanned the office. There was baseball memorabilia everywhere, including a series of balls encased in glass.

  He picked up one of the glass boxes and brought it to me. “I see you’ve spotted my gems. That one is from 2009. Probably just an ordinary night for you. But I was in the Bronx. It was game six of the World Series, and the Yankees were battling it out against the Philadelphia Phillies. Yankee stadium was alive. Next to my girls coming into the world, it was the greatest night of my life. The veteran left-hander Andy Pettitte was unstoppable. But the real pin-striped star was Hideki Matsui. He led the offense with a home run, double, single and six runs batted in. He was the first Japanese-born major-leaguer to win a Most Valuable Player award.” He handed the baseball to me. “You’re looking at his signature from that night.”

  I examined the ball. “You met him?”

  “We didn’t have coffee or anything, but several of us were introduced to him.” He placed the ball carefully back in its spot. “So, you guys pumped for the big baseball weekender?”

  Ethan gave him an update on the season so far, including the details of our win against the Raiders.

  When Kevin star
ted tapping his fingers on his desk, I knew we’d eaten up as much of his valuable time as he was willing to give.

  I sat up in my chair. “So, Ethan brought me here because I thought you might be able to help me.”

  “Uh-huh. Look, it’s been awhile since I threw a pitch.” He laughed at his own joke.

  “Travis is looking for his sister, who he hasn’t seen in a long time,” said Ethan.

  Kevin looked confused.

  “Her name’s Amanda Miller,” I said.

  “A Bob Miller used to work here,” said Kevin.

  “You know him?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he had big dreams, quit his job. He started his own company about two months ago.”

  I wanted to stand up and jump out the large window. “Do you know where I might find him?” I asked.

  “If I remember correctly, he left Hermosa for…” Kevin looked up at the ceiling, as if the answer was written there. “San Diego.”

  I looked at Ethan and thought about moving to San Diego.

  “What about a new address?” Ethan asked.

  “I can check. But it’s not likely.”

  I stood. “Thank you for the help.”

  “Not a problem. Let me walk you boys out.”

  On the way to the elevator, Kevin joked that at least Bob hadn’t moved to Australia. Then he turned the conversation back to baseball.

  chapter eleven

  My boss wasn’t pleased that I had to go out of town for a family event. With each swipe over a dish, I racked my brain for ways to tackle San Diego. I knew no one there. And I needed another excuse to get some more days off.

  After the lunch rush on Friday, I signed out and gave Jessie the San Diego update at the Pineapple Hut.

  “That is such good news, Travis,” said Jessie.

  “It is, but it means I have to crack another city.”

  She reached for her computer and turned it on. “Well, that’s what the Internet is for.”

  “If we go on 411.com, maybe her name will pop up when I exchange Hermosa for San Diego.”

  “Exactly,” Jessie said.

  I typed in Robert Miller, San Diego and got more than I bargained for. “There are thirty-five Bob or Robert Millers.”

  Jessie examined the screen. “Now you’ve got the opposite problem. But it’s a good one. Just weed through them, and it’ll lead you to Amanda.”

  “You’re right. It’s only thirty-five phone calls.”

  “And who’s to say you won’t get lucky on number five?” Jessie copied the list into a Word document and saved it to a usb drive. Within five minutes, she’d taken the drive into the restaurant and returned with a printout of the names and numbers.

  Ethan pulled up to the curb in his Jeep. He tapped his horn, despite already having my attention.

  Jessie followed me toward the Jeep. Ethan got out, took my backpack and tossed it inside.

  “How’s the all-star pitcher doing today?” he asked.

  I smiled, embarrassed by his comment. Jessie gave me an extended hug as she wished me good luck. After a moment, Ethan cut in. “What about me?”

  Jessie pulled back and rolled her eyes so that only I could see.

  He persisted. “It’s a big tournament, you know. There will be scouts there.”

  Jessie held her eyes on me. “You’ve got my cell. Call when you find her!”

  “Thanks, Jess.” I stepped into the Jeep, and Ethan hit the gas. With Jessie and the beach behind us, I patted the front pocket of my jeans, checking that the list was with me as we headed toward the freeway.

  “So what was she talking about? She knows we’re playing in a baseball tournament, right?” Ethan asked.

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t blame him for being anything but 100 percent focused on baseball. I was about to switch topics when he did it for me.

  “I saw the way she pulled you in for that big hug.” He tapped me on the arm. “You asked her out. Obviously, it went well.”

  “No.”

  “No to what part?” he asked.

  “To all of it.”

  He lifted his baseball hat and repositioned it. “Travis, I don’t know how things work in Arizona, but on the west coast you have to make your move fast. A hot girl like that won’t stay single for long. Hold on. Do you even know if she’s single?”

  “No idea.”

  “Has she talked about a guy? Mentioned anyone?”

  “Nope.”

  “Have you seen her with a guy?”

  I was growing tired of his line of questions. “No.”

  “That’s sweet.” He nudged me again. “Then the only possible guy is you—or me!”

  “What about you, Ethan? I don’t hear you talking about a girl.”

  “That’s because I’m in between girls.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, had to drop the last girl. She had major issues.”

  I turned from the road to him. “She didn’t like baseball, huh?”

  “Hated it!”

  By the time we rolled into Riverside, the list was burning a hole in my pocket. The two-story motel we were staying in had a large banner at the parking-lot entrance welcoming all the teams. The lobby overflowed with ballplayers. Our room had two double beds and a tv.

  Ethan tossed his bag onto the bed closest to the door. “We have a team dinner at a restaurant across the street.”

  I was hoping to be alone with my list. “I’m kind of tired—”

  “You can’t ditch a team dinner. Coach will never forgive you. We need to leave in ten.”

  Less than five minutes later, Ethan dragged me out the door. The restaurant was set up like an old-fashioned saloon. It was busy, and we found the Hurricanes seated at a long table in the back. Chips, salsa and pitchers of soft drinks already crowded the table. Other teams sat at tables next to us, and I think there was a competition to see who could be the loudest. I worked on my bottomless 7-Ups, and soon enough I had a legitimate excuse to go to the bathroom.

  I picked a stall and started punching in numbers, using a long-distance calling card I had picked up when we had stopped for gas earlier. I dialed the first name on the list. An old man answered and didn’t understand what I was asking. He called me Peter and seemed to think I was his grandson or something. Not the best start. I hung up. On my next call, a woman answered and put me through to Bob immediately.

  A man cleared his throat and said, “Bob speaking.”

  “I’m looking for Amanda Miller.”

  “Well, if you wanted an Amanda, why’d you ask for Bob?”

  That was a good question.

  “Whatcha selling?” he asked.

  “Huh? I’m not—”

  “Are you some sort of telemarketer?”

  “I’m looking for Amanda. Does she live there?”

  “First, I think you’ve got the wrong number. Second, it’s dinnertime.”

  Before I could say sorry, he’d hung up. The next call rang forever before a woman answered. I decided to pose my question better. “Is Bob or Amanda there?” There was silence. “Hello?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that Bob passed away a few months ago.”

  “I’m very sorry for bothering you.”

  “Did you work with Bob?”

  “No. I was actually hoping to find Amanda.”

  “Don’t know an Amanda. Bob and I were married for forty-three years.”

  My finger was on the Cancel Call button as she went into a biography of his life, and I saw my long-distance minutes disappearing. Then the bathroom door swung open, and I heard people talking. I panicked, hung up on the woman in midsentence and flushed the toilet. When I got back to the table, the entire team broke into applause, hooting and hollering my name.

  Ethan asked, “Did you fall in?”

  I slouched in my chair, red-faced, and hid behind another glass of pop.

  chapter twelve

  I had to zigzag my way through the lobby in the morning just to get out. It was a sea of bobbing
baseball hats. The blue team had taken over the lobby chairs, while the yellows hovered over computers in the business area. I felt bad for anyone who wasn’t here for the tournament. I repeated the words sorry, excuse me, as my backpack, with my cleats, batting helmet, glove and the list of phone numbers, brushed against people. When I reached the exit, I had to lift my bag over my head just to squeeze out.

  A honking horn caught my attention, and I jumped into Ethan’s Jeep.

  “If our first team is late because of this traffic, it counts as a no-show and we win by default,” he said.

  “That ever happen before?” My backpack rested on my lap. I wasn’t going to let it out of my sight.

  “Don’t think so,” said Ethan.

  I spotted three baseball fields as we entered an already jammed parking lot. Ethan had to scramble for a spot on the grass. I trailed behind Ethan, who was almost jogging to the field.

  Most of the people milling around were parents with coolers. A large sign had a list of all the teams. The Hurricanes-versus-Chargers game was scheduled for field two. Ethan led me on a narrow gravel path between two sets of stands, each facing out toward two fields. We popped out behind the home-plate fence and saw some members of our team already sitting in a dugout. I stepped inside.

  Coach Robert checked us off his list. “Where were you guys, the gift shop?” he asked.

  Ethan apologized for both of us. After the warm-up, Coach Robert called us in for the pregame pep talk. He gave his usual advice and reminded everyone that this was a single-elimination tournament. “We need to win in our pool today to move to the finals on Monday. So do your best. Make it count. Go down swinging, and remember…” He paused. “There could be scouts watching.”

  Thanks for the pressure, Coach! Between the rush to get to the game and the pep talk, I had built up a lot of nervous energy, and it sucked to waste it sitting on the bench. I was excited and anxious to play. But at the same time, I would have been happy if the Chargers had gotten stuck at the hotel and forfeited the game. Our team was fielding, so I moved to the far side of the dugout, where the players’ bats were stored in little cubbies. I looked over to make sure Coach Robert was distracted by the game, then pulled out my cell phone and my list. I dialed the last number on the list, just to mix it up. The call went straight to voice mail. I knew that meant someone was home but on the phone. After the greeting, I left a message with my name, number and reason for calling. My next three calls, dialed randomly from the list, were dead ends. No one knew an Amanda.