Playing the Game

by JL Paul

  “I will. I promise,” I assured him. I bid him goodbye and headed for the elevators.

  ***

  “…and so he told me to come back in a year if I want,” I said as I perched on a stool in Gwen’s shop.

  “That’s good,” she said as she rearranged a display of trinkets. “So you have that option.” She turned to me, hand on the tiny bump barely visible beneath her t-shirt. “What are you going to do next?”

  “I meet with a counselor at the community college tomorrow,” I said, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice.

  “I’m glad you’re doing this,” Gwen said. “You need to spread your wings.”

  I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Whatever.”

  She pulled up another stool, setting it next to me, eyes roving my face as she sat. “You look like you could use a couple extra hours of sleep.”

  I shrugged. “It’s hard to sleep with Jess gone.”

  She beamed while heat flooded my cheeks. “Ah, new love. I remember. You’re staying with him, right?”

  “Yes but only temporarily.”

  Her brows pulled together. “Why?”

  “I’ve never lived alone. I’d like to give it a try.”

  She snorted. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be but go ahead. You’re probably right.” She laughed and I stared suspiciously at her, not finding her humor. “If you moved in with Jess, Mom would probably have a fit. Two disowned daughters.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, heart falling to the floor.

  “Hey,” Gwen said, voice softening. “Just go talk to her if it bothers you this much. She’ll listen.”

  “I will. I want to get my life sorted first,” I insisted.

  “Trying to prove a point?” Gwen asked with raised brow.

  “Maybe. But not to throw it in her face. I just want to show her that I can do it.”

  “Good luck with that,” Gwen said with a smirk.

  ***

  Rihanna Winters was friendly. And understanding. Those were my first impressions of the counselor. Once again I was ushered into an office and coaxed to state my needs and wishes.

  “I’m not exactly sure what I want to do,” I moaned.

  The attractive brunette just laughed. “Not a whole lot of new students do. You don’t need to declare a major right away. Why don’t you just take the general, required classes first and allow yourself to adjust to college life.”

  I could do that. I’d been a decent student in high school – earning mostly A’s and B’s.

  She sent me to a private room to take an entrance exam. I struggled through it, digging in the deep recesses of my mind to recall my arithmetic lessons, and handed it back. Once she graded it, she sat me down again to discuss the classes I should take. Then she held my hand during the entire registration process.

  Of course the address line stumped me.

  “Um, I’m currently staying with a friend until I find a place of my own,” I explained. I waited for the wariness to seep into her eyes but it never did.

  “That’s okay. Just put your friend’s address down and when you do move, you can change it.”

  Easy enough. I carefully scrawled Jess’s address in the provided space, enjoying too much that it was currently my address, also.

  Once all the forms were completed, the ugly subject of money arose. I explained that I had no job and only a small savings account. Of course Rihanna had an answer for that and escorted me to the Financial Aid department where I had to fill out even more forms.

  I left the campus drained and a little leery about what classes would be like if the registration process was so rigorous.

  But as I settled on Jess’s sofa, my heart lightened and my mood lifted. I was officially a college student.

  I turned on the TV to watch the game, my already good mood jubilant as I remembered Jess was scheduled to pitch.

  I caught the tail end of the National Anthem and smiled a little at the song. I had to laugh as I imagined that to be our song – Jess and I. It was the thing that had brought us back together after all. I laughed harder as I imagined us in a dimly lit ballroom, Jess handsome in a black tuxedo and me in a white gown, dancing close to the Star Spangled Banner.

  The laughter died on my lips as I realized what I was thinking. I swallowed as my heart pounded. Did I really think Jess would marry me? He didn’t even introduce me as his girlfriend – merely as Aubrey. So what the hell was I thinking?

  “I’m thinking that I love him and the only thing I’m absolutely sure of in my life is that I want to be with him,” I stated aloud. It didn’t sound so silly when the words were spoken. But it made me wonder what he wanted. I was too afraid to ask.

  I shook the haunting thoughts from my head and concentrated on the game. Derrick was up to bat, leading off, and he managed to coax a walk out of the starting pitcher. I paid little attention until the Racers were retired without scoring and Jess took the field. I watched his long form wind-up and drill a warm-up pitch to the catcher.

  He retired the first two batters and smirked as the Oliver Wendell strutted to the plate. Wendell, I knew from Jess, was the league’s leader in home runs and on base percentage. He was tough but Jess was more than ready for him. He always loved a challenge.

  Mesmerized as Jess whizzed a couple fast balls past him, I wore my own smirk as Wendell grew more and more frustrated. When Jess fooled him with a breaking ball that just cut the corner for strike three, Wendell slammed his bat down, shooting Jess a menacing glare. Jess grinned as he trotted off the mound for the dugout.

  The bad blood between Jess and Wendell increased as the game progressed - so did my anxiety. I hoped Jess would be pulled from the game soon before anything could happen but I knew that wasn’t likely. The match was too close, the Racers with a slim 2-0 lead, and Jess wasn’t close to tiring.

  When Wendell came to the plate in the third and struck out again, he exchanged heated words with Jess. Undaunted, Jess took a few steps off the mound toward Wendell but the umpire came between them, issuing a warning to both benches. I gritted my teeth, running the words over and over in my head that I planned to scream at Jess when he called later that night. Childish, immature, and idiot were a few of the nicer ones.

  When the bottom of the sixth came around, Wendell finally figured out Jess’s rhythm. He connected with a fast ball and sent it to the wall, earning a double. Although I couldn’t hear it, I could see the string of profanities coming from Jess’s mouth. The announcers calling the game wondered at Jess’s anger. They remarked that it wasn’t as if he had a no-hitter going but I knew better. He didn’t much care for Oliver Wendell or the arrogant, I’m-better-than-you attitude he displayed on the field and to the media. As arrogant as Jess could be, he was nowhere near the caliber of Oliver Wendell.

  Jess was ruffled – it didn’t take a genius to figure that out. The next batter hit one up the middle and luckily Wendell was only able to advance to third. The heat was on and Jess strolled around the mound, tossing the rosin bag up, letting it flop on his hand. He stepped on the rubber and stared at his catcher, watching the signs. He shook off the first two before standing and glancing at the runners over his shoulder. Wendell was dancing up and down the third base line, daring Jess to try and pick him off. Ignoring him, Jess delivered a nasty curve to the plate. The batter swung and missed.

  My heart thumped in my chest. Just one out and he’d get out of this jam. Just one strikeout and Jess could get in the dugout and cool off.

  But his next pitch bounced wildly off the plate and rolled toward the wall. The catcher flipped off his mask, scrambling after it. Jess ran home to cover the plate as the catcher found the ball and tossed it to him.

  I held my breath as I watched Wendell barrel down the line and screamed as Wendell plowed into Jess, knocking him into the air. I didn’t hear the umpire’s call as Jess fell to the ground on his left shoulder. I didn’t see the catcher shake off his glove as he ran after Wendell. I didn’t see the dugouts clear as play
ers charged the field.

  My eyes were on Jess, lying motionless behind home plate. I watched the trainer rush to him followed by the manager who ignored the brawling players. The announcers were having a hey-day as they exclaimed over the fighting players, ignoring Jess’s still form.

  Finally, Troy Neal noticed that Jess wasn’t joining in the ruckus. He trotted over to check on him. The melee began to die down as more and more Racers realized their pitcher wasn’t getting up either to join them or to limp to the locker room.

  I paced in front of the TV, squatting before it every once in awhile, until the station cut to commercial.

  My cell rang and I charged for my bag to find it.

  “Kendra?” was my breathless greeting.

  “No, it’s Gwen. Are you watching the game?”

  “Yes. Why did they have to cut to commercial? Is he okay, do you think?” I rambled, my voice shaky and contorted.

  “I don’t know, honey,” Gwen cooed. “Why don’t you try to call Kendra?”

  I nodded, unthinkingly and hung up. I dialed Kendra’s number with trembling fingers, cursing strong enough to impress Jess when she didn’t answer. The game was back on and I cursed again through my sobs as an ambulance drove onto the field. Two EMS medics kneeled over Jess, their fingers peeling back his eyelids.

  Holding my breath, I watched as they loaded Jess onto a stretcher and shoved him into the back of the ambulance. The stadium was dead silent as the ambulance pulled away and I called Gwen again.

  “Take me to the airport,” I insisted. I calculated in my head how much room I had on my credit card, hoping that if it wasn’t enough, Gwen would loan me the rest. I’d pay her back somehow. “Now.”

  “Aubrey,” she began in a patronizing voice.

  “Fine, I’ll call a cab,” I said, rifling through Jess’s office for a phone book. I didn’t remember how I’d gotten there but it didn’t matter.

  “I’m on my way. Be ready,” Gwen sighed.

  I returned to the living room and watched as a new pitcher warmed up on the mound. The announcers had no news for me except a list of ejected players and I cursed them. If I hadn’t been so worried I was sure I’d be ashamed of my mouth. But I had no time for such petty emotions.

  I remembered Gwen was on her way so I dashed to Jess’s bedroom to pack some clothes. My phone rang just as I zipped the bag.

  “Aubrey, it’s Kendra.”

  “Kendra,” I gushed. “How is he? Where is he?”

  “Hold on, honey,” she said. “I’m on my way to the hospital now. No one knows anything yet but he was hit pretty hard.”

  “I saw.” I sniffed as I shut off the television. “My sister is on her way to take me to the airport. I’ll call you when I land, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, trying to sound bright. “I’m sure Jess will be pissed that you flew all the out here for this but I don’t blame you. I’d do the same thing.”

  She was trying to be positive for both our sakes but I could hear the worry in her voice. That scared me all the more. She’d witnessed it firsthand.

  Gwen honked and I was out the door.

  “Gwen’s here. I’ll call you soon.” I said, running to the car. “And Kendra, if you get to see him, tell him I love him.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  Ending the call, I prepared for the longest trip of my life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The plane took forever. When it finally touched down, I shook my leg impatiently, waiting for the seat belt light to extinguish.

  I pushed through the passengers, ignoring the rude comments from some of them, and made my way to the terminal. I searched frantically for Kendra, hoping she’d be there already. I’d called her on the in-flight phone to give her my flight number and arrival time.

  “Aubrey!”

  Whirling around, I spotted her lounging against a wall. I hoisted my small bag further up my shoulder and jostled my way over to her. “How is he?”

  Kendra took my arm, pulling me through the crowd. “I don’t know.”

  “I thought you went to the hospital?” I asked, alarmed.

  “I did. Do you have luggage?”

  “No. Kendra, what’s going on?” My heart was pounding in my chest and my mouth turned as dry as the desert.

  She continued yanking on my arm as we rushed through the airport to the parking garage. Releasing my arm, she led me to a rental car and unlocked its doors.

  “I did go to the hospital but they wouldn’t tell me anything because I’m not family,” she explained. She whipped the little sedan out of the parking spot and raced down the ramps to the gate. She shoved the ticket in and paid her fee before joining traffic. “The hospital isn’t far from here.”

  “So you don’t know if he’s even awake?”

  “No.” Her answer was short and simple but it stabbed my heart as if it were a twelve inch blade. All I could do was stare out the window and urge the traffic to move faster.

  When we arrived at the hospital, we raced to the nurses’ station behind the glass of the emergency room.

  “I’m here to see Jess Rivers,” I announced. “I’m his girlfriend, Aubrey Quinn.”

  “You and every other red-blooded female in the county,” the gruff nurse responded.

  But I didn’t have time for her rudeness. For all I knew Jess was dying and I needed to be with him. “Look, his parents are in Florida. Has anyone even called them?”

  “I don’t know,” the nurse responded. She sighed at my hard face. I wasn’t going to back down. “I’ll go ask Mr. Rivers if he’ll see you. What was your name again?”

  “He’s awake?” I gasped, heart jumping an inch.

  “He might be,” the nurse responded. “Now, if you want me to find out if you’re allowed to see him then you need to tell me your name.”

  “Aubrey Quinn.”

  She scribbled my name on a piece of paper and scooted around the desk. When she disappeared down a hall, I craned my neck to see where she’d gone. Kendra grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “He must be awake if she’s asking if you can go back there,” Kendra said with a flicker of a smile. Her smile slipped as she glanced around the reception area. “I don’t see any of the guys. Maybe they went back already. I know the game is over.”

  The nurse returned a couple minutes later and frowned. She pointed at Kendra. “What’s your name?”

  “Kendra Browning,” she said.

  The nurse consulted a piece of paper and nodded. “You two can go up to the west wing waiting room on the third floor. Mr. Rivers’ teammates are up there.”

  Kendra thanked her as I scrambled for the elevator. I punched the button three or four times as I waited for the doors to open. As soon as they did, Kendra shoved me inside and pushed the number three. We were silent as the elevator car whirred, carrying us up to our destination. The doors opened, Kendra stepped out, read the signs, and dragged me in the right direction.

  Three players lounged against the wall outside of the waiting room and my heart fell again. Did they not know anything? It’d been hours since the collision. Certainly Jess would be awake by now.

  “Kendra,” Troy breathed as he greeted her with a kiss. I had to turn my head. “Aubrey, he’s okay.”

  I whipped my head around, slack-jawed. “He is?”

  “Yeah,” Troy grinned. “He was cussing like a … well… like Jess because he was in pain but he’s fine. They took him down for an MRI or something though I told the doctor Jess’s skull was too thick to crack.”

  He could joke all he wanted but I wouldn’t relax until I saw Jess with my own eyes. “His arm?”

  Troy cringed. “I don’t know. They had it in a sling and Jess said they took x-rays but he didn’t know much else yet.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “They don’t think it’s broken.”

  I deflated as I closed my eyes. I sent up a tiny prayer that it wouldn’t end his career. “How bad?”

  “I don’
t know,” Troy said, his eyes sympathetic. He slid his hand around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze. I appreciated it but it brought no comfort. I just wanted to see Jess.

  A few of the guys tried to offer me their seats but I refused. I couldn’t sit. I wanted to stand watch in the hall even though I had no clue what room Jess would be taken to after his tests.

  Finally, two giggling nurses sashayed their way to the waiting area to deliver the news Jess had been returned to his room.

  “Come on, Aubrey,” Troy said, placing a hand on the small of my back. “I’ll take you to him.”

  I nodded as our heels clattered off the white tile floor. I didn’t pay any attention to the bright artwork on the walls or the open doors of the patient rooms. I just allowed Troy to steer me.

  He stopped in front of a closed door, rapping his knuckles on the wood. He peered inside. “Dude, I have a visitor for you.”

  I couldn’t hear a response as Troy shoved me through the door and closed it behind me.

  “Geez, Aubrey. What are you doing here?” Jess whined.

  I stood frozen, rooted to the floor. His long, lean frame rested on the propped pillows, his lower half covered with a sheet. A white bandage was stuck to his left temple and his arm was nestled in a sling.

  My lip trembled as my eyes searched his body for evidence of any other injuries. I could see nothing but as I had no medical degree, I couldn’t be sure.

  The tears dripped down my cheeks but I hardly noticed them. I just stood like an idiot and stared.

  “Oh, hell. Come here,” he ordered.

  I ran to the bed and sank to the edge – the right and uninjured side. My head fell to his chest as I sobbed into his hospital gown. His right hand stroked my hair, making me feel more like a horrible fraud as I allowed him to comfort me.

  “I’m fine, Aubrey,” he cooed. “Didn’t even break my arm, though I’m likely out for the season. And no head injuries. They’ll let me out of here in the morning.”

  With a sniff, I nodded, lifting my head. I swiped at my tears. “It looked so awful on TV.”