Strike (Gentry Generations #1)

by Cora Brent

  As I drove out of Wild Spring I glanced over at the wine-colored stucco building at the north end. There was no one in sight at Blue Rain.

  On the winding desert road that led to the freeway I turned up the radio when I heard Bruce Springsteen’s Glory Days. Even though the lyrics were kind of melancholy – some guy thinking back to the best days of his life that were long in the past - I felt instantly more cheerful as I hummed along. I remembered thinking not too long ago that my own glory days might be behind me but there was still a lot to be optimistic about. Five miles down the freeway there was a group of kids who were waiting for me to show up and coach their hitting techniques.

  When I pulled in I could see that the field was busy with teenagers and coaches. The high school baseball season had ended a few weeks back and we were gearing up for the summer day camp but for now the program was four days a week after school. There were some really promising young athletes enrolled.

  “Hey, Dalton,” greeted Mick, one of the coaches. Like me, he’d done a few seasons in the majors but that was a long time ago. Now he was a retired firefighter with a teenage son of his own and he was always eager to donate some time to help the kids.

  “Dalton!” came the shouts from every direction and I waved, calling out to each one by name.

  I was proud that they had so much enthusiasm that they wanted to be out here even though it was a hundred degrees out and their regular seasons were over. They wanted to be better. They wanted to be the best. And I wanted to do everything in my power to help them get there.

  I’d been working on getting a youth training facility off the ground since I got back to town last year. The idea gave me something positive to focus on. Of course the club required plenty of my attention yet despite the fact that I was happy to have the job it wouldn’t ever be something I felt passionately about.

  With some help I’d lucked into getting a cheap short team lease for this property. Thanks to the upstanding coaches and some part time administrative staff the after school program kicked off this past February. Fees were low and word of mouth was strong so it didn’t take long to fill up. Starting next week the summer camp hours would run from eight in the morning until five o’clock. The grounds used to be a city-owned recreation complex before a new, flashier version was opened last year in a better location. Once the summer was over I’d have to figure something else out because the clubhouse, baseball diamonds and batting cages were being razed so the property could be marketed for commercial development. It was a shame. I remembered playing for a local league here when I was a teenager.

  After ducking into the air conditioned main building and checking in with the camp director who played for the USA Women’s Olympic softball team years ago, I snatched a glove and headed for the field.

  “Catch?” shouted a young voice and I nodded before holding my glove up to receive the ball that came sailing my way only seconds later. The throw was impressively hard for someone so young. I fired it back and admired the effortless catch twenty yards away.

  “How’s your hitting coming along?” I called.

  “Three homers in practice today,” he boasted. I didn’t doubt him.

  “Feel like grabbing a bat right now?” I asked.

  He lowered his glove and grinned. “Always.”

  “Meet you on the north diamond. I’ll pitch. Get a drink of water first.”

  Without hesitation the kid ran for the nearby dugout to follow orders.

  The indoor batting cages were air conditioned and would be getting a lot of use over the summer but for today the temperature wasn’t as scorching as it had been. I pulled my old cap out of my back pocket and stuck it on my head before heading toward the empty field to wait for the kid to return.

  Thomas was a strapping thirteen year old with a winning smile who would plainly grow up to be the image of his father. And the reason I was sure about that was because I had known his father for years. Chase Gentry happened to be one of my high school teachers over a decade ago and we’d kept in touch.

  Suddenly I stopped short.

  Gentry.

  Not a terribly uncommon name. It was a coincidence. It had to be.

  Thomas returned with a bat and a bucket of baseballs.

  “Nobody wanted to play catcher,” he explained when he left the bucket at my feet.

  “That’s fine. I’ll keep throwing until the bucket’s empty.”

  “And I’ll keep hitting until you’re out of ammo,” the kid said confidently.

  He nailed the first ball way into the outfield but whiffed the next two.

  “Fix your stance,” I told him. “Quit choking the bat.”

  The next time I threw a ball Thomas connected the hit with a satisfying crack. I watched with approval as the ball sailed way out, over the chain link fence and into the brush.

  “Nice,” I told him. “I’ll be digging in the dirt for that one later.”

  The kid laughed and slammed the next one into the outfield just shy of the fence.

  I wasn’t keeping an eye on the clock but eventually I reached for the last ball in the bucket. My arm wasn’t tired yet but it was getting there. Thomas hit a line drive that went all the way to the corner.

  “Fair ball,” I judged. “Probably would have been a triple.”

  Thomas cheered and dropped his bat before deciding to run the bases with a rush of energy. I began picking up scattered baseballs. When he was finished playing the home run hero, Thomas joined in the effort. Some of the kids were getting picked up by this point but I was still chasing down balls while running through a mental list of the subjects I still needed to discuss with the coaches and the camp director before I left today.

  As I tossed a ball into the bucket I noticed a long shadow approaching but didn’t think anything of it until I heard Thomas Gentry call, “Hey Cami, what are you doing here?”

  I looked up and found that I was being observed by Cami Gentry’s arresting green eyes. She was still looking at me while she answered Thomas.

  “Your mom asked me to pick you up today since your dad had a school meeting and she heard I was working just a few miles away. Didn’t she mention it?”

  The kid shrugged. “Yeah, maybe she did. Kellan always says there’s a baseball between my ears instead of a brain.”

  Cami smiled and turned her attention to Thomas. “Big brothers aren’t always the kindest creatures. Come on, get your stuff. I’ll take you out for a burger before I drive you home.”

  Thomas whooped and started to run off before stopping short and gesturing to me. “Wait, I’ve got to help Dalton collect the rest of the balls.”

  “Go on,” I told him. “I can collect the balls myself.”

  Thomas lingered. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, get on out of here. Good job today.”

  “Let me go get my bag,” Thomas told Cami. “Oh, by the way Cami, this is my coach, Dalton Tremaine. He used to play in the MLB.”

  “Hello, Dalton Tremaine,” Cami said politely and we watched the boy jog away before she faced me expectantly. “I’m surprised to run into you here.”

  “Wasn’t expecting you either, Cami.”

  “So you coach baseball in your spare time?”

  I plucked a ball out of the bucket, tossed it in the air and caught it cleanly in my palm. “Nope. I run a night club in my spare time. This is the reason I get up in the morning.”

  She looked around. “Looks like you’ve got a few more balls to collect.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering to help me with my balls?”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it, visibly blushing. From the few conversations I’d had with Cami Gentry I suspected she spent some effort trying to appear cool and unruffled. I liked knowing I had the power to rattle her a little.

  “I didn’t place your last name right away,” I said. “It didn’t occur to me that you might be related to Thomas and Chase Gentry.”

  She looked surprised. “How do you know my f
amily?”

  “Chase was my teacher once upon a time.”

  “I see,” she nodded. “He’s my uncle.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Nope, he’s my father’s brother.”

  I had a sudden flashback to Mr. Chase Gentry standing in front of a classroom and telling colorful stories from his youth as he doggedly tried to keep our attention. He and his brothers had come from a hardscrabble small town not too far from here. I always got the feeling we were hearing the tame version of the kind of trouble they used to get into. There was a reason he would give us those glimpses into his youth. Chase and his brothers had been the wild kids, the lost kids, the kids everyone assumed would amount to no better than what they’d been born into. He wanted us to know that was bullshit, that no one had the right to set hard limits on any kid’s potential. I wasn’t a terrific student but I always listened to every word in Mr. Gentry’s class. At that time in my life when I always felt like I’d never live up to my father’s high expectations, the things my teacher said were exactly the things I needed to hear. He was by far my favorite teacher of all time.

  And now, years later, here I was checking out his niece and thinking that no one had a right to look so sexy in khaki pants.

  “Is your dad Cord or Creed?” I asked.

  She was surprised. “Cord.”

  “Chase used to tell stories about his brothers all the time,” I explained. “I can remember thinking that I wished I’d been born into a set of triplets.”

  Cami smiled at that. “When my twin sister Cassie and I were small we used to pretended we were really triplets. We named our imaginary sister Can.”

  “Can? As in can of beans?”

  She giggled. “It started with a C so it seemed to fit. We were four years old. Anyway, when our baby sister Cadence was born we forgot all about Can.”

  We locked eyes for a second and I found myself wishing I’d met this girl in another place or that she was a few years older. Then I brushed off all that doubt with an internal ‘Fuck it’ because no circumstances were ever perfect and some chances were worth taking.

  “You still think you might be willing to drink a cup of coffee if I’m buying?” I asked. In the distance I could see Thomas jogging back this way.

  “Coffee would be good,” she said with a playful grin. “Or I might go for something a little stronger.”

  “Well, Miss Twenty-One-Year-Old Gentry, how about you stop by the club later and I’ll make that happen?”

  She cocked her head. “You’re not working tonight?”

  “I work most nights. But I don’t work every minute.”

  “I thought Aqua Room was the upper crust crowd.” She glanced down at her work clothes and clucked her tongue. “Not sure I qualify.”

  “You do if I say you do.”

  The tip of her tongue wet her lips as she mulled that over. “Then I’m not sure how I feel about sitting at the bar alone until you can spare some time to talk to me.”

  I shrugged. “Invite a friend then. And this way you can rest assured that my intentions are honorable.”

  I was lying of course. There was a flood of very dishonorable thoughts running through my head where Cami Gentry was concerned.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll bring my sister, Cassie.”

  “Great. As long as she’s old enough to walk through the door without getting me in trouble.”

  “We’re twins, remember?”

  “You might have mentioned it.”

  “I did.” She crossed her arms. “Maybe we will stop by.”

  “Fine. I’ll leave word at the door. If anyone gives you trouble then tell them to talk to me. Insist on it.”

  Cami nodded. “I will. If I come that is.”

  Thomas had reached us and I didn’t want him to know I was making plans with his cousin. He was giving me a slightly puzzled look, probably wondering what prompted the sudden silence, but luckily Cami stepped in smoothly.

  “Dalton was just telling me how great you’re doing,” she told the boy and affectionately threw an arm around his shoulders.

  “That’s right,” I agreed, then leaned forward to speak in a near whisper. “Best player I’ve seen out here, but don’t share that with the other kids.”

  Thomas beamed. I knew it was his goal to play in the majors someday, the same goal so many of these kids had. It was always a long shot of course, no matter how much talent was there. Injuries and other variables might get in the way. But I took care to be as positive as possible. I’d never do a thing to take the light of hope out of a kid’s eyes. There were already too many assholes in the world talking trash.

  “You ready?” Cami asked her cousin and he nodded.

  “See ya, Dalton,” he said as he waved and then slung his equipment bag over his shoulder.

  “You bet,” I told him.

  Thomas started walking away and Cami followed without saying another word. The shadows were growing long on the field as the sun started sliding down toward the horizon. I’d need to head back in a few minutes if I wanted to have enough time to shower before tackling the night’s chores at Aqua Room. Inwardly I groaned as I remembered Griffin and his guests. No doubt they’d require some attention and I’d probably be stuck listening to tedious tales of venture capitalism. Tonight wasn’t really the best night to have invited Cami for a drink at the club but I couldn’t take it back now. Anyway I didn’t want to take it back. I wanted to see her. Even if meant being chaperoned by her sister. The funny thing about Cami was that even though I barely knew her I already wanted to get inside her head as much as I wanted to get her clothes off.

  Cami Gentry thought she was playing it cool with her prim, ‘If I come’ response. But right before she followed her cousin off the field she glanced back, saw me watching, and then whipped her head around to make it seem like she hadn’t turned around for one last look.

  I whistled as I hunted down the rest of the baseballs and tossed them in the bucket.

  She would come tonight. I was sure of it. She was dying to come. In more ways than one.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Camille

  “Tell me more about the guy,” my sister demanded as she squirmed in the passenger seat and pulled up the straps of a pretty plum-colored dress that proved she’d been blessed with the best tits.

  “What guy?” I played dumb and fished around in my purse with one hand while I kept the other on the steering wheel.

  “The one you’re hunting down lip gloss for. The one who motivated you to try on every article of clothing you owned and then rummage through my closet in a panic. What did you say his name was? Trevor?”

  I glanced down at the short silver sheath dress I’d borrowed from my sister. “You said you didn’t mind about the dress.”

  “I don’t. It looks way better than you than it does on me. Now answer my question. We shared a womb once so you shouldn’t hesitate to share all the news about Trevor.”

  I sighed and gave up digging around for the lip gloss. “First of all, his name isn’t Trevor. It’s Dalton. Dalton Tremaine.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “How did I get Trevor out of that?”

  I paused at a red light. “Hell if I know, Cass. Anyway, do you want to hear about this or not?”

  She tossed her long blonde hair and leaned over from the passenger seat with an eager grin. “I definitely want to hear.”

  “He manages Aqua Room, the club at the resort. He used to be a pro baseball player. He’s tall, he’s hot, he might be justifiably conceited and we keep running into each other. I hardly know him and yet I get nervous as a cat every time he’s anywhere near my personal space. What are you doing? Cassie, are you texting while I pour out my heart?”

  My sister waved away my objections as she scanned her phone. “Hush. I’m hanging on every word. I just needed a visual aid.”

  “Did you find one?”

  Her eyes widened and she let out a low whistle. “You didn’t exaggerate. I figured
he had to be something special.”

  “Why’d you figure that?”

  Cassie lowered her phone and looked smug. “Dress. Makeup. Half an hour in front of the bathroom vanity with my curling iron.”

  “Whatever,” I muttered. A juvenile answer but there’s no point in denying the obvious truth to the person who’s known you since you were a zygote. I still didn’t know whether Dalton Tremaine was worth getting excited about but a few steamy daydreams here and there weren’t hurting anyone. I’d been surprised to see him when I went to go pick up Thomas from his baseball practice. Surprised, and ridiculously pleased.

  Cassie was staring out the window now, lost in her own thoughts as she tugged at a golden strand of hair and surveyed the dark scene outside. I thought a shadow passed over her expression but I was probably wrong. Cassie brought out my overprotective side. My heart hurt when I thought about what she went through in high school, how it had wounded her and how helpless I had felt for failing to protect her.

  “What time is Jacob’s graduation tomorrow?” I asked and she brightened.

  “Mom said the ceremony’s at six and right after that we’re all going to Uncle Creed and Aunt Truly’s house.”

  “I’m getting hungry just thinking about it,” I said, my mouth watering over the memory of dozens of Gentry family holidays that were always enhanced with my Aunt Truly’s spectacular cooking.

  It felt strange pulling into the Wild Spring Resort after dark. No lights were on at Blue Rain and the vast parking lots surrounding the main building were less than a quarter full. I could see Richard, one of the ever-present doormen, standing in the lobby. Even at a glance he looked bored.

  “Almost looks like it’s closed,” Cassie remarked.

  “It’s not. Just the typical summer crowd, or lack thereof.”

  I followed another car down the winding road that I knew would lead to the south side of the resort, where Aqua Room was tucked away. I hadn’t been over here yet and wasn’t sure what to expect but as soon as I saw the tastefully lit building flanked by towering palm trees I understood this probably wasn’t going to be the kind of pulsing party spot full of lurching drunks and ear splitting music that had thus far typified my club experience.