Dan Alexander, Pitcher

by Jean C. Joachim

  Her hand few to her mouth. She picked up the cart and ran up the stairs.

  The camera went back to the action on the field. Dan’s stomach flipped. His heart melted. She didn’t deserve that, and he wasn’t sure she'd be able to deal with that kind of humiliation. The inning was over, and it was time for the seventh inning stretch. He looked for Holly, but couldn’t find her anywhere.

  He approached his manager. “Cal, need me?”

  “You can hit the showers, Alexander. Game’s almost over.”

  “Thanks.” He left the dugout and headed for the concession stand. Bud Magee was behind the counter. Dan asked him where Holly was.

  “What the hell happened? She dumped her cart and ran out of here like a bat out of Hell.”

  Dan explained then asked, “Where’d she go?”

  “Damned if I know. Probably back to my place. She’s a good kid, but she needs to get a sense of humor.”

  Dan thanked Bud and headed for the gate. He’d been to Bud’s house many times for big dinners, especially during the off season, when they could drink what they wanted and stay up late. He saw a figure waking fast up the sidewalk. He broke into an easy lope and caught up with her. She had her head down and held a tissue to her face. A queasy feeling grabbed Dan’s stomach. He hated crying women. He never knew what to do or say, and whatever he did only seemed to make them cry more.

  He cupped her shoulder with his big palm. “Wait. Wait. Holly?”

  She stopped in her tracks, but didn’t turn around. He felt her tremble.

  “Hey, come on. Nothing’s that bad.”

  “You didn’t have your ass, big as the Empire State Building, on TV.” Her tone was sharp, but she had stopped walking.

  “No, can’t say I’ve ever had that honor. That I know of. They get shots of us when we don’t know it. Some pretty embarrassing too.”

  She turned to face him. “Yeah? Like what?” She trained gorgeous blue eyes on him and rested her hands on her hips.

  “Like a guy picking his nose or scratching his…his crotch.” Now, Dan was the uncomfortable one. He raised his gaze to hers.

  She was laughing.

  * * * *

  Holly looked up into the most gorgeous hazel eyes she’d ever seen. The tall man with dark brown hair gazed down at her, his brows knit, his expression concerned. She couldn’t believe he had chased her down to make her feel better about having her ass blasted over network television. Just the thought of it made her cringe. Thank God my parents don’t know where I am.

  As she’d fled, she’d thanked her lucky stars they hadn’t had her face on there. With her long locks, even brown, she’d have been recognized by Flash. He was a big baseball fan, and the Nighthawks were his favorite team. She’d have to go farther to change her appearance, like a new hairdo.

  “Have you been caught on camera doing, uh, those things?” He’d piqued her curiosity.

  His face reddened. “I dunno. Probably. I’ve been pitching in the majors for five years.” He offered his hand. “Dan Alexander. We weren’t properly introduced before.”

  “Holly Merrill. Nice to meet you.” His hand was warm and dry, his shake firm, but not crushing. She tingled at his touch. Down girl. You’re hiding, and he’s probably taken. “I’ve really got to go. I want to help Nancy with dinner,” she lied.

  “Since when does Nancy Magee allow anyone else in her kitchen?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  Embarrassed all over again to be caught lying, she felt heat in her face and turned away. She had to get out of there before she made a bigger fool of herself.

  “I won’t keep you. Just wanted to tell you that that kind of stuff happens to people all the time. Don’t worry about it. I’d suggest you get a new shirt, though. That one’s kinda low, and I saw a guy checkin’ out the goods and gettin’ way more than just a hot dog for his four bucks.” His gaze lingered on her chest.

  “Oh my God, really? Crap.” Her hand flew to her neckline. “Horny men. Everywhere. Thanks for the heads up. Oh, hey, that’s funny!” She laughed at her own joke, along with Dan.

  “I’ve got to get back. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Thanks. That’s very nice of you. I’m okay now. Much better.”

  With a brief wave, he turned and loped back to the stadium. Holly continued on her way. She wondered about Dan Alexander. Who was he? She had to know more about him.

  “Nancy! She’ll know,” Holly said aloud. “Bet she knows everything about everyone.” She picked up her pace. Now, she had a reason to get home.

  * * * *

  Holly entered the house and hurried to her room to shed the hated uniform. She slipped into jeans and an aqua designer T-shirt, leftover from her old life. Nancy was in the kitchen, shredding cabbage and carrots.

  “Homemade coleslaw?”

  The older woman nodded.

  Holly plopped down and picked up the peeler. She scraped the carrots as she talked. “I met Dan Alexander today. Hunky. Is he single?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but one glance at Nancy’s knowing expression indicated she hadn’t fooled the woman.

  “You gotta watch out for Dan.”

  “Really? He seems so nice.”

  “He’s got a girlfriend. Valerie something.” Nancy stirred in minced onion and made a face.

  “You don’t like her?”

  “None of my business, of course. But Dan comes from a small town in Indiana. He’s not a fancy guy. Or he wasn’t, until he made it big. And the girl, seems to me she’s out for whatever she can get from him. You know the type.”

  Holly nodded.

  “I mean, whenever Dan’s here, he’s always telling some story about what he just bought for her or plans to buy. Seems like the one thing she wants from him is an engagement ring. But he’s never said anything about that.”

  “But he’s nice, right?”

  “Dan? Salt of the Earth. Give you the shirt off his back. Would you mind getting the mayo out? Salt and pepper too?”

  “So, why should I watch out for him?”

  “Doesn’t seem like he’s looking for a permanent thing. If you get my meaning. Of course, you’re not going to be here forever, so maybe it’s a good fit. What do I know?” Nancy shrugged.

  “Thanks for the info.”

  The two worked, putting together a meal of barbecued brisket, cole slaw, and buttery homemade rolls.

  “So, where do you come from, Holly? If you can tell me, that is. I mean, I don’t want to compromise your safety.” Nancy pulled down four plates.

  “I’d rather not discuss it, if you don’t mind.” The young woman lowered her gaze to her hands.

  “Can you at least tell me how you got in this, this predicament?” Nancy fished utensils out of a drawer as she listened to Holly’s pathetic story with sympathy and patience.

  Holly wondered if her parents would feel as kindly and understanding toward their daughter if they knew the truth.

  “It’s hard to be a parent. My older daughter, Joyce, was an easy kid compared to Lisa. She breaks every rule, talks back. She has no respect for Bud or me. He gets so mad. Once, he threw a dish at the wall, after fighting with her. Scared the crap out of me. Her too. But she asks for it, ya know?”

  “I do. I was a brat too.”

  “Maybe you can talk to her? I bet she’d listen to you.”

  Holly shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll try.”

  “Thanks.”

  Not long after they finished, Bud and Lisa joined them at the dinner table. Bud raved about the meal. Holly suspected he did that every night. She figured the man was no dummy and that praising his wife’s cooking inspired Nancy. Their daughter was quiet, like the night before. Bud went on and on about the game, what the team did right and what they messed up.

  “I see on the school website, there’s a dance coming up, Lisa,” Nancy said, taking a forkful of brisket.

  “That’s none of your business, Mom.”

  “Don’t talk to your mother like that. She�
��s only trying to help,” Bud said.

  “Don’t you want to go?” Nancy asked.

  “No. You’ll make me wear some stupid dress, and I’ll look awful. The kids’ll laugh. You don’t know anything about fashion.”

  The table got quiet.

  Holly saw the hurt in Nancy’s eyes. They watered. Nancy coughed into her napkin. She took a deep breath, attempted a smile, and then spoke. “Maybe Holly would take you shopping for a dress? She seems to have more fashion sense than I do.”

  Lisa’s eyes widened, her head snapped up, and her gaze zeroed in on Holly. “Would you?”

  “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

  “Great!” Lisa pushed back from the table. “Can I be excused? I have to call Tiffany and Sam and tell them I’m going.”

  Bud nodded, but his face was stormy. The teen raced away, pushing buttons on her phone as she went.

  Crap! Was I like that at thirteen? Holly wondered.

  “She must take after your family, because if I’d have behaved like that at that age, my father would have given me a lesson in manners with his belt,” Bud growled out.

  “She’s not a bad kid. Just a teenager,” Holly said in the girl’s defense.

  “That’s right. She needs to separate from her mother,” Nancy agreed. “I just wish she didn’t have to do it with an axe.”

  The adults finished eating. Bud and Holly cleared the table while Nancy put away the leftovers. Then, Bud came up behind his wife, closing his fingers over her shoulders. He leaned over to kiss her neck. When he straightened up, he turned and spoke.

  “How about I take you ladies out for ice cream for dessert?”

  Nancy’s face it up. “Oh, Bud! What a good idea!”

  “I’m stuffed. Thank you, but I’ll pass,” Holly said. “I can stay here with Lisa.”

  “She could be alone for an hour,” Nancy said.

  Holly held up a palm. “No, really. I’m happy here.”

  Bud winked at her. “Thanks. I’ll bring you some butter pecan.”

  “Perfect!”

  Once the Magee’s had left the house, Holly headed for the teen’s room. She knocked.

  “Who is it?”

  “Holly.”

  “Come in,” Lisa called.

  Holly entered. “We have to talk.”

  * * * *

  Dan, Jake, and Matt stuffed themselves into a taxi and headed for the West 50’s and The Hideout. Tomorrow, they’d be on a two-week road trip, so tonight was theirs to celebrate their victory over the Cincinnati Coyotes.

  “All I ask is that you not be an asshole. Is that too much?” Jake directed his request to Matt Jackson.

  “Shut the fuck up,” the catcher said, in a low voice.

  Dan cracked up. “Sounds reasonable to me.”

  “Same goes for you,” Matt said, pointing a finger at his friend.

  “No stories. No fake names, okay? No hitting on the first woman you see. And, no hitting on Valerie!” Dan said.

  “Afraid of a little competition?” Matt asked.

  “I might be if it came from someone like Jake. But you? Uh, no!”

  Matt pushed back into the seat and frowned.

  Jake poked Dan. “Remember the time he told some chick his name was Pancho Villa?”

  “And she didn’t even know who Pancho Villa was, but Jackson wanted to sleep with her anyway,” Dan said.

  “Until he said he couldn’t speak Spanish. Then, there was no way she was going home with him,” Jake croaked out.

  “Then, he told her he was a pro baseball player, and she didn’t believe him. Remember what she said?” Dan could hardly speak he was laughing so hard.

  “Yeah, yeah! She said, and I quote, ‘next you’ll tell me you’re George Bush’.”

  At that, Jake and Dan doubled over, laughing until they cried. Even Matt couldn’t stay angry. He joined his buddies. The men were still chuckling when the cab stopped in front of the club. They piled out, tipped the driver well, and entered.

  It was dark, music was playing, and a few people were dancing. It was only ten. The night was young. When his eyes adjusted, Dan scoped the room for Valerie. He spotted her drinking at the bar with some older guy.

  Jake grabbed his arm. “Don’t be an asshole. She isn’t worth it.”

  “Not your pitching hand,” Matt said, grabbing Dan’s fisted right hand. “Come on. She’s really not worth it.”

  “Take it slow,” Jake advised.

  Dan took a breath and let his friends lead him to the bar. They ordered drafts. The pitcher moseyed down toward his girl, who had her back to him. “Hey, Val,” he said, nice and easy.

  She started, turning her head. Even in the dim light, he saw color in her cheeks. He’d caught her with her pants down, or almost. She shot him a nervous smile. “I thought you were out of town on a road trip?”

  “Obviously,” he said, connecting his gaze with hers. “Nope. We leave tomorrow. Hey, buddy, want to give us some space here?” Dan nudged his way between Valerie and the man.

  “I believe the lady is with me, buster. Why don’t you buzz off?”

  The pitcher bristled. “Val?”

  “I’m sorry, Dan. I mean, Jim here is the president of a company. He doesn’t go on the road for weeks at a time. Ya know?”

  Dan nodded. “Yeah. I know. Believe me, I know. Are you sure he is what he says he is?”

  For a moment, doubt flitted across her features.

  “Not that I have to prove anything, but here’s my card.” The stranger slipped one from his breast pocket and offered it to Dan. The pitcher took it and ripped it to pieces. He dropped the shreds into the man’s drink. “What the Hell? You’ll pay for that!” Jim got up off his seat.

  Dan tossed a twenty on the bar. “Here you go, asshole,” he said and returned to his friends.

  Anger burned in his chest. At least he’d controlled himself. Last time he’d gotten into an “incident” in a bar over a babe, he’d received a twenty-thousand dollar fine from the league. That girl hadn’t been worth it. Neither was this one.

  He took a mouthful of beer, hoping the cold brew would extinguish the rage. That double dealing bitch. How many times last year did she screw around while I was on the road? Humiliation burned inside him. He was a major league pitcher, an All Star. No woman was going to play around on him. Women threw themselves at him all the time, especially when he traveled. He’d always abstained when he had a steady girl. Not this trip. He was going to screw his brains out with every hot chick he met.

  Matt grabbed Dan’s shoulder. “Know the dictionary definition of the word ‘slut’?”

  Dan stared at his friend.

  “I just looked it up on my phone. It says ‘Valerie’.”

  Dan choked on his beer.

  Chapter Three

  Dan Alexander shoved another stick of gum in his mouth as the bus rolled out of the parking lot and headed for Kennedy Airport. From northern Manhattan, where Hingus Stadium rested, near the Hudson River, to the plane was about a half hour drive. Enough time to think about his broken social life.

  They’d be hitting Orlando, Atlanta, Miami, and Boston this trip. Three games in each of the four cities over fourteen days. A day or two of travel time as well. He was scheduled to pitch the last game in Orlando, and Miami, then the second game when they got back.

  Manager Cal Crawley stretched the pitchers out, aiming for a minimum of six days of rest for each. Sometimes things didn’t work out that way, but for now, Dan would have an easy time of it. With so little free time, he wondered how he’d squeeze in a little tomcatting. At least he could count on Matt and Jake to go with him.

  The three other infielders, Nat Owen, Skip Quincy, and Bobby Hernandez, would be hanging with him too. But the infielders had to play every day, so they had curfew and restrictions on alcohol. But no one had a restriction on getting laid. As long as you were in bed by ten, you didn’t have to be alone.

  Dan would be pitching against the Miami Sharks. They
weren’t the Nighthawks biggest rivals, but this year, they were rumored to have a strong team. He was looking forward to it. Cal Crawley went over the info he’d received on the new members. With Matt Jackson, they put together some ideas about how to pitch to the newbie opponents.

  They rolled into Orlando about sunset. Dan had barely unpacked his few belongings before Matt was knocking on his door.

  “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

  “For food or women?” Dan asked, grabbing his Nighthawks jacket.

  “Both. Come on.”

  They met up with the other infielders in the lobby, and the six hit a local restaurant for some Tex-Mex. After dinner, they returned to the hotel. Five of them were playing the next day, but not Dan. The men trudged up to their rooms, grumbling, while the pitcher headed for the bar, looking for some action.

  He planted his butt on a stool and ordered a beer, wondering what to do next, when a woman sat down at the piano. He moved his drink to a table near the music. Loneliness swept over him. This was the first time in a year he didn’t have a woman to go home with, and he didn’t like it. Before Valerie, it had been Anna. And Jesse before her. None of them had been serious. He had been a player, and had liked it that way.

  A redhead wearing too much makeup sidled up to him. Dan guessed she was a hooker. He’d never been with a prostitute and didn’t intend to break that record now.

  “Hey, big guy, how are ya?” she asked.

  His gaze swept over her curves. She was nicely put together and well displayed.

  “My name’s Gloria, what’s yours?” She stuck out her hand.

  “Dan,” he said, returning the shake.

  “Never seen you before. You new here? In town on a sales call?”

  “Nope. I play baseball. Got a game tomorrow.”

  “A pro, eh? Cool. I love athletes.” She moved closer.