by Marti Shane
He thanked her between chuckles, the audience firing back up. She tapped her note cards against her desk, waiting for the audience to settle down.
“Your teammates adore you,” she started. “We heard they nominated you for the sexiest athlete.” Jake shook his head, knowing she had something up her sleeve. He should’ve seen this coming, of course the guys would give her a hand.
“They do.” He pointed the shirtless shot behind her head. “That’ll be hanging in their lockers next week.” Might as well fire the shots now, because they’d be relentless next week.
“Posters in your lockers, that’s so…mature.” Patti said. “Who do you have in yours?”
“Chase,” he replied instantly, repaying his friend in advance.
“Is it like a waist up shot, full body?” Patti went along.
“He had it made special for me, laying naked on a bearskin rug.” He earned applause as Patti aimed her note cards towards the screen ahead.
“Chase sent us the nomination package he put together. Take a look.”
A montage of photos replaced his, Chase the obvious source. It started with a picture of him sleeping on the bus, mouth wide open. The audience laughed themselves into stitches as they scrolled through the half-dozen shots of him being him with Chase. All the shots were the unattractive kind you snap and delete because your eyes were half-closed or your mouth was full of food, or you could see straight up your nose. The last one was a video of them doing their sexy dance on the field after a snap from third to first.
“So, this is obviously photo shopped,” Patti suggested, when his photo reappeared.
“Yeah.” He laughed. “They tried to make me look funnier.” Patti tossed off her top note card to the floor, and he hoped the next question had something to do with baseball.
“You guys are forever cutting up.” She aimed her cards at the screen again, talking through the muted clip. “You guys are trying to get the other dugout to do the wave.” He recognized the clip, his dugout starting the wave and the camera scanning to the bullpen. “Yankees suck at the wave.” Patti pointed to the screen. “Watch how they all stand up but no one sits back down. Oh wait, that’s because they just won the game.”
The next clip rolled, this time he and Chase doing yoga in the infield. The coach of the opposing team was in the process of getting tossed, and they fell into a mock yoga routine. They were in downward dog and stretched into a warrior pose on opposite legs but surprisingly in sync.
“You can get the DVD,” he sold the audience. “If you order in the next five minutes, it comes with free yoga cleats.”
“Can we put the number at the bottom of the screen?” Patti went along, tossing another card to the floor. “Is yoga your secret to staying calm?” she asked.
“Those are the only poses I know,” he admitted, wiping his hands down his new jeans and missing his care-free antics with Chase.
“Seriously, you’ve got nerves of steel.” Patti pointed back to the screen. “First major league at bat and you slam it right into the stands.” The clip plays, but he’d seen it a thousand times before. “I like the way you had a smile on your face before you even swing,” she pointed out, making the crowd laugh.
“I was happy,” he explained, not wanting to be arrogant. He knew he had his first grand slam the second the ball left the pitcher’s hand. Nerves weren’t a thing when he was standing over home plate. He laughed with Patti as they watched him circle the bases on screen, and they showed his parents in the stands.
“That smile says ‘I just got paid,’” she teased and he remembered thinking the same thing.
“Nah. I was still in the minors so they gave me my twelve hundred dollars for the month and sent me home.”
“Did you get to keep the uniform?”
“Nope. I thought I’d get like a trophy or something.”
“Twelve hundred a month?” Patti whistled at the minor salary. “Now you make three times that every time you’re at bat.”
“It’s a better life in the majors,” Jake said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “You know, I was so excited when I hit that Grand Slam. I flew through Atlanta to get back to Seattle.”
“Because you’re from Atlanta?”
“I wanted to sign the wall at Sluggers, but she said I couldn’t sign because I wasn’t in the Majors.”
“What? Did you pull out your phone and show her your YouTube?”
“I did, but she was like ‘I’ll cook you a burger and you can sign it next year.’” His chest felt heavy among all the laughter as he missed his friend Sloane.
“They’re picky about the wall,” Pattie agreed. “They wouldn’t let me sign it either, so I tried to sign my chair,” she said, acting out the crime. “Can you believe they called security?” she asked the audience at large.
“Yeah,” Jake said. “You’re a Yankees fan.” He got a few boos from the New Yorkers, but mostly laughs.
“I thought that, too,” Patti went along. “They’re in Braves territory so I was like rude, but whatever.” She points to the screen again, a snapshot from yesterday of him and Otis with fans. “There’s like fifty Ranger’s fans and no security in sight.”
“They were there. They were holding the camera,” he said. “They said ‘Hi.’” Patti waved into the camera, pretending to say hi back as the audience laughed.
“Please tell me Otis wasn’t there for your autograph.”
“Nah, he just asked me to sign for my check.”
“Was that the first time you met him? You’re from Georgia, right?”
“I am, but it’s a pretty big state.” Jake laughed. “He’s like legendary in Atlanta.”
“And you’re a traitor?” Patti coughed, making him laugh. “For real? Are you guys pals?”
“I met him a few months back,” Jake explained, knowing the conversation was eventually going to Sam. “He threatened to break my legs.” Patti sat back, exaggerating her contemplation of the picture on screen.
“You’ve come a long way since then.”
“The threat’s still out there, but now it’s just my fingers.”
“You’re growing on him, obviously,” she razzed him, voice full of humor.
“Hopefully.”
“Why do you make him so violent?”
“Sam’s his goddaughter.”
“Sam’s your girl?”
“Woman,” he corrected, earning a few whistles from the crowd. The viral video queued up next and he wasn’t surprised. Sam was right about the digital footprint of the women at the bar. She meant snap a few pics and play nice, but he wanted the world to know he was hers.
“Woman,” Patti repeated. “You guys hanging out later for Valentine’s Day?”
“Every day is Valentine’s Day.”
“That’s a good line.” She turned to the camera. “Honey, did you hear that? Every day is Valentine’s Day, but today you get chocolate.”
“We’re supposed to get ‘em chocolate?”
“Chocolate…Ducati…” She threw her last note card to the ground. “Anyone who hasn’t been under a rock knows what you gave Sam.” When the crowd settled down from cheers, Patti set the stage. “Imagine being by yourself at a bar on Valentine’s Day, and a really hot guy comes and sit down next to you.”
“Happens to me all the time,” Jake interrupted. Patti took a second, getting her composure.
“You think he might be into you and then he’s like I’m gonna ring up my girl.”
“Woman,” he interrupted again.
“And then he’s like, can you film this?” She acts out tentative holding up the phone to film. “Not only do I want to crush your dreams, but I’d like for you to film it.”
Jake’s cheeks hurt from laughing, his eyes watering as the clip played. He’d watched it ten times this morning. No one understood the significance of the gift, but he liked the image it painted of Sam. The world got a glimpse of her allowing herself to be free.
“I like that you expla
ined a Ducati is a bad-ass motorcycle to the chicks at the bar. I’m pretty sure they thought it was a diamond cut of some kind.” She took a pause as the audience laughed. “I was concerned at first. You either had it all wrong or you’re dating Carey Hart.”
“Oh, I got it right.” He smiled, knowing he had.
“You know those chicks bought out every crotch rocket in Atlanta yesterday, right? The ERs are full of road rash cases from them trying to ride. What does her godfather have to say about you buying her a motorcycle?”
“He’s good with it. She can handle anything.”
“How long have you guys been together?”
“Almost five months.”
“So do Ducati’s last forever?”
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
“You’re growing on me Jake Jaeger. I think you’re sexy after all.” The house band started and Patti wrapped it up with the audience. Jake was led back to the Green Room where his manager, Mario, sat grinning ear to ear.
“That was great.” He stood, tucking his phone back in his pocket. Like Sam, he lived on the thing. “Why didn’t you tell me about Sam?” Jake shrugged, afraid of the real answer to his question. “I gotta tell you, it’s hard to imagine the designer suit I met in Boston on a motorcycle.”
“Good, don’t.”
“Whoa.” Mario’s hands flew up at Jake’s warning.
Jake picked up his coat, deciding to wait to check his phone. Sam hadn’t texted or called since this morning, but he knew she had her hands full. His mood was going back to shitty and being on ignore wasn’t going to make it better. He was anxious for his season to start, ready to hang out with Chase and the guys. The show made him miss his friends and realize how absorbed he’d been in Sam.
“Am I gonna see Sam at spring training?” Mario asked, as they climbed in the back seat.
“Maybe a game or two.” She hadn’t brought it up since Christmas, so neither had he.
“You guys rooming with Clint again?”
“Yeah.” Clint, who played first base, owned a house in Scottsdale so his wife and their six kids could come with him. Mario arranged for him to host Jake and Chase the first week of spring training five years ago, and they’d bunked with him every year since. He knew Sam was welcome to stay there when she came out. The shit raked his nerves. If they missed a weekend that turned into two, then three…
“You alright, man?” Mario asked. No. He wanted to hop on a plane right now and fly home. He had less than two weeks with Sam, a pit in his gut telling him she wasn’t giving him more than the few days a month she promised. He could survive six months to give her the space to work it out, but he sure as hell didn’t want to. “Trouble in Paradise already?”
Leaving Paradise, aka Promise Lake, was the problem. Things were near perfect in Paradise. He liked waking her up in the mornings, her grumpy protests turning to satisfied moans. They had a routine of breakfast, dishes, workouts and shower sex. He didn’t know if they’d find the same fit in Texas because, in Promise, circumstances made things fall into place. Remembering he’d been asked a question, he shook away the thoughts.
“Nah, just not sure what happens next.”
“Is she working in Atlanta?”
“She worked for Jax up until December, and she’s been working remotely from Mason’s old office.”
“Did she move in with you?”
“I’ve been staying with her in Promise Lake.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t mentioned her. You’re living together and using the L word.”
“She was in a car wreck the day after Sloane passed.” He scrubbed over his hair as his nerves prickled his scalp at the memory. “Jax and I were scoping out a job at the lake. It’d been raining for days and the bridge washed out. The car took a beating, knocking into about a dozen trees down the hillside before spinning right past us into the lake.”
“Holy Shit!”
“Right?” he agreed. “She was pretty shook up when we pulled her out, and her brother was banged up pretty bad.” He talked faster, wanting the vivid memory to fade. “Come to find out, I was staying in her cabin.”
“Talk about twisted fates.”
“Believe me, I’ve given that shit some thought.”
“Sloane always liked you and you fell for Sam back in Boston.” Six months ago he would’ve argued that, but now he knew it was true.
“How’s Kimmi?” he asked, changing the subject. “You get her something shiny for Valentine’s day?”
“Always.” Mario smiled the way he usually did when he talked about his wife.
“She get tired of you traveling?”
“Sometimes I think she looks forward to it,” he joked. Jake wondered if Sam was thinking the same. She could’ve flown out to New York, but maybe she was wanting her space. They lived in less than five-hundred square feet. “You worried about it?” Mario asked, reading his thoughts. “Have you guys talked about it?”
“Not much. She’s got work and I’m trying not to put too much pressure on her.” The admission felt awesome. He didn’t realize how much he needed to talk this shit out. “I want her to be with me as much as possible, but in reality that’s going to be a few days a month.”
“This season, maybe.” Mario shrugged. “Kimmi held on to her career for two years, and she still consults.”
“I don’t want Sam to quit.”
“I didn’t want Kimmi to quit either. Her passion for her work was one of the things that attracted me to her.”
“Same.”
“She helped me branch out on my own, invested her talent in me. I guess I’m saying things change the longer you stay together.” He gazed out his window, taking in the big city lights. “As long as you still miss each other, you know everything’s okay.”
“Sucks you missed Valentine’s Day,” Jake offered. “But this was your stupid idea.”
“Thanks for paying my mortgage.” He laughed. “Besides, every day is Valentine’s Day. Right?”
The SUV pulled to the curb of The Royal, the five-star accommodations courtesy of the show. Missing Sam, Jake checked his phone. Nothing. Or, at least nothing from Sam. Then his screen lit up with a text the same time Mario’s rang.
Sam: That’s Kimmi on the phone
What the hell? He looked up, Mario’s forehead creased in concern.
Sam: She’s waiting for him in the lounge. Shhh. Tell him you’re headed to bed.
He tapped a quick K on the screen before climbing from the car. Mario climbed out behind him, telling Kimmi they’d just got back to the hotel. Two doors were opened by men in immaculate uniforms despite the late hour. Warm air blew down on them, fighting the frigid air trying to follow them inside. Mario ended his call, telling Kimmi he’d call her back from the room. Shit. Wasn’t he supposed to be going to the lounge?
“Everything okay?” Mario asked, reading the expression on Jake’s face.
“I’m going to bed,” He repeated Sam’s instructions like a dumbass.
“You don’t want a drink?” Mario’s eyes narrowed.
“Mr. Jaeger, you have a call at the front desk,” a uniformed man said as he approached. “Mr. Keaton, we’ve got your dry martini started for you at the bar.”
“I’ll meet you in there,” Jake lied, starting toward the front desk. His phone rang when he was out of earshot. “Sam,” he answered. “Good save.”
“Jesus, Jaeger,” she giggled over her exasperation. “How hard is it to yawn and say you’re going to bed? Aim towards the left of the desk.” He glanced back at Mario, offering a wave before he disappeared down the long corridor leading to the lounge. “Now Jaeger,” she said impatiently.
“I like you bossy.”
“Follow Jillian, the busty redhead.” He looked up, an attractive redhead lifting her chin before opening a mahogany door. The brass plate read Private and he followed her through. “I gotta go. Love you.” Sam dropped the line.
A jolt of excitement pumped through his chest, thi
nking maybe she was here. He took in the faces as he passed, the staff buzzing while standing in place. Two guys were tapping their touchscreens, making demands in their headsets, one of them showing beads of sweat on his brow. These were the concierges Jake thought.
“Watch your step.” Jillian pushed through another door, the tiled floor covered with a rubber mat. They were in the kitchen, the aroma making his stomach stir. Still no sign of Sam as he passed through stainless steel tables full of desserts. Chefs were bent over, drizzling chocolate and God knows what else over the mostly red and pink desserts. “You better save me one of those,” Jillian said over her shoulder.
“Always,” the chef said, never looking up.
“Me, too,” Jake added, making him look up. The man’s eyes widened a bit.
“Good show, man,” he said, and then returned to his work.
Jillian pushed through another door, leading to a set of stairs she conquered in her spiked heels. They were behind the scenes of what sounded like the restaurant, but then they turned into a small crowd. Sam was stunning in a silky red dress that had two strips of fabric draping dreamily over her breasts. Her lips were painted the same shade, and shaped into a pout.
“Where’s his pants?” She looked to Jillian and back to his jeans.
“Here.” Two younger guys in blazers, dropped a sheet between them and held it in place. Sam moved behind the curtain, her face laser focused with whatever was on her phone. Was she working?
“Change your pants. Hurry up.” She took a pair of pants he’d never seen before from the curtain squad and he managed the quick change. He leaned into her as he zipped up, lured by her smell. He couldn’t believe she was here, but had no idea what was going on. Stealing a quick taste of her lips, he whispered against her mouth.
“Hi,” he whispered, stealing a taste of her luscious red lips.
“Hi.” The piece in her ear whispered back in an exaggerated purr. He was just close enough to hear, and to see her cheeks heat.
The guys dropped the sheet and collected his jeans, transferring his wallet before they scurried off to their next task. The small group was shuffled further down the narrowing corridor. His hand found the bare skin on Sam’s back, falling in step with her plan.
