by Sierra Dean
Alice glanced at the group again, trying to figure out what the hell this woman was talking about, but when her gaze landed on the youngest sister, something clicked. Maybe it was the short, pixie-cut black curls, or the sweet rounded cheeks, but it was like staring into a family portrait and seeing the missing piece.
“Oh my God,” she said as realization sank in. “You’re Alex’s sisters.” Of course. He’d told her he had five sisters—the number had seemed astronomical to her at the time—and now here they were, all five of them.
That was a lot of Rosses in one place.
“That’s us.” The youngest beamed at her, looking so much like Alex it almost broke Alice’s heart. “I’m Violet. This is Ricki, Jane, Carla and Emily.” She pointed to each sister in turn. The eldest—the one who’d been elected to speak—was Jane. The blonde who kept eyeing her with poorly concealed spite was Ricki. Emily and Carla hadn’t yet offered their personalities to the conversation.
From their brief discussions about his family, she knew Violet—he called her Vi—and Ricki were the two sister he was closest with, so her attention kept returning to them. Violet seemed cheery enough, but Alice expected Ricki to shank her with a fork the moment she turned her back.
“Well, uh, not to sound rude or anything, ladies, but what exactly brings you to Lakeland?”
“You, of course.” This from Jane, her tone reminiscent of a school teacher, which she might actually have been. Alice couldn’t remember if Alex had ever told her about their professions. “It’s not like we’d drive eight hours on a Friday afternoon for fun.”
Violet smacked Jane’s arm. “Don’t make it sound so mean.”
“Maybe it should be mean,” Ricki interjected. “It’s not like she’s been great to him.”
“Both of you need to hush and let Jane speak,” Carla—the other blonde sister—said, hoisting the little boy onto her lap. “We’re not getting anywhere by bickering at each other like this.”
“That’s never stopped us before,” Ricki retorted. She’d evidently inherited the same sarcasm gene as Alex.
Emily sipped her water and smiled apologetically.
“Why don’t you pull up a chair?” Jane suggested.
“Because I’m working.”
Jane looked past Alice into the otherwise almost empty diner. Alice had to admit it was a pretty lame excuse, given how dead the evening was. “Really?” Jane raised an eyebrow.
“Can you all at least order something? If I just sit down at a table with only five waters and two milks on the bill, I think my boss will have a conniption.” Alice waved her order pad meaningfully, and all five sisters leaned over one menu simultaneously.
Once their orders had been placed and Alice had delivered the requests to the kitchen, she no longer had any obvious way to avoid the women, so she returned to the table and dragged an empty chair behind her. She left a fair bit of distance between herself and the booth, and crossed her legs and arms as if it might deflect any of their contempt. Especially Ricki’s.
“So…” Alice nodded at the table. “Did Alex send you?” It would be pretty impressive, she had to admit. Since she was ignoring all his texts and forwarding his calls straight to voicemail, this would be a unique—if somewhat creepy—workaround.
“Send us? Good Lord, no.” Jane laughed. “Do we seem like the kind of people who would up and drive a full day because our brother asked us to?”
Alice shrugged. “Well, something made you drive eight hours, so how am I supposed to know what kind of people you are? You showed up at my work unannounced. It’s kind of…” She let her voice drift, not wanting to say anything insulting.
“Nuts?” Violet offered.
“Ridiculous?” Emily said, her soft voice cutting in for the first time.
“Scary?” Ricki rounded out things, her voice cold enough to make her suggestion the most accurate right then.
“Unusual,” Alice concluded finally, hoping to get control over the situation.
Jane nodded, and as though she were a presiding judge, the other women around her got quiet. “I agree, this must seem a little out of the ordinary, but the situation itself is somewhat strange too. They say desperate times call for desperate measures, and so here we are.”
“Desperate times?” Alice had taken the pen out of her apron and was clicking the button at the end over and over, trying to relax herself. “Does this really qualify as desperate times? I mean, it’s barely even a breakup.”
“He’s miserable,” Violet said earnestly.
“And that’s your fault.” Ricki was glaring like she wanted to throttle Alice with her bare hands. That was the same look Kevin had gotten on his face when Alice had admitted Matt didn’t want anything to do with her after she got pregnant. It was the kind of blind, homicidal dedication only siblings could muster for one another.
“How is it my fault?” Alice couldn’t help letting her voice hitch up with anger. “I’m sorry if you think he farts rainbows and unicorns or whatever, but he’s not perfect. And things just didn’t work out.”
Violet, who was sitting closest to Alice, scooted forward and leaned close as if she might take Alice’s hand but thought better of it when Alice moved her chair backwards.
“I know we might seem like a biased audience.”
“No kidding.”
“Hear me out.” Violet’s voice was quiet, lacking the argumentative punch of Ricki’s. “He didn’t send us. We came on our own because we thought maybe you’d listen to us.”
“You’re not giving me much of a choice.”
“And if Alex could be here instead—if he thought you’d listen—I’m sure he would be,” Jane said.
The baby in a carrier next to Emily began to fuss, and she rocked it, humming quietly before giving the infant a bottle. Something about the presence of the children softened Alice to the sisters. Being a mother herself she often felt connected to women with kids. It lowered her guard somewhat.
“If you’re coming to apologize on his behalf—”
“You’re implying he has something to apologize for,” Ricki interrupted. “Maybe if your head wasn’t so far up your a—”
“Ricki,” Jane snapped. “If you’re not going to be helpful, don’t talk.”
“I think someone should point out she’s not blameless.”
“It’s not a contest of blame. We’re here to help, not make things worse.” Jane put a hand on Ricki’s thigh and stared her sister right in the eye. If Jane wasn’t a teacher, she’d make a hell of a hostage negotiator. Ricki leaned back and grumbled but didn’t say anything else. It was a good thing Alice wasn’t trying to win over Alex’s sisters because she thought getting on Ricki’s good side would probably take a miracle.
“From what we’ve gotten out of Alex since he left Florida, we gather you thought he might be responsible for the blog story getting leaked.”
“You guys read that too, huh?”
“Oh, sweetie. Google Alerts.” Jane smiled apologetically, as if she felt bad for knowing the details of Alice’s life.
Alice’s face fell. She was hoping it hadn’t gotten outside a limited circle, but clearly the smoochie photo had made the rounds well beyond the baseball community. She was surprised she hadn’t gotten messages from old high school friends to tease her or probe for more gossip.
Actually, there was a good chance she had, but she hadn’t logged into her Facebook account since the whole thing had happened.
“Great.” Alice sighed.
“It wasn’t so bad. Looked pretty innocent, honestly.” Violet was trying to make Alice feel better, and for some odd reason it was sort of working. She didn’t want to feel better though. She didn’t want to like these people. Alice just wanted any and every trace of Alex gone from her life.
Was that too much to ask?
The Ross sisters clearly thought it was.
“So, naturally, you’re here to tell me Alex had nothing to do with the story leaking.” Alice had already
mostly convinced herself of Alex’s innocence, but what was the harm in hearing them out? She wouldn’t mind being reminded of Alex as the man she’d fallen for. Since he’d left she’d told herself she was fine with being single because there was no such thing as nice guys.
But there were, weren’t there? There had to be, otherwise why did anyone bother falling in love? And if he wasn’t a bad guy, if he wasn’t the villain of the story, maybe she didn’t need to feel so stupid for letting him into her life.
“Oh, he’s definitely to blame for what happened,” Jane said, taking a sip from her water at possibly the most dramatic point in her sentence. “The same way you are. He was in that car with you, and he was kissing you just the same as you were kissing him. So in that sense, you were both doing a piss-poor job of keeping things a secret, if that was your goal. But outside that, he’s innocent.”
Alice chewed her lip. An incessant ding noise from the kitchen called her attention away from the big reveal. “Hold on.” She got up and went into the prep alley to collect their meals, taking far more time than she normally would to load up the tray.
This was it, exactly what she’d wanted without allowing herself to admit she desired it. Now she could totally forgive him and not feel stupid about letting herself fall for him. But it didn’t change the outcome. She’d still lost her job.
Did she have to lose him too, though?
The sisters weren’t an unbiased audience, so of course they would take Alex’s side. But for them to drive all the way from Georgia to state Alex’s case? They must really believe he loved her to go to the effort. And they seemed, by and large, to be sensible women.
But if that was the case, and she’d stubbornly ignored him for this long, why would he want to take her back?
Did she want to be taken back?
“Hey, Alice? You’re a Felons fan, aren’t you?” One of the line cooks got her attention as she re-spaced the plates on her delivery tray.
“Oh shut up,” she replied, assuming it was another joke about her involvement with Alex.
“What? Huh? Geez, sorry. We just have the game going back here. Seems like things are getting interesting. Thought you might want to know.”
Chapter Thirty-One
In the dugout, Alex grumbled to himself as he pulled on his pads. “Fucking tool.” He rifled through his cubby for a towel, wiping dusty sweat off his face.
“What’s that guy’s problem, anyway?” Miles asked, already sitting on the bench, his arm wrapped up in an identical towel. “Did you see the way he got in my face with his home run?”
“Yeah, kid. Everyone saw that. It was a dick move. Don’t let it get to you.”
“I say you hit him,” Chet suggested, sitting on Miles’s opposite side. “Turnabout is fair play, man. Gotta show him you won’t stand for that bullshit.” He chewed a wad of gum, punctuating his statement of revenge with a big pink bubble.
“You think?” Miles stared at the field where Matt lurked behind third base, looking like an asshole even from a distance.
Alex was never a fan of hitting a batter to teach him a lesson. Sure, it was a move as old as baseball itself, and he’d seen it used many times, but still, it probably wasn’t a great idea to tell Miles to do it.
No matter how badly he’d like to see Matt get his comeuppance.
“Nah, just leave it alone,” Alex told him. “Guy’s a dick, he’s always going to be a dick.”
Tucker came and filled the seat on Alex’s other side. “What are we talking about?”
Chet snapped his gum. “I told the kid he should bean Hernandez.”
Tucker spit sunflower seeds onto the dugout floor and leaned back, thoughtfully contemplating the suggestion.
“He did get in your face,” he said to Miles. “He’s old enough to know better.” As if rookies would get more allowance than veterans if they watched their home runs.
“He’s been trash-talking me all game,” Alex admitted, immediately regretting the confession because Miles turned his full attention to the catcher, eyes wide.
“What?”
Well, he was on a roll now. No sense in hiding the truth. “Yeah. He’s Alice’s ex. He’s been badmouthing her, getting in my face about her being his sloppy seconds or whatever.”
“He’s talking smack about your woman?” Miles was clearly astonished.
The nuances of a breakup didn’t seem to matter here. Whether or not Alex and Alice were still together, she apparently remained his woman in the eyes of the team.
Rather than explain the mistake, Alex just answered, “Yeah.”
“Fuck that guy,” Chet said.
“Fuck who?” Ramon asked, coming into the dugout after his strikeout.
“Matt Hernandez,” Tucker replied, doing nothing to cool the fire of the situation. Now half the dugout was bustling together, and though some of them were coming in at the middle of Alex’s story, they’d all seen how Matt behaved when he hit the home run. There was no sympathy for the Mets player among the Felons.
“Aw hell, man.” Miles shifted forward on the bench, his energy obviously amped up. “I’m going to do it. You ever done it, Tucker?”
Alex glanced at his best friend, and Tucker’s mismatched eyes met his briefly. “Yeah,” Tucker admitted. “I’ve done it.”
That was all Miles needed to hear. He was practically bouncing in his seat, ready to go. Alex gave Tucker a wary look.
“What?” the older pitcher asked, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You think it’s a good idea? Sending the kid out there on a vengeance mission?”
Tucker shrugged. “It’s as much for him as it is for you. Besides, Hernandez has it coming. The guy is a douche of the highest order. Baseball justice is a fastball inside. You know that as well as I do.” Tucker mussed Alex’s hair then handed him his mask.
Baseball justice. Alex had to admit it had a pleasing ring to it. And where he could get arrested for punching Matt, there was no clear rule on Miles hitting Matt with a ball. Sure, someone was going to get thrown out afterwards, but no one would have a criminal record at the end of the day.
“Make it clean,” Alex cautioned. “No headshots.”
Miles nodded enthusiastically.
When Matt came to bat in the fourth inning, it was clear he wasn’t just trying to bait Alex, he was straight-up invested in being an asshole of the millionth degree. Any sympathy Alex had felt for what was coming dissipated completely.
“What do you think, Ross? Think I hit another home run, then maybe call up Alice and see if she wants to play? She’s done with you now, isn’t she? Maybe she wants to roll around with a real man again.”
“Eye on the ball, Matt,” Alex mumbled, then threw down the signal for a fastball.
He held his glove up, getting into a proper stance, as if he thought there would be a catch to make, but when Miles loosed the ball—a hard, high fastball—it was obvious it wasn’t coming anywhere near Alex’s glove. Matt made the realization a moment too late and turned inward to the plate to avoid getting hit on his dominant arm.
Still, the ball made a satisfying meaty thud when it hit him.
“For fuck’s sake.” Matt threw his bat into the dirt. “Did you see that?” He turned to the home-plate umpire, but the ump shook his head.
“Looked like it slipped to me. Take your base.” Any time a batter was hit by a pitch it was an automatic walk. From the dugout Alex could actually hear the clamor from Matt’s teammates, calling it a dirty shot. Which it was, naturally, but Alex gathered the umpire had been none too impressed with Matt’s antics in the first.
The Mets field manager came out of the dugout to have a word—or more accurately a one-way screaming match—with the umpire, and Alex took his opportunity to jog out to the mound to convene with Miles.
“Did you get things out of your system?” Alex asked.
“Felt pretty good. He still getting in your face?”
He should have said no, but it wasn’t in his na
ture to lie. Instead he said, “Don’t worry about me.”
Miles nodded, but the look on his face suggested he was still interested in what Matt had to say to Alex. This wasn’t going to be a simple end to things, Alex realized. The next several innings were about to get very, very messy.
The home-plate umpire joined them, with Chuck Calvin not far behind.
“Look, kid,” the ump began. “I know he’s a jerk, and I know you’re not happy with how he handled that home run, but let’s not play dirty ball here, okay? Keep it clean, keep it fair.”
“Ball slipped,” Miles said.
“Yeah, yeah. Well, you keep those hands dry, got me? Next time there’s no warnings. And you, Calvin. You keep these boys in line, you got me? I don’t need any more of Gary Burgess’s spit in my face, okay?”
“Gotcha.” Chuck nodded, and then slapped Miles on the arm. “You’re doing great, kid.”
It wasn’t exactly permission, but it wasn’t a chastising, either.
The rest of the fourth and the fifth were clean, fair innings with no signs of reciprocation. Alex half-expected the Mets pitcher to ding one of the Felons batters. It wouldn’t be out of line, not in terms of the unwritten rules. But maybe the opposing team was about as fond of Matt’s antics as they were.
Top of the sixth found Matt up to bat again, and Alex couldn’t resist. “How’s your shoulder treating you?” he asked.
“About as good as your girlfriend’s mouth is going to be treating my cock after the game,” Matt retorted. “Oh wait. It already has.”
Alex wasn’t terribly proud of what he did next, but something clicked in his head. The part of him that might have stayed calm and rational went silent, and the little devil on his shoulder said, This asshole has it coming.
He called for a ball inside.
Miles looked surprised but didn’t shake him off, instead giving a slight nod of consent. Since Alex had been the voice of reason up to that point, Miles was clearly using him as the barometer of how to proceed. If Alex said hit, Miles was saying how hard.
