Ace's Wild: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (The Beasts of Baseball Book 2)

by Alice Ward

  When I was in his arms again, held tight against his chest, I allowed my eyes to close.

  I didn’t worry about tomorrow; it was an entire a day away. I didn’t worry about yesterday; it was no longer here. I allowed myself to enjoy the now. This man lying beside me for however long that would be.

  As I drifted into sleep, I prayed that I could have this moment for the rest of my life. Even if it was only in my dreams.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ace

  Something was stalking me through the woods. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t hear it or smell it, but it was there. The touch of its gaze burning my skin.

  I ran, branches slicing my cheeks.

  “Leave me alone,” I screamed when it’s hot breath caressed my neck.

  There was a rumble, like thunder after a lightning strike. But this was a laugh, the evil in it causing gooseflesh to break out on my arms. One word followed. Never.

  The earth opened up beneath me and I tumbled down into a darkness deeper than black. I screamed but no sounded rebounded around me.

  “Someone help me,” I yelled, reaching out into the inky surrounding. I screamed when something reached back.

  Claws sank into my hand, digging into the bones, and I was pulled in the monster’s direction. But it wasn’t a monster anymore. The woman before me was beautiful. Glowing.

  She opened her palm, revealing a pile of white powder.

  “I can help you, Ace. Just give me your soul.”

  Before my eyes, the beauty melted away, like wax from a candle. My dad stood before me now, throwing the powder in my face.

  “See, I knew you’d fuck up,” he said. “You can’t even play ball without stuffing something up your nose. You’re a phony. The worst kind of liar. You’ve fooled everyone so far, except me.”

  His eyes changed first, then his teeth, then his skin. His bones lost their flesh as his hand reached for me. Closer. Closer.

  I jerked awake just as he touched me, my breath heaving from my lungs.

  Holly moaned beside me, turning in my arms, but didn’t wake up. Good.

  I slid out of the bed and rolled onto my feet, careful not to wake her from her peaceful slumber. I envied her for her comfort, her peace. Pulling on some clothes and a cap, I was desperate for some air.

  Demons raged through my mind, pain screeched down my spine like nails on a chalkboard. Destruction was suddenly the only light I could see at the end of my tunnel. I ran from the laughter of my father. Ran from the people I’d let down. Out of the room, then outside, I ran, not stopping until my lungs were burning from the cold.

  I dropped onto a step leading into some store, my face in my hands.

  Holly.

  I was torn, broken. I wasn’t even sure I was capable of actually loving someone. I proved I could feel it, or she proved it to me. But loving someone, really loving them? Well, that was a real job, one I wasn’t sure I was up to or understood.

  Lifting my head, I looked around. The streets were dark with the exception of the neon lights of a convenient store about a half-block up, the liquor store sign blinking next to it.

  Liquor, yes that could calm me down, help me sleep, and get me back into the bed with that perfect woman. The woman I should be worshipping, the one I should be dropping to my knees in front of, thanking God for sending her into my life.

  I walked down the dimly lit street towards the blinking liquor sign instead, hating myself for my weakness. Hated my dad for dying. Hated not being with my team.

  For the first time in years, I would listen to a ballgame instead of playing in it. I wondered if the Beasts would even miss me or if Nate would do a good job in my spot. I hated that thought, of someone else standing between second and third. I just wanted to get back on the field, the only place I ever dominated, succeeded, or even mattered.

  Out here in the real world, I was nothing but a fuck up. It scared the living shit out of me to grow old and get booted out of the league. Maybe I was self-sabotaging. The drugs, the women, the booze, it was all a way to stay in control, even if it looked as if control had slipped from my grasp long ago. If I made the choice to fuck up my career, then no one else got to play God and take it away from me.

  The bells chimed over the door as I let myself into the store. “Can I help you?” the man behind the counter asked when I walked inside.

  “No, thanks.” I smiled and walked towards the front of the store where they kept the good stuff. I didn’t need any help in a liquor store. I knew exactly where everything was, down to the small airline bottles, not the ones already filled, but the empty ones you can fill with your own poison. You had to ask for those, a specialty product that usually didn’t sit on the shelves. “I’ll take a pint of Patrón.” I pointed to the locked display where the smooth tequila was tucked away, only to be brought out for those who asked, for those who, when they buckled under the pressure of pain, life, love, wanted it to go down smooth.

  The man unlocked the display, grabbed the bottle, and slid it into a brown paper bag, as if cops didn’t know what might be hiding inside.

  I paid for my bottle and stepped outside, my mouth watering, knowing the elixir was so close to entering my bloodstream. I twisted the lid off and took a long gulp to drown out the insults from my dad, the warnings from my coach, the cries of heartbroken women, and the disappointment of my mother.

  “Hey, you’re Ace Newman,” a tall redheaded kid wearing what looked like a farmer cap pointed in my direction. “Yeah. You are. You’re Ace motherfuckin’ Newman.” The kid repeated himself, only louder.

  “Yup. That’s me. Ace motherfuckin’ Newman.” I smirked and took another long drink from the bottle.

  “No fuckin’ way. What are you doing here?” a tall, skinny blond boy asked.

  “Dad died. Bummer.” My laugh was bitter, even to my own ears.

  “No shit? That sucks, man. I’m sorry.” The redhead with the weird ball cap offered his condolences.

  I took another drink. “You didn’t know my dad. No need to be sorry.”

  A thick boy, shorter than the other two wore a red striped shirt that reminded me of Where’s Waldo. He was quiet, not interested in my celebrity, and for some reason, was the only one of the three who intrigued me.

  “What about you, Waldo? Do you think it sucks that my dad died?” I pointed at the boy so he wasn’t lost with my name change, unless his name actually was Waldo, and in that case, it would be fuckin’ hilarious.

  “Me?” he pointed to his chest. The other two boys laughed, slapping each other on the shoulder.

  “That’s fuckin’ awesome,” the redhead roared.

  Waldo ignored his friends and looked me in the eye. “No. If your dad was a dick, then it doesn’t suck that he died. It sucks that he didn’t die sooner. And dying during opening day week? Well, that makes him a dick, so even if he was the perfect dad, he fucked up in the end, didn’t he?”

  Woah! I knew I liked this kid. No, not kid, I realized. All these boys were in their twenties.

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” I offered him a drink from my bottle.

  “Don’t drink,” he said coolly, patting his pocket.

  I offered the bottle to the other two boys, who quickly took their turn at spreading their germs across the rim of my bottle. “Shit, that’s the bomb right there yo,” Funny farmer hat boy said.

  “What’s with the ‘yo,’ Farmer Fred?” I asked, retrieving my bottle and wiping the rim before downing another two or three shots.

  “Oh fuck no, that’s crazy shit,” he squawked, slapping his knee as he laughed like he was in the nineteen forties.

  “What’s my name?” the tall, skinny, blond asked, his chin pushed over Waldo’s shoulder to get his face in full view. It wasn’t a great face, and his laugh was even worse, similar to a snort.

  “I don’t know, Butthead. What is your name?”

  The boys were obviously having a good time. Waldo looked three sheets to the wind to not be a
drinker. “What are you boys out doing tonight, besides looking for trouble and Waldo, obviously?” I motioned to my new friend, Waldo the intellect.

  “We’re headed to a party up the road. We just came in for supplies.” Farmer Fred replied, obviously the leader of this band of misfits. “Man, you guys were robbed last season. I hope you take it all the way this season.”

  “You boys even old enough to drink?” I asked, sizing them up, trying to determine an accurate guess on their age.

  “Oh yeah,” Farmer Fred said. “I’m twenty-four. Waldo here was twenty-one last month. Butt Head is the old one, twenty-five.”

  Fuck. I remember when twenty-five was old too.

  “Gotta get our panty droppers,” Farmer Fred announced and walked into the store. Butt Head pulled a joint from his front pocket and lit it as he moved to the side of the store. “You wanna hit this?” he asked, passing it my way.

  “Fuck yes I do.” I took the joint and held it to my lips, sucking the smooth smoke into my mouth and holding it in my throat for a moment before letting it out. “That’s pretty good shit for around here.” I nodded, coughed a little and took another swig from my bottle.

  “Man, you should totally come party with us.” Butt Head finally had a voice.

  I turned and looked back at the hotel, then back at the boys. Going with them for a little while wouldn’t hurt anything.

  “Are you asking just so you won’t be the oldest anymore?” I joked.

  “There’s usually quite a few old dudes gonna be there. The Chesters. They come to scope out on all the hot young girls that show up,” Waldo said with little tone to his voice. It was hard to read that boy, but I still thought of him as my favorite.

  “So am I a Chester?” I hit the joint again when Butt Head passed it to me.

  “No. You got too much money to be a Chester. You’re more like a pimp baller.” Butt Head put in his two cents.

  “I got the shit, man.” Farmer Fred returned with the large paper bag held up over his head.

  “Wow, you three are taking quite a bit of alcohol. You always have to work that hard to get pussy?” I asked.

  “I don’t like drunk pussy,” Waldo announced. Just fuckin’ brilliant this one.

  “We’re trying to talk Ace into coming with us.” Butt Head told Farmer Fred.

  “Holy fuckin’ shit! That would be awesome!”

  “This will be the blowout of the century,” Butt Head yelled out to the sky.

  “You wanna come?” Waldo asked, and I thought I saw what looked like loneliness behind the hope gleaming there.

  I did need to blow off some steam, and these kids seemed okay. Holly was sound asleep, so what could it hurt?

  “I don’t know, fellas. My girl’s in the hotel, and she might wake up and need me.”

  “Ace Newman has a girl? No fuckin’ way.” Butt Head shook his head in disbelief that I could settle down. Maybe he was right.

  “Do you party?” Waldo asked, pulling a baggy of white powder from his pocket. Need sank its claws into me on sight.

  “Indeed I do, boys.”

  My veins ached for the drug in Waldo’s pocket. I needed that boost, that feeling of invincibility and pure adrenaline.

  “Where is this party?”

  I didn’t see the boys drive up and figured they were on foot, but I wasn’t playing how many drunk twenty-somethings can you get in Ace’s Porsche game again.

  “Just around the corner, literally,” Farmer Fred said.

  “Okay, as long as I get the party favors in Waldo’s pocket, I’ll go along.” I was already feeling the invincibility flowing, just knowing how close I was to snorting this pain away.

  “I can’t believe Ace Newman is coming to a party with us,” Butt Head declared. I can’t either boys, I can’t either.

  The party was literally right around the corner, not even an entire block’s walk. I felt better about being so close to the hotel, so I could always leave once I was ready.

  “I bet you’re like a pussy magnet?” Farmer Fred whispered as we walked up to the door.

  “Oh yes,” I laughed. “It’s a curse.”

  “Okay, Waldo, hand it over.” I held out my hand, my palms sweating with greed.

  Inside, I was instantly noticed, and girls swarmed me from every direction. It was like a Baskin Robbins, a flavor for every taste and size. Holy shit, I was getting old. These girls looked so fuckin’ young.

  I sat down next to what I thought might be one of the Chesters, a man around my age but without money. He spread out his lines on the clear table, so I opted to use the one next to him. “Do ya mind?” I asked.

  Waldo stared at me as I worked out the chunks into smooth, fluffy powder and then created four long lines. I handed Waldo a rolled up hundred-dollar bill and gave him first choice. He snorted up his lines and handed it back. My hands were shaking with need by the time it was my turn.

  I inhaled, and it exploded in my head, instantly making everything alright again. This stuff wasn’t half bad. I played with the pile of powder in front of me, snorting a couple lines here and there, just small ones, nothing crazy as the music pounded all around me.

  I didn’t want a repeat of Daytona Beach. I really did hit bottom there. It made me realize how bad my problem was, how right Holly was. I wanted to kick this. I wanted to be clean and try to be the man Holly deserves. I just needed this crutch tonight. Hell, my dad just died. Nobody could blame me, right?

  I glanced over to Waldo and saw him watching a girl, desire in the poor kid’s eyes.

  “You like her?” I asked him, and he turned red, embarrassed at being caught.

  “Yeah,” he finally said.

  “Go get her,” I encouraged him and he immediately shook his head. I looked back at the girl and when she looked in our direction, I motioned for her to come over.

  Waldo groaned and seemed to shrink in his seat as the Barbie-doll looking girl skipped over. Her skirt was so short, I could smell her.

  “Are you really a famous baseball player?” she asked.

  I smirked. “Yes darlin’. I’m Ace Newman, Badass of Baseball.”

  “So, you play with Calvin Malone?” she asked.

  “Sure, he’s actually a good friend of mine.”

  She looked impressed.

  “Another good friend of mine is Waldo here.” I motioned to the red-faced kid.

  She looked at him with more than a little interest. “Really?”

  “Really good friend. You should get to know him.” I stood up. “Take my seat.”

  She sat down, and I almost laughed when Waldo began to pitch a small tent in his pants. It was quite possibly the first time any girl had looked at him that way.

  I opened my wallet and handed Waldo three hundred dollar bills. “Take this girl somewhere nice, treat her good,” I instructed. I’m not sure whose eyes lit up more, hers or his.

  “Thanks, man.”

  I held out a fist, and he bumped it. “No, thank you.”

  I gave him a wink and headed toward the door.

  The sun was already coming up, so I grabbed two large coffees and a pack of chocolate donuts from the convenience store and headed back towards the hotel, feeling much better. I hesitated outside of Holly’s room but went on to my own.

  I unlocked my door, went inside and stripped out of my clothes, still feeling the energy from my buzz. The last thing I needed was for Holly to smell weed on me, or booze for that matter. I was turning over a new leaf. Last night was a stress reliever, a much needed stress reliever. From here on out, I would walk life on the straight and narrow.

  I showered, scrubbed under my nails, brushed my teeth, and exfoliated my pores to get the stench of the alcohol off my skin. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and lifted the coffee to my lips.

  My phone was lit up. It was Eve.

  “Hello?”

  She was screaming and crying, a raging lunatic I couldn’t understand.

  “Calm down,” I tried to g
et a word in edgewise, but it was impossible when she was upset.

  “Listen to me, I told you I’d talk to the funeral director, and I will. The damn place isn’t even open yet. I’ll go there as soon as they do.”

  Money. That’s all her hysterics were about.

  She sniffed. “You promise? He wants to be cremated, do you have a problem with that?”

  “No problem. I’ll handle everything.”

  I disconnected the call and dropped my face into my hands before forcing myself back to my feet and over to Holly’s room, the coffee and donuts in my hands.

  She was sitting up, but still looked sleepy. “Good morning beautiful,” I said and handed her a cup.

  “Thank you.” She blew a kiss at me as she quickly lifted the coffee to her lips. “When did you get up?”

  This was where it got sticky. If she woke up at any point last night and noticed I wasn’t there, what I said could incriminate me pretty badly. If I told her I went out, she’d want to know where I went. If I told her I’d gone to my room, she might have gotten up sometime during the night and knocked.

  This is why I never had girlfriends.

  To distract her from her question, I opened the donuts and handed her one. Then another when the first was swallowed in less than two seconds.

  “My sister called and I’ll need to head to the funeral home later to make arrangements. He wanted to be cremated.” Saying it aloud made my chest hurt.

  “Want me to go with you?” she asked, and I smiled.

  “Yeah.”

  She rose from the bed and walked over to me, taking me tight in her arms, offering me her warm comfort. When she pulled back into bed, I went with her. Fucked her. Made love to her. Then fucked her again.

  Maybe if I could distract her enough, she wouldn’t see the ugliness still flowing through my veins like a hungry monster chewing on my last ounce of integrity.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Holly

  Ace was acting strange, distant even. I brushed my hair, added some lipstick, and stepped back to look at myself in the mirror.

  “You ready?” Ace peeked into the room. “Wow, you look beautiful.”

  My black dress was modest but still a little too sexy for a funeral. I wanted to change, but I hadn’t brought anything else. I should have taken more time to find the right dress.