by Faith O'Shea
“Reid says he went out on a limb for you and he’s going to kick your butt if you don’t give it your all.”
“That was one of the downsides about the trade, but the Greenies have a real chance to go all the way this year and I want to contribute to that.”
After the disappointing loss, management had gone out and filled in some of the missing pieces and he was one of them. There wasn’t a better shortstop out there, if he did say so himself.
“You have to take this seriously if that’s your intention.”
“I am here to train. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“It tells me that’s where the wind is blowing right now. Who knows where it will shift to tomorrow?”
“You hurt my feelings.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll behave.”
“Where did you find Fifi?”
“Fifi? You mean Fiona? You’re not calling her Fifi, are you?”
There was panic tucked neatly in the question. He evaded it with the truth.
“The name suits.”
“Rique, please don’t.”
He could hear agitation in her voice, but he wasn’t going to abide by her wishes so he skipped the part where he was supposed to promise he wouldn’t.
“Where did you find her?”
“She’s Jim’s niece. I’ve known her for a couple of years and when he told me she could use the job, I asked. She accepted. She’s responsible, mature, and loves animals. I didn’t want to board Hoover, and she said she’d be happy to stay at the house to dog watch.”
Jim was Reid’s mother Melinda’s, husband. They’d gotten married last year after reconnecting while Leeni had been re-admitted to the hospital with a cancer diagnosis. Those had been some dark days, but the little girl had gone into remission and was doing well. He smiled when he thought of his niece. She was a crackerjack, just like her father.
Now, Fifi?
“She looks like a poodle.”
Her hair had the same kind of tight, springy curls.
“Rique.”
He laughed at his sister’s indignation. “I’ll behave. I promise.”
“She’s not there to do your bidding. You handle your own meals and laundry and stay out of her way.”
“But if she offers?”
“She won’t. She doesn’t suffer fools kindly and will tell you right where you can shove it. One of the reasons I like her.”
“You’ve become too American. How does Reid stand it?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him yourself someday. I have to go. But I will fly home if you get out of hand, and then you’ll have to live with the guilt of cutting my vacation short.”
“Querida, you know I wouldn’t want to do that. You’re one of my favorite sisters.”
“I bet you have three.”
“Felicia and Leia would be treating me much nicer than you are.”
“You’re not living in their house.” There was a pause before she asked, “I don’t suppose you’d call Jaco, see if you can stay with him?”
“No. I like it here.”
Not only because his agent/lawyer was in town, and he had an appointment with Keith on Friday, which was just a couple of days away, but because he thought it might be fun getting under Fifi’s skin.
Rique went back to the video as soon as Izabella ended the call. The game was one of his last as a Yankee, when he’d gone for a steal at second and was thrown out by a mile. He still didn’t understand what had given his intention away. He’d stolen dozens of bases a year, at least he had his first couple of years with the franchise. Last year had been a disappointment, he’d been a disappointment, but the trade had surprised him. Management didn’t trade their best prospects and he’d been considered a coup. He’d partied, sure, but what young, single ballplayer didn’t? Now that he was on his brother-in-law’s team, he wouldn’t be able to get away with much. Reid was nothing if not intense. At least on the pitcher’s mound. He was one of the reasons the Greenies had made it as far as they had last year, and he wouldn’t tolerate marginal effort.
He stood, flicked off the set. He was hungry but according to Izabella, he was on his own. He picked up his phone and Googled Yelp to see what food places delivered. It was too nasty to go back out and pick something up. He’d checked the refrigerator earlier and it was empty. He would have thought Izabella would have left something for her live-in guest or Fifi would have stocked up for her stay here. She mustn’t have been kidding when she said she didn’t cook.
He sighed heavily, his thumb scrolling his options, not quite believing it had come to this.
All the women in his family were brilliant in the kitchen. His mother Livia had made sure her daughters learned all the culinary skills needed to provide sustenance for the soul. He’d tasted heaven every time he sat down at her table. He wished she were here, but the family had returned to Brazil after spending the holidays with Reid and Izabella. They wouldn’t move back to their house in the Hamptons until the baseball season started and then they’d stay until the fall. His father had been a soccer freak, but he took Rique’s decision to play a different sport with as much grace as he could muster. He’d known nothing about the game back then, but he’d become one of the most knowledgeable, crunching stats as well as he crunched numbers in finance. He’d attended most of his home games and sat him down at the end of last year, pointing out all his weaknesses, and there were more than he’d realized.
Rique needed this fresh start. By donning a Greenie uniform, he could get back to the basics, re-tool his trade so he was in the winning column again. He needed to settle down, on and off the field. By twenty-five, his father had been living with Julianna a couple of years, had Jaco and Izabella, and even though the relationship had ended in disaster, he’d taken his responsibilities seriously. Julianna’s revenge for his leaving was to take her kids and disappear. Paolo was only able to re-connect with his siblings at her passing. Today they were one big happy family. His father and mother had never allowed them to qualify their status. There are no halves and have nots.
And if he wanted to be honest, he got along with Izabella better than he did Felicia and Leia. She understood the mechanics of his game, worked at a trade that she excelled in, and could talk to him about anything. He respected what she’d been through, and how she handled it all with grace and grit. When she’d married Reid four years ago, the family still wasn’t sure he’d been tamed, but she’d done that, too, with merely her smile and her heart.
He scrolled down the list of suggestions on Yelp and, finally finding what he was looking for, called and ordered. Told it would take thirty minutes to be delivered, he licked his lips in anticipation. He wasn’t really in the mood for a fast food take on steak tips, but it was meat and it would have to suffice. He’d have to figure out a better plan for tomorrow night and every night thereafter. With no one around to provide his meals, he would have to improvise. Maybe he’d head back to Brazil earlier than he’d planned.
His sister’s words came back to him.
It tells me that’s where the wind is blowing right now. Who knows where it will shift to tomorrow?
Was he that predictable? If things weren’t working to his advantage, he walked away?
He’d come to Boston to train, not eat, and he had to re-focus his efforts in that direction.
Feeling itchy and bored, he sank down on the couch, dropped his head back and closed his eyes.
He was meeting the infield coach at ten a.m. tomorrow. Leo had told him he was setting up a regimen for strength training, that he could begin immediately, and as soon as a couple of other players showed up there’d be fielding practices. There’d be drills, those endlessly repeated exercises that were supposed to perfect skill levels. There’d be batting practice and sprints. He groaned thinking about it, but Leo had said something about needing to refine his muscle memory. “You’ve forgotten how to react automatically to routine ground balls. You take too much time getting a grip, and you
double clutched more than a couple of times.”
In other words, he’d gotten sloppy.
When he’d first come on the baseball scene, he’d been considered one of the premier prospects. He had a ton of range, a strong arm, double-play depth, a quick pivot and release. He was cocky at the plate because he hit with power, and once on the base pads, he could outrun any throw. Consensus was, a team had to be strong up the middle with a good catcher, second baseman, shortstop, and center fielder, but the position that took them into pennant territory was his. Last year the team had come in a dismal fourth.
When he’d been called into the front office, told about the trade, he’d been stunned. The owner had given him a lot of nonsense about his lack of discipline, something that he said couldn’t be taught. They’d seen no improvement after the several sit-down’s they’d had with him over the season, and they wanted someone with a zest for winning. They were convinced he didn’t have it.
When he’d asked where they were sending him, he should have felt shame, but instead he’d been psyched with their answer.
He’d be part of a great team, near family, with better support.
At least he hoped he’d have it. Over the holidays, he’d been scolded at dinner, and not only by his father. Reid had asked what had happened to him last season. When he had no answer, his brother-in-law pointed out that he played harder than he worked. Izabella had agreed and gone one further. He’d become lazy.
He’d gotten pissed and gone back to New York, leaving their opinions behind as well.
While there, each night spent out with a different woman, he began to see a pattern and unwillingly concluded that they might be right.
It’s when he’d set his mind to a permanent solution: marriage. No more squandering his time on partying, no more wasting his energy on meaningless activities. He was here to win.
Which meant Brazil would have to wait.
When the doorbell rang, he walked briskly over to the door, exchanged money for the meal, and brought it into the kitchen. The sun was already low in the sky, and darkness was enveloping the room. Thinking it might be better not to see what he was eating, he left the lights off and dug in.
It wasn’t half bad. More importantly, it was satisfying his hunger.
Just as he took the last bite, the lights came on.
He squinted up at Fifi, who was standing in the doorway, a look of disbelief on her face.
“You ordered in?”
“Yeah, I was hungry, and you refused to cook.”
“And you didn’t think to ask if I wanted something?”
He wiped his mouth and gave her a tolerant glance.
“My sister made it perfectly clear I’m on my own which means you are as well.”
“Gawd, how can you be so…so…insufferable?”
He studied her stance. Her arms were akimbo, a ruby ring clearly visible on her finger. Her nails were clipped and bare of polish. His gaze was drawn to her eyes. They were a soft gray-blue that pulled you in. She had an oval face, a high forehead, and her hair was in disarray but framed it perfectly. Her nose might be a bit too small to be called classic, but her lips had a pink tinge that was alluring. She couldn’t be more than five foot three… about a hundred and five, ten pounds, but she carried it well. There was a strange tingle that slid up his spine. He didn’t understand it and it made him more than uncomfortable.
He scrambled away from the island and made a beeline back to the family room, calling out, “Throw that mess away for me, will you?”
He missed the wide eyes and fisted hands and her reluctant move to do his bidding.
Fiona snapped the drawer closed as soon as she’d dumped the plate, still fuming. He was beyond self-absorbed, and those kinds of people always made her irritable. She often wondered if it was a trait handed down, or something hidden in the person’s cellular memory that could be edited out.
There were a lot of characteristics that she thought worth editing–stupidity, ignorance, selfish disregard of others, making a more perfect world. There were lines that shouldn’t be crossed in genetic manipulation, and maybe that was one of them. Better to make changes through the biomedical research of human disease, on things like cancer, ALS, and arthritis. That kind of breakthrough would help kids like Leeni, who was a more worthwhile cause than the asshole in the other room.
Her stomach growled as she groused. After checking the refrigerator, confirming that she’d neglected to pick up something to heat up for dinner, again, she sighed before she closed it.
She’d have to go the same route as Enrique and order in. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she’d get to the local specialty market. They sold pre-packaged foods that she could zap in the microwave, calzones, pasta dishes, soups, and shepherd’s pie. Her mother had done the same, too busy with more intellectual pursuits. Clare Barrows experimented in a lab rather than with an oven. No one in the family had known any different until they got older, and even then, it didn’t make a difference. Fiona’s sister, Siobhan, had married a man who loved to cook. She’d just have to follow suit.
As she was ordering, a head peeked in through the doorway. “What are you doing?”
As if not hearing him, she continued with her order: carnitas a la Roca, salteñas du carne, queso a la Huancaina com camarones. She figured she might as well order enough for a couple of days just in case she never made it to Butcher’s Block as planned.
When she swiped off, he was standing not two feet away. The arrogance was momentarily gone, his expression hopeful.
“Did you order for me as well?”
Exasperation spilled out in a fiery sigh.
“No. Why should I? You completely forgot about me.”
“But carnitas? Salteña? I didn’t know there were places like that that delivered.”
She didn’t really know what they were but the descriptions on the menu sounded appetizing, and it gave her the added pleasure of a little payback.
“So?”
His eyes held an inscrutable glint. “That is more to my liking than what I ate.”
“That’s your problem, not mine.”
He was becoming almost conciliatory. “If I pay, will you share?”
She hesitated, thought about it, and then said, “I got enough to last me a couple of days. If you eat some of it, then I’m back to square one.”
“If I say I will provide dinner tomorrow as well?”
“Then what do I pick at during the day?”
He rose to his full height, which wasn’t as tall as she’d originally thought. He was still able to look down his nose at her.
“You do not pick at this kind of food. You savor it.”
“Whatever. I pick, you savor. To each their own.”
“Meu Deus. Do you have no refinement? What is wrong with your… good sense?”
“Not a thing. I eat to live, not live to eat.”
“Food can be one of the most pleasurable sensory delights. Do you not find pleasure in things?”
She did but he wouldn’t understand in what. They had a stare-off contest until the doorbell rang.
He went racing to the door, not giving her a chance to argue and made the money-for-food exchange.
His smile was wide as he inhaled the aroma. He settled himself down, unpacked the offering and began to dig in. Then stopped.
He looked back up sheepishly, his hands in the air in surrender.
“Eu sinto muito. I’m sorry. You get first choice.”
She was getting a plate out of the cabinet and a fork out of the drawer, the scent making her mouth water.
“And here I thought you were forgetting about me again, you know, the one who made this possible.”
“I am used to—”
“Having your way?”
His silence told her that was exactly what he was used to. She took a seat opposite him, scooped up a bit out of each container and transferred it to her dish.
“What is this?”
“Empanada. W
ith beef. One thing you should know about Brazilians. We are carnivores at heart.”
“This is Peruvian, I believe. Are the cuisines the same?”
“Close enough to be siblings.”
He had impeccable manners, never spoke until he’d swallowed, used his napkin, had one hand in his lap, and ate with slow and measured mouthfuls. She was trying hard to keep from wolfing it all down. It was good and she was hungry, but he already thought she was a dog, if his nickname for her was any indication, and she didn’t want to eat like one.
In order to slow herself down, she asked, “Why are you here?”
The smile he gifted her with was dazzling.
“I’m a Greenliner now, and if I am to help them win, I must get better. I’m here to train with the coach.”
“Are you happy about it?”
His smile slipped. “It stings to be discarded but I’ll get over it. Contributing to a Mets routing will be my revenge.”
“All I know about baseball is that it’s a team sport that’s played with bats and balls. What do you do? Catch or hit?”
She’d taken a small forkful of the carnitas and…to her surprise, was savoring it, her eyes closed to more fully appreciate the flavor.
“It is not such a simple game. There is much complexity involved. But if I broke it down to its essence, you could say I do a bit of both. You’ve never seen a game? Not with your uncle?”
Her eyes opened and she began savoring the sensory delight that was Enrique.
When he asked again, “Your uncle? Jim? You’ve never watched a game with him?”, she gave him a toss of her head. “I’ve been kind of busy over the last few years.”
Not that she would have even if she had the time. It would be a waste of an afternoon.
“It is like Jell-O, no? There’s always room.”
