by Laney Smith
Ryan still stared at Eric with his mouth agape and his eyes wide open. “I’ll come back. I’ll be better than I’ve ever been, Eric. I’m not resigning.”
“You’re forcing my hand. If you are fired for suspicion of gambling, it’s over. If you retire, sit it out a few seasons. If you still think you want to play, after you’ve healed, come out of retirement. It’s like pressing a pause button while you think things over.”
Ryan laughed as he stared at the ground, shaking his head. “You’re so full of shit you should change your name to Port-o-let. You cut me loose, you owe me a hefty check. If I retire, you’re free and clear.” Ryan’s eyes locked on Eric’s. “Fuck you. I’m not retiring. And, you can suspect me of anything you want. The burden of proof is on you.”
“We have the slo-mo video. It’s obvious you deliberately missed that catch. There is no other logical explanation. You’ve got a suspension on your record. The burden of proof is hardly as difficult as you think you’ve set it up to be.”
“Where’s that damn doctor? Doctor Vorhees? Eric needs his ears checked. He seems to have an impairment,” Ryan said facetiously, as though the doctor were in the room. “Eric, are you listening? I . . . did not . . . bet on this game. Do you think I’m that stupid? I don’t even buy a fucking lottery ticket, these days. Everyone in the world runs around saying, I bet this. I bet that. I’m so worried about ruining my life that I don’t even make statements as innocent as that. I’m too paranoid to bet on anything. But, I sure wouldn’t bet on the World Series. I wanted that win. You have to know that.”
“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to speak with good ol’ Agent Bill and your legal team. I fully expect you’ll be announcing your retirement tomorrow.”
“What’s with you, Eric? You’ve got it in for me. Why?”
“You did this to yourself. What else are we supposed to think? There is no reason you should’ve missed that catch.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, surrendering to the fact that it looked bad for his defense. “Eric, I know what I did, before. It’s been, what? Two years? Every time I turn around, someone brings up that humiliating situation. Yes, OK? Did I bet on games? Yes, I did! Am I doing that now? Eric, I’m not. I’m telling you, it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“What is it, then, Risky Ryan?”
“Did you not hear Doctor Vorhees?” Ryan fumed before hopelessly hanging his head as he sighed. “Maybe the pressure got to me.”
“You’d really rather look like a diaper sporting, titty baby, momma’s boy than to resign? You want people to believe that, though you’ve been in those intense situations before, this one suddenly bugged you out? As your coach, I’m pissed off. As your boss, I’m fucking done. As your friend, I’m telling you, pal, make it easy on yourself.” Eric tilted his head, sympathetically staring at Ryan. “Just get out while you still have a following. Please, Ryan. Go out with your head held high.”
“Eric, you gotta believe me. I didn’t bet on this game,” Ryan insisted.
TWO YEARS LATER
~THREE~
Ryan gathered the last box of his possessions and stepped to the front door of his sprawling mansion. He looked at the empty shell of a home and visualized the day he moved into this house. Things were so different. In those days, he was a young, promising baseball star with the whole world at his feet. Coaches fought for him, seducing him with all the elements of “the good life,” trying to get his signature on their contracts. In those days, his dreams ran wild. Fame. Fortune. Notoriety.
Now, the dreams hadn’t quite turned out as he imagined. Once that luster of stardom tarnished, the stains were permanent. He never thought he would see the day when he would be forced to retire. He never imagined he’d sell his beautiful home. He would’ve never believed he would be moving back to his old hometown – back where his dreams started.
Ryan was going to miss his house. He tried to replay the happy memories that had filled this place. Really, there weren’t many. Sure, there were barbeques, on occasion. Every now and then, there would be a birthday party, here. There had been countless model-types, draped over every piece of furniture in the place during his house parties. There were plenty of naked model-types hanging around the pool during the summer. He had never formed a meaningful relationship that lasted longer than a month and that had never bothered him . . . until right now. When he thought about it, his entire world had revolved around his team, the bar scene, short skirts, a dirt diamond, and winning games. Reflecting back, he saw how lonely his life had been. This home wasn’t filled with happy memories at all. This home was nothing more than a storage container for a machine. Maybe he wouldn’t miss this place, after all.
*****
Ryan pulled into a gas station at the edge of San Antonio, Texas. It had been a long time since he had been here. The only part of it that felt like “home” was the idea. So many things had changed. Ryan studied a new shopping center that now sat where a field of blue bonnets used to flourish. That was the same field that Ryan and his friends used to gather in to play a friendly, neighborhood game of baseball. He missed those days – when the game was just a game. He cringed at the sight of all the textiles displayed in over-sized store windows, framed in concrete.
After Ryan pumped his gas, he drove to his parent’s house. Unlike the field, his childhood home was exactly as the last time he saw it. His father had always prided himself on having the greenest lawn in the neighborhood. As was typical of his father, being that George Priest had proudly served his country, there was stars and stripes blowing in the breeze, tacked to the front of the house. The house was still a soft, lemon yellow with hunter green trim. As always, the house looked freshly painted. George was meticulous about maintaining his property. A smile crept across Ryan’s face as he stood in front of the home. Unlike the home he had just left behind, this home held numerous happy memories for him. At this moment, Ryan finally felt a connection - like he had truly come home.
“Hey, buster! You wouldn’t be trying to peek in my windows and glimpse my beautiful wife, would you?” his father joked.
“Yes, sir! I hear she’s the most beautiful woman to ever grace the planet. I had to see her for myself.”
“Well, you can’t get a good look at her from out here. You better get your tail in this house. She’s whipping up some lunch. If you hurry along, she might feed you, too. She has a soft spot for you goofy looking ball players, you see.”
Ryan chuckled as he and his dad embraced. “I’m going to have to ask you to watch what you say. Everyone tells me that I look just like my mom. If I’m goofy looking, you’re saying my mom is goofy looking. Them’s fighting words,” Ryan teased.
“You do look like your mom. But, just so you know, she does it better.”
Ryan chuckled. “How’re you doing, Dad?”
“Ready to wage war. You know how I am. Come on in the house. I’m not kiddin’ about your momma making us some lunch. I’m hungry. You hungry?”
Ryan shrugged and nodded. “Yeah. I could eat.”
“George, get your fanny outta my way. Let me at my handsome, baby boy,” Ryan’s mother, Frannie, insisted as she pushed her way past her husband to embrace her son. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
Ryan smiled as he squeezed his mother a little tighter. “Me, too.”
“Get in this house. I haven’t got to feed you in forever. Our house isn’t quite as fancy as yours, I know. But . . .”
“Mom, don’t start that. I love this house. Just because a home is fancy doesn’t mean it’s happy.”
“Well, that’s because you gave that demanding coach everything you had and you never made time to find me a pretty daughter-in-law.”
Ryan rolled his eyes as he glanced over at his father. “I think that’s a record. She waited a whole five minutes before she started with the marriage thing.”
George shrugged. “I had your back on that, for a long time. She’s kind of put us both in our place. You are standing here on my fr
ont porch, instead of your own. You don’t have a family and your career is done. Maybe she was right about that daughter-in-law bit, all along.”
Ryan pressed his lips together, sighing as he nodded. “Thanks for the recap, Dad. I needed that.”
“Sorry, son. I didn’t mean it like that. You know . . .”
“Dad, it’s ok. You’re right. I devoted my love to something that didn’t love me back.”
George chuckled. “Yeah, but you did something right. When we devote our love to a woman, we don’t end up with a bank account like the one you’ve probably built.”
“I tried to help you with that. You wouldn’t take my money.”
“I’ve worked too hard to mooch off of my kids. Your brother tries to poke money in my face, too. If I can’t provide it, we don’t need it. I get my pension. I’m still earning my keep.”
Ryan smiled, touched by his father’s pride. “You know you and mom taught Rick and me everything we needed to know to build that bank account. Maybe we’re trying to pay you tuition.”
“It’s so nice to hear you speak of your brother without jumping into the insults,” Frannie interjected.
Ryan shrugged. “I haven’t talked to him in four years. It’s kind of hard to be mad at someone you never even talk to.”
“I wish you two would make amends. You have two nieces, now, you know.”
Ryan cocked his chin over his shoulder. “I can’t do anything about that, Mom. He said what he said. I said what I said. We’re both backing up what we said and I’m not missing the old days.”
“Well, since you’re home, now, maybe we can work on that, huh?”
Ryan forced a smile. “Ya just never know.”
Frannie started setting the table for lunch. Ryan enjoyed getting to sit with his parents and enjoy a home cooked meal. His mother never did anything in a small way. She cooked healthy, wholesome meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She had done that for as long as he could remember. Every bite made him realize how much he had missed his mother’s cooking.
As Ryan and his parents ate, they spent the meal catching up and discussing the future. Much to Frannie’s chagrin, Ryan had been researching homes online. The houses he liked were closer to Austin. Though he would be fifteen hours closer, she desperately hoped he would find a home in his hometown; closer to his parents.
~FOUR~
Over the next few days, just to appease his mother, Ryan agreed to meet with a local realtor to visit houses in the San Antonio area. He had no interest in buying any of the homes the realtor suggested. However, Ryan found the woman’s aggressive determination endearing. Since he was only entertaining his mother’s wishes, anyway, why not have a little fun?
Ryan pulled up in front of the house at the address his realtor had given him. She suggested they meet at the address around two o’clock, after the lunch rush. Ryan had ten minutes to spare. Since he was looking for a home with property, he decided to stroll around the home and inspect the size of the yard. Immediately, he could see this was not the home for him. Again, he was only humoring his mother, so he wasn’t disappointed. As he walked the property, he heard the sound of metal clanking. He knew that noise. He just couldn’t tell where it was coming from, due to the echo, breaking the sound waves. As he made his way back around to the front of the house, a little red sports car pulled into the driveway. A thin, tanned, brunette with bouncy curls, wearing a sleeveless yellow dress stepped out of the car and rushed toward him, extending her hand.
“Hi, Mister Priest. I’m Scottie Shaw. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person,” she beamed. Her delicate hand motioned toward the house. “So, what do you think?”
Absolutely not! He thought to himself.
“Well,” he started. He zeroed in on her shimmery, blue eyes. His mouth spoke the opposite of what his brain thought. “I think I’d like to see it.”
He wasn’t interested in the house. He immediately knew this. However, there was a beautiful woman who appeared to have put a lot of effort into her appearance for their meeting. He felt obligated to make it worth her trip. If he were being honest, it wasn’t inconveniencing him to spend time with the pretty, bombshell of a realtor.
As they crossed the threshold, Scottie rattled off details that Ryan had no interest in hearing. He followed her through the home, listening to her ramble as she gave him the tour. As he followed her, he couldn’t stop staring at her perfect ass, her skinny, long legs and the way the yellow, strappy heels seemed to glow against her tanned skin.
Every time Scottie stopped, Ryan snapped to attention, focusing on the conversation. Otherwise, she was white noise contained in a perfect body that his eyes couldn’t help but consume. As they stepped into the master bedroom, Scottie turned and smiled at Ryan.
“As you can see, this master features his and hers closets. This guarantees that you will always have a place to hang your clothes. You know how we women can be. We need lots of room. So, she’ll love you for this closet. Just look at how much space there is,” she said as she motioned with her hand, inviting him to view the closet. “I’m sure there is a woman in your life who would love this closet, am I right?”
Ryan stepped into the oversized space. It was impressive, given the simplicity of the home. However, it paled in comparison to his old closet. As he stood in the body of the closet, Scottie leaned against the doorframe, jutting her hips outward, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, and crossing her feet in front of her. It wasn’t a professional stance, by any means.
“So, what do you think, Mister Priest?” she asked, smiling a flirty smile.
“Uh, about this closet? Yeah. It’s a closet,” he shrugged, noting her seductive demeanor. “We are talking about the closet, right?”
“The closet. The house. Is that what you were talking about?” she asked, flashing him her bedroom eyes.
The question came out awkwardly. It was obvious she was leading him toward a certain direction, only Ryan sensed a hint of uncertainty from her. He had plenty of experience, reading women. He knew he could have her. All he had to do was give her the green light. Why not? He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he smiled. He placed his hands on his hips.
“You know what? I don’t think this house is the one,” he winked at her. “I’m curious to see what else you want to show me.”
Scottie giggled. “Are we still talking about houses?”
“Are you trying to get me to talk about something else?” he flirted.
Scottie shyly tucked her chin to her chest and nervously cleared her throat. She smacked her lips together. “So, Mister Priest, did you have any thoughts on what kind of financing you’re looking for?”
Ryan sighed. “I don’t know, just yet. Let me think on that.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m retired,” he boldly answered.
“You’re retired? Already? You’re so young. How old are you, anyway?” she asked with a flirty smile and a seductive gaze as she nibbled at her fingertip.
“I’m thirty-five.”
“How does one retire at thirty-five? I am curious.”
“I was a baseball player,” he modestly offered.
“A baseball player?” she scoffed. “Like a professional? Like the games on television? Like the sports channels? Take me out to the ballgame, Cracker Jacks, homeruns, ballpark, baseball? The major-league kind of baseball?”
“Is there another kind of baseball?”
“Wow! A baseball player? Like a famous athlete? On a team? A real team? A big team?”
“Yep! Same team for fifteen years.”
“I don’t really watch baseball, but that’s so cool. I’ve never met a professional baseball player before,” she smiled. “That explains this,” she flirted as she motioned her hand up and down his physique.
Ryan chuckled as he looked down the front of his body. He arched his eyebrows as his eyes met hers. “We’re not talking about thi
s house, anymore, are we?”
Scottie shook her head, obviously, star struck. “I’m sorry, Mister Priest. I just . . . I’m nervous, now. I’ve never met a famous person, before. I’ve definitely never met a real, live baseball player.”
“I think you mentioned that, already. If it helps, I’m not a real, live player, anymore.”
“You’re not a player?” she teased with a pleading stare and a devious grin.
Ryan pressed his lips together and shrugged as he thought about her question. “Oh, I play. I just don’t play baseball, anymore.”
“What do you play, then?”
Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets as his eyes scanned the closet. “What do people usually play in closets?”
“Oh! Shit! I’m so sorry! I completely . . . I wasn’t paying attention. I’ll let you out of the closet. Wait! Not out of the closet – not saying that. Or anything like that. How weird. I’m sorry about that,” she spouted, snapping out of her flirty daze.
Ryan followed her into the master bedroom. He circled his finger through the air. “This room is a fun room to play in?”
“Uh huh,” Scottie agreed, biting her lip as she fought a smile. “But, only if you have someone fun to play with.”
“Hmm . . . I see your point. Do you help with that, too? Or would I need to look at furnished houses for that?”
“Do you want to play in this room?” Scottie asked, referring to house, rather than as an invitation.
Ryan laughed. “You’re rather forward,” he flirted. “I like it.”
Scottie stuttered and stammered in her efforts to form words, attempting to correct his interpretation of what she had said. As she tripped over her words, Ryan stepped toward her, staring down into her eyes. He smiled as his eyes scanned her face.
“I’m kidding,” his rich voice softly spoke as he flashed her a wink. “Is there anything else you want to show me?”
