Page 112 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
players the time of day.
They’ve tried, from bonus babies with egos fed by agents and endorsement deals to guys who signed for ten bucks and a case of beer. Not even one has come close.
I hadn’t come to town with the intention of being “that guy”—the kind who sees a challenge and pursues it to a satisfying conclusion. I’d never had trouble with women, and I managed to stay out of prolonged entanglements by simply being nice. I’d planned on achieving an end-of-season call-up to the big leagues and little else, with an occasional hookup to pass the time. I hadn’t even scored one before I met her in the general manager’s office.
“Turns out one of my roommates is a little hard up for cash.”
The team had an agreement with an apartment complex. They’d rent us decent places at reasonable prices, but to avoid late payments and general mayhem, rent and utilities were taken out of our paychecks. It kept damage to a minimum, and parties out of the apartments.
“It happens.” The Jackson Jags had been around for almost thirty years, and Ernie Oliver had worked at the stadium for all of them. “Especially in this business. Guys get away from home and blow their bonuses on women and booze. That, or they never had any money to begin with.”
“You probably have more stories than you could tell in a day,” I observed.
“I try to keep them to myself, and not to judge. Everybody’s trying to get by, and we can’t all be bonus babies.” He blanched. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Don’t apologize.” I’d stopped taking comments like that personally four years ago, when I’d banked my own nest egg. “I don’t want you to get me out of the lease. I just want you to charge me more than you charge Gonzales. Or Taye Adams, for that matter. I’ll say we got a deal on the place, and I’ll cover three hundred on each of their rent withdrawals. But you can’t tell them.”
“Done.”
We’d just worked out the details when the door to the office opened.
She had on a cherry red sweater, jeans, and boots that came up over her knees. Her hair was loose and slightly static-y, most likely due to the Doctor Who Laplander in her hand.
“Oops! I didn’t think anyone was in here.” She leaned over to place a stack of contracts on Ernie’s desk, leaving me with a whiff of something like cotton candy, and started to back up.
“Hold up, don’t leave yet. Meet Jackson Bullock.”
“I go by my middle name.” I turned to Ernie. “It’s Ben. Please don’t use Jackson on the roster.”
“Hi, Ben.” As soon as the words were out, her lips formed a firm, straight line. I wondered what I’d done to offend her, and then understood she was trying not to laugh.
“Art lover?” I’d asked.
“Art history minor.” She kept the laugh in, but the sparkle in her eyes was unmistakable.
“I don’t spend my spare time throwing paint at canvases.” Jackson Bullock was way too close to Jackson Pollock, famous American drip painter.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No. My parents should be sorry. No one else.” Maybe my name wouldn’t be such a pain if my parents had known what they were doing, like if it had been a tribute or something. But it had been a total accident.
“I have a cousin named Crystal Chandelier, if that helps.” Sympathy mixed with humor in her expression, and it was so genuine and kind that my breath caught.
“It does.”
“Are you the new intern?” she asked.
“No, Ben is our newest catcher,” Ernie answered for me. “One of the top five prospects in the organization. I expect we’ll lose you to the major league club before the end of the season.”
“I hope so.”
“Ben, this is Liza Perez. She joined us in September full-time.”
“I’ve heard of her,” I said, before I could rip out my tongue and stomp it to a pulp beneath my feet. “I’ve heard of you. That you were a great asset to the team. To the club. To the staff.”
The kindness on her face had melted away, to be replaced by a mask of indifference. “Ernie, those contracts need to be back to the front office by tomorrow. Let me know when you’re finished and I’ll have a messenger sent over.”
Then she left without so much as a good-bye. I’ve been fighting an uphill battle ever since.
