Page 62 of Leave It On The Field (Grand Slam 3)
“Ricky, I’m not telling you again,” Jack says, “your name’s not on the manifest. You’re not boarding this plane.”
“Are Stone and Paul on the plane?” Ricky tries to walk around Jack to get to the airport coordinator who’s holding the boarding list.
“It doesn’t matter who’s on the plane.” Jack pushes him back again. “You’re not. If you’re going to L.A., you need to fly commercial.”
“Stone and Paul aren’t answering my texts.” Ricky gets on tiptoe to try to see into the plane’s windows that are at least ten feet above his head. “What’s going on? Is Sophie trying to freeze me out?”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Sophie,” Jack says. “Seb decides who gets seats—on planes and at games.”
“What?” Ricky takes a step back and puts his hand over his chest like he’s having a heart attack. “Do I not have a seat at the games anymore?”
“We already discussed that. You have two tickets at Will Call for every remaining World Series game.”
“Will Call? Since when do we have to go to Will Call to pick up our tickets? Seb always gives us our tickets before the games so we don’t have to wait in line.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. You made your own bed here, Rick.” Jack shakes his head. “Seb’s given you more chances than any other person in his life.”
“What are you talking about? There’s no way Seb’s cutting me loose. I’m his best friend!”
“Like I said, you have two tickets to every game for the rest of the series, but if you’re going to L.A., you’ll need to get out there by yourself.” Jack turns to Butch. “Do you have Sophie? We need to get in the air.”
“I’m not taking her out of the car until he leaves or I frisk him.” Butch nods at Ricky. “He’s a little too unstable for me.”
“Who the fuck are you to talk to me like that?” Ricky tries to push Butch in the chest.
Butch reacts so quickly that I don’t even register what’s happening until Ricky’s face down on the tarmac with both arms pinned behind his back. Butch is holding him there with one hand while he frisks him with the other.
“Holy crap!” I scoot away from the car window and crash into Raine’s body.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders. “It’s fine. Butch won’t hurt him.”
Butch whistles without taking his eyes off Ricky.
“That’s our cue,” Raine says. “Let’s go. We need to get you on the plane.”
She opens the door, pulls me out, and starts pushing me toward the boarding stairs.
“I need to get my bags,” I say, trying to turn around.
She keeps pushing. “Butch will get them. You’re getting on the plane. Now.”
Ricky’s still face down—his cheek pressed against the concrete.
“Get off me!” He’s trying very unsuccessfully to get out of Butch’s hold.
“Butch,” I say as we walk by them, “let him up.”
“I will,” Butch says, “after you’re on the plane.”
Ricky’s gaze shoots up to me. “You fucking bitch! Are you trying to get rid of me? Seb and I have been best friends for twenty five years.”
“Hell no!” I look up to see my mom charging out of the plane. “You do not talk to my daughter like that.”
Butch springs to his feet, picks me up around the waist, carries me to the boarding stairs, and turns Mom back around. “Everyone on this plane. Now!”
Butch turns to face Ricky who has made it to his feet. “I don’t want to hurt you, Ricky, but if you make another attempt to board this plane, all bets are off.”
Ricky brushes the dirt off his shirt, then looks up at me. “I’m calling Seb right now to tell him you had his best friend kicked off his plane. You think he’s going to pick you over me? You’re just some whore he picked up at a bar so he would have someone to fuck before his games.”
