Page 90 of Dibs
Yeah, I’d do her.
Wilcox hit a pop fly to third, making the second out of the inning. “Flower” by Moby played over the stadium sound system as I was announced, the crowd going wild because their star was up to bat again. Even though the blonde had propositioned me, I wasn’t going to hit a home run for her. Whatever I did on the field would be all for me. But there was no harm in letting her think her offer was my motivation, so before I made my way to the batter’s box, I winked at her.
Standing in the left side of the box, my knuckles were lined up around the bat handle as I cocked my left arm, waiting for the pitcher to get his sign. He nodded to the catcher, my breath pausing a moment later as I watched the ball release from his hand. It came up and inside, exactly where I liked it. I didn’t hesitate to swing, knocking the ball toward right field and into the second level of the upper deck. The fans went wild because not only had I hit my second home run, but I’d tied the game. Rounding third, I slapped the third base coach’s hand and trotted to home plate, stepping on it and high-fiving Lake, who was batting after me.
“Nice job, Parker,” he said.
If only he could do the same,I didn’t reply. Instead, as I jogged past the blonde on the way to the dugout, I said, “Stadium View two hours after the game.”
* * *
The bar was packedas usual after a game. Fans knew we liked to frequent the place. Didn’t matter if we won or lost, but since we’d actually won, there was much to celebrate.
“A win and a night off? I’m getting wasted!” Nash boomed as Wilcox opened the wooden door for us. It wasn’t the entire team that went for drinks, mainly those who didn’t have to go home to wives and shit.
Cheers erupted as we entered the dimly lit sports bar. The six of us smiled and waved as we made our way to the table reserved for us when there were home games. As we sat, I noticed the Mets were playing the Giants on the TV above us. My father’s former team was kicking the Mets’ asses in the eighth inning, and I smiled. He’d always be a Giant—a Forever Giant—and maybe one day, I would be too.
Since we were playing the Mets next, I watched the game while Forrester and Nash played pool. At some point, the bartender brought us three pitchers of Bud Light, and as I drank my beer, I took mental notes of who hit balls into right field. We went over scouting reports for each player before the start of a new series, but still, I watched because it was the game I loved.
“Hey, Aron.” A hand brushed my shoulders and across my neck. I turned to see that it was the blonde from before. “Good game tonight.”
“Thanks.”
She looked at her friend and then back at me. “So, uh …”
“You ready to do this?”
“I … uh,” she stammered.
Did she expect to make small talk? We both knew why she’d come to the bar. She’d propositioned me, and I was taking her up on her offer. I wasn’t going to sit around and chat all night. We weren’t on a date. That wasn’t what I was about. That wasn’t what I was looking for. There was no tying me down or whatever else some jersey chaser wanted to do to score a baseball player. I loved being twenty-eight and single. Having to call home after each game wasn’t something I wanted to do. I lived in St.Louis, but that was during the off-season and when we had home games. Otherwise, I was either in Arizona for spring training or on the road for away games. I had no time to be concerned about another person. Plus, I got all the ass I wanted without being tied down.
“Let’s go.” I stood and downed the rest of my beer. “Give your phone to your friend.”
The blonde blinked. “Why?”
“You won’t need it,” I simply answered. I didn’t need my dick showing up on the internet.
She handed her purse to her friend, and I grabbed her hand, winking at the other guys as I led her to the women’s restroom. I found out a long time ago it was much nicer than the men’s room. And smelled better too.
After checking that it was empty, I locked the door behind us. “Take your shorts off and bend over the sink.”
CHAPTER 2
DREW
We shouldn’t have wonour game.
Giving up a three-run homer in the first inning was never how I wanted to start an outing, especially after an hour-long rain delay. In the second inning, our infielders had made two errors that gave the Giants a 5-0 lead. We somehow tied up the game in the ninth, and it took us playing into the twelfth to pull out a 7-6 win.
It had been a brutal game, and I’d been pulled in the fifth, making it my worst start of the season so far. I had a decent win-loss record, but as a team, we were playing sloppy ball. Every baseball player strived to win a championship. It was something I had dreamed about but hadn’t achieved during my nine years in the majors, and it was clear we weren’t making a run for the playoffs unless some miracle happened during the second half of the season.
I’d spent the first five years of my career playing with the Diamondbacks and then two years with the Mariners before signing a four-year contract with the Mets. I enjoyed living in New York and had finally started to feel settled, but the recent rumblings of a team rebuild had me on edge. There was one year left on my contract after the current season, but without a no-trade clause, I could be traded to another team before the deadline at the end of July. If the Mets rebuilt, there was a chance they wouldn’t want to stick with a thirty-three-year-old pitcher who probably only had a couple years left to play.
After walking into the clubhouse, I hit up the postgame spread before grabbing a shower. With the rain delay, three extra innings, and a quick interview where I was asked routine questions about my shitty performance, it was a little after midnight by the time I was getting dressed to head home.
We had one more game against the Giants before continuing our home stand with a four-game series against the Cardinals. I’d be pitching the last game in the series, and I needed to focus on that rather than the mistakes I’d made in the game we’d just played. We were only playing slightly better than St. Louis, which wasn’t saying much.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw our catcher, Anderson, walk toward his locker next to mine.
