Chapter 34
Amir
As I sat at the table in the restaurant, I struggled not to overly fidget.
My agent, Vera, had told me this meeting was important, but she hadn’t been all that forthcoming.
Shawn sat across from her, speaking in a low voice while they drank.
I had a game in the morning, so I sipped on my water, wishing I could turn it into wine. More preferable would be whiskey.
I wondered if Remi could get one of those gods of his to do it for me. The thought made me chuckle, which drew the attention of the others at the table.
“You must be exhausted already,” Vera said in her most professional tone. I’d gotten her to be conversational many times throughout our years together, so this must’ve been serious.
“I’m not quite thirty,” I replied. “Give it another two years and I’ll start complaining.”
Both of them laughed. It was stuffy, like they were just waiting to drop the hammer on me.
“You know I hate bureaucracy,” I told them. “If something’s happened, we should get it out there right off the bat.”
Vera leaned her elbows on the table. “Relax, Amir. It’s nothing like that.”
“This is your sixth year,” Shawn commented while he swirled the ice in his glass. “Have you thought about your plans for next season? You’ll be a free agent.”
I crossed my ankles under the table. “Of course I’ve thought about it.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard whispers about interest from other teams.”
“We’re not here to talk about Amir’s other options,” Vera interrupted. “You know those negotiations aren’t underway yet.”
The corner of Shawn’s lips lifted. “Officially.”
She returned the expression. It was like a silent battle for dominance. They each knew things, had heard the chatter that happened among the other suits and commentators.
“The Red Sox are interested in keeping you,” Vera explained, finally looking at me more fully.
“They understand that, as a soon-to-be free agent, you’ll garner interest around the league.
” Her eyes flicked to Shawn, then returned to me.
“Your stats speak for themselves, and if you have as good a season as you did last year, well . . .”
“Alright, I’m listening.”
“Nothing’s official yet,” Shawn warned. “But some of us have discussed you at length over the past couple of months. Longer, really, because you fought like hell to get us that near-win in the World Series. People have noticed you.”
“Sounds like a normal Tuesday lately.”
“I can’t give you an exact number, but you’re likely looking at five years, roughly eighty million.”
“Eighty million?” I nearly choked on the number.
“That’s sixteen AAV,” Vera said with a barely concealed smile on her face.
“Yeah, I got the math, but . . . That’s generous.”
She dropped her voice, turning to block out Shawn. “You’ve earned it. You’re consistent at third, your WAR’s nearly at the top of the charts, you’re hitting .295 so far this season. You’re one of the most valuable players right now.”
“Above McKinney?”
She snorted. “Nobody’s above McKinney. It’s a blessing he’s not given a bat.”
Leaning back in my seat, I brought the water to my lips.
I knew there was no obligation right now.
This wasn’t an official offer, but it was likely enough that Shawn and Vera wanted to have this meeting with me.
They wanted me to know what I’d lose if I decided to look elsewhere.
Sure, another team might offer me more when it came time, but it wasn’t like I wanted to leave my home and uproot my entire life.
I couldn’t do that to Mal or Avery, and I had Remi to think about now.
Hell, I didn’t give a shit what they offered me. This was my career, and I would’ve signed for another six million a year until the day I died.
“When can we expect a more official discussion?” Vera asked.
“Mid-June, I imagine,” Shawn replied.
She hummed. “You have some time to deliberate with your family, Amir. We’ll talk more about it.”
I nodded, unsure what else to say. Deliberating was something I would absolutely be doing at length.
*****
I was still thinking about that dinner while I stared up at the ceiling in my hotel room. Avery was blown away but not surprised. She’d always believed in me more than anyone else, and she agreed that staying exactly where I was would be the best move.
My phone buzzed, so I grabbed it from the nightstand and sat up.
Trav: You should take it, obviously. That’s more than I got this year
Me: You’re still signing as a rookie. You’ll get double when the team has to fight to keep you.
Trav: It’s not about the money. I’ll turn down any offer the Braves make once I’m free because I don’t want to stay in Georgia. You want to stay where you’re at, so it’s not even a discussion
Me: You’re right.
Trav: Then what’s eating at you?
Another text came in, this time from Shawn. My heart sped up, and I had to get to my feet.
Shawn: You need to contain this. Now.
I navigated to the link he’d sent, which brought me to a brand-new piece by the wicked witch, as Mal and Remi had taken to calling her. Putting a hand over my mouth, I started the video.
“A concerning development comes to you today,” Clara said.
She was seated in her studio with one leg crossed over the other casually, as if she didn’t dedicate her life to tearing good people down.
“A source who has been extensively vetted says that he was threatened at gunpoint by Mr. Keane. For those of you just tuning into these stories, Remi Keane is the somewhat mysterious boyfriend of Red Sox third baseman Amir Darya. Our source is here to comment on his experience and hopefully shed light on who Mr. Keane really is.”
Gunpoint? Fucking hell.
The camera panned to a man with blond hair who wore a pea coat, dark jeans, and square-toed shoes that made him look polished. He was lean and had sophisticated features, aside from the bruising around his nose and a bandage on the bridge of it. I couldn’t imagine him as an acquaintance of Remi’s.
“Thanks for having me on your show.” His voice was deep and smooth. Too smooth, though I didn’t know what I was basing that on. I had a bad feeling, and maybe it was because I wanted to give Remi the benefit of the doubt, and if I did that, this guy had to be bad news.
“Mr. Allen, will you tell us about your relationship with Mr. Keane?”
“Sure. We go way back to college, actually.”
“At Harmon University in Seattle?”
“Yes.”
“And this was a romantic relationship, right?”
“We dated off and on for years. It’s been about two since we were last involved with each other.”
“Will you speak on his character? I know that we all have a ton of questions.”
“Remi . . .” He blew out a breath. “He’s not a bad guy, but he’s troubled.
His past is spotty, and I think that contributes to who he’s become.
He spent six years in foster care, with all sorts of characters that were .
. . not good to him, let’s say. He left at sixteen and ran to Seattle to start a new life. ”
“That’s a very sad story,” Clara said, putting on a pitying expression. “What led to your breakup, and also to these threats against you?”
“Well, his best friend is a bad influence on him. He’s controlling and likes to put ideas into his head. He was in the system, too, so they bonded over that, I guess.”
“His friend Oliver Bennett, correct? I attempted to speak with him, but he wasn’t interested in commenting.”
“He wouldn’t be. He’s sort of strange, probably screwed up in the head.
Anyway, he didn’t like me, so he turned Remi against me.
After I saw your story about him, I wanted to come and check in.
I called first, and I got the impression that something was off.
I still care about Remi, you know. I want what’s best for him. ”
“But he turned you away.”
“Aggressively.” He touched the purple skin next to his nose. “He attacked me when I went to see him yesterday.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
He nodded, and his brows knitted together. “He pulled a gun on me. Then he told me that he’d kill me if he saw me again.”
Clara sucked in a breath. “Oh my goodness. Has he been abusive in the past?”
“Emotionally. Verbally at times. I could see the anger under the surface, but I . . .” He drew in a shaky breath. “I had no idea he was capable of actually hurting me.”
“According to the restraining order, he was the victim in your relationship.”
The man—Cole, I assumed—snorted. “He’s an expert at playing the victim. It’s what he’s best at.”
When he leaned forward, I did the same. Everything about him, from his face to his outfit to the way he spoke, made my blood boil.
He was fake, and Clara must’ve known it.
She investigated people for a living. But she didn’t care about that as long as she got her fame off the backs of those who just wanted to live in peace.
“He has family in California.”
Clara’s eyes widened. “He informed me that he had no surviving family.”
A little smile settled on Cole’s lips, barely noticeable except that I was looking for a crack in his carefully crafted demeanor. “He has an aunt on his dad’s side. He stayed with her for a bit after his parents died.”
I listened to the rest of the interview, but it didn’t add much to the narrative. They’d painted Remi as unstable, more wholly than Clara had managed in the past two months.
The worst part was that he’d seen Cole yesterday, but I hadn’t heard a damn thing about it.
I called him, but he didn’t answer. Most likely, he was occupied at the bar. It was Sunday night, and those were sometimes busy, so I’d give him that.
Even as I thought it, I wondered how much longer I could keep giving him the benefit of the doubt.
After all this time, I wanted to believe that we’d reached a place where he’d be honest with me.
If he wasn’t willing to be open about his ex showing up—the one I’d literally hired security to protect him from—what else was he willing to hide?