Chapter 20
TWENTY
JAYDEN
I figure Adriel and I won’t be able to avoid doing press forever, so when the new marketing director asks us to sit for a few remote press spots after tonight’s game, I opt to rip the Band-Aid off and say yes for both of us.
I don’t realize I’m inevitably roping Colby into a press junket, too.
And as viral as basically any story involving my brother seems to be, given his knack for crashing cars, getting kicked out of bars, and just general mayhem, it seems the juicier piece of gossip is that I grew up with my new hitting coach.
“So, in high school, did the two of you ever . . .” Casey, the late-night reporter from Oklahoma City’s entertainment news is really stuck on this idea.
Adriel chuckles and takes the small lavalier mic from my hand, holding it close to his lips.
“Are you asking if my baby brother pined after this one for years, and she wouldn’t give him the time of day? I mean . . . of course.”
My brother hands the mic back to me and hits me with his elbow. I glare at him. I’m not sure whether he thinks he’s helping.
“To answer your question, Casey, I was so afraid of getting told to run poles by her father—my coach at the time—I wouldn’t have dreamed of it.” It’s a lie, and all three of us in this room know it. We’re apparently good actors, though, because we laugh as if I told the truth.
“Fair enough,” Casey says with a chuckle.
She ends her spot, and I toss the mic on the table, then sit back in my chair and rub my temples, wishing I were anywhere else.
“At least they aren’t asking about my latest drug test and if I’m nervous,” Adriel groans.
I roll my head to the side to meet my brother’s eyes as he peels his lips from the water bottle he was about to drink from.
“What?” he shrugs.
“The fact you even put yourself in a position where you have to worry about drug testing,” I grit through my teeth, my whisper not very whispery.
“Hey,” he bites out, leaning forward and casting his gaze toward Colby, who is bent over in her chair with her head in her hands.
I shake my head and slide my foot into my brother’s.
“Don’t fuck with her life, man. Just be smart,” I say, my voice still hushed.
He rolls his eyes a bit, but mutters, “Yeah, yeah.”
All I can do is trust that the part of my brother that always stood up for Colby when we were younger is still in there somewhere.
“Are we about done here?” I ask Campbell, our marketing rep. She’s skimming through messages on her phone and holds up a finger.
“Just one more. I’m waiting for Coach to sit in on this one with you.”
My entire chest tightens. It’s one thing to do these interviews with family. Even with Colby. But to have Coach Shuster slide in feels amplified. If he’s slipping into the room, the outlet is likely someone a little bigger.
“He’s outside. One second,” Campbell says, skidding the metal legs of her folding chair against the tile floor as she zips to the door of the small conference room she’s turned into a sound studio.
“Come on in, Coach,” she says, propping open the door. Both Coach Shuster and Coach Bastion step inside, and my brother leans into me, tugging on my sleeve. He cups his mouth.
“You’re getting called up,” he says.
I don’t have a moment to react, Coach pulling a chair next to me in the very next breath. My eyes widen on my brother, and he shoots me a brief smile that only touches half of his face. He’s interested in his own path back to Texas. God forbid he be excited for me.
“Coach,” I say, shaking his hand. I reach across the table to shake Coach Bastion’s next.
They get comfortable in their seats as Campbell adjusts the pair of cellphones she’s had set up along with ring lights.
She rotates the laptop we’ve been talking to reporters on to us, and Chris Olson, the biggest reporter in sports news, stares back.
“Coach Shuster. Thanks for making time for us tonight. Congrats on the win against Little Rock,” Chris says.
Coach picks up the small mic from the table and chuckles.
“Well, when the organization gives me two Vargas boys in my lineup, the deck is definitely stacked in our favor,” he says with a wink. His answers are always so smooth. I guess years of doing this has made him comfortable.
“Ha ha, yeah. Fair point,” Chris says. “Jayden, what was it like playing with your brother tonight. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this the first time the two of you have been on a roster together . . . ever?” he continues.
I take the mic from Coach.
“You’re right, Chris. I’m five years younger than Adriel, and I missed playing high school ball with him by one grade.”
Funny, this fact hadn’t hit me until Chris brought it up. I lean forward and smile at my brother, and he relaxes in his seat and smiles back. Chip on his shoulder and all, he can still see the power in a small moment like this.
“Not a bad night for the two of you. You combined for six hits and four runs. And your homer in the fifth basically put this game away for you all,” Chris says.
I struggle hearing praise, and my cheeks burn. I’d rather get tweaks on my stance, a critique for my fielding. Anything.
“Yeah, I don’t know that the game is ever totally put away. There are nine innings, and anything can happen in the bottom of the ninth,” I say.
Everyone in the room, including Chris on the monitor, laughs.
“That must be the attitude you were talking about earlier, when we chatted by phone, Coach.”
My eyes blink to my Coach as he takes the mic from me, and when our gazes meet, I catch the slight tell that gives it away. My brother was right. I’m fucking getting called up.
I sit on my hands to keep my nerves at bay.
“It sure is, Chris. And when the big guys call the kid up from Texas, his attitude is going to be as much a part of the reason as the way he swings the bat.”
My breath halts. When?
Coach twists in his chair and looks toward my brother.
“Just hurts that we’ll be losing his brother so fast,” Coach continues. A flicker of joy touches my brother’s eyes, and I sink into an abyss of jealousy while forcing the extra-wide smile to remain branded on my face.
Adriel’s head tilts.
“Yeah, it was hard watching Danube go down in the game in Arlington tonight. Adriel, do you feel ready? I know you were working through some struggles. I’m sure you would have liked more time.”
My entire world collapses as I watch my brother morph into the man. This is what his time in the majors—time well above mine—has trained him for. With nothing more than a little eye contact from Coach as a warning, Adriel picks up where the interviewer left off and runs with the story.
He had no idea he was getting pulled back up so soon. I saw the look in his eyes when he thought they came in here for me. His brotherly pride had a limit. But now . . . now he’s back on top. Just like that. One game in Little Rock and an injury in Arlington is all it took.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s all part of the game, Chris.
And I try to be ready for whatever the universe has in store for me, you know?
And sure, my confidence was taking a bit of a hit.
I might have gotten distracted by the wrong things.
But when it comes to the team, this game?
I’m always one hundred percent, and I’ll be ready when I roll back to Texas in the morning.
They’ll get the best from me. Better than I left. ”
My brother hands the mic back to Coach, and our eyes meet for a single burning moment. I love him, and I hate him. But maybe he also hates himself.
“I hear that, Adriel. We’ll be anxiously watching. Can’t wait to see you get that killer swing back,” Chris says, closing out with a short, “Thanks, Coach.”
“Anytime, Chris,” Coach Shuster says. A second later, Campbell has the ring lights turned off, and the laptop shut.
“What the fuck just happened?” The thought is mine, but the words come out in Colby’s voice. The entire room is now looking at her as she stands from her chair with her hands out.
“Danube has elbow tightness. He’s probably going to need surgery. They have to pull Adriel back up.” Coach Shuster has been through ups and downs like this for years. To him, it’s a regular Saturday in some small town. But to me? To Colby? It’s life proving exactly how unfair it is.
“Well, it’s bullshit. Jayden’s ready. He deserves to go,” she says.
My eyes flare extra wide, and she seems to catch her words, only too late.
“You’re awfully invested there, Colby,” Coach Bastion says under his breath.
“I just know he’s ready. I’m sorry. It seemed . . . when you all came in here, I thought . . .” She turns her gaze away from me, and I feel the instant wall she’s fighting to build.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that, Jayden,” Coach Shuster says to me.
“We got the call late, and Chris wanted to get a bite for the show. Normally, I wouldn’t have let them put you under a spotlight like that.
Thanks for being a pro, Adriel.” Coach leans across my body, holding a hand out to my brother.
The two men shake, and I sit, staring at the shut computer screen, feeling a lot like Alice at the damn tea party.
“Well, back at it in the morning. Let’s come out of here with a sweep,” Coach says, pushing his chair back in. He stops in front of Colby, though, and tilts his head toward the door as if asking her to step outside with him.
The room around me is a busy world of people stacking folding chairs, Campbell winding up cords and powering down electronics, and Adriel dialing his agent. Coach Bastion and I sit across from one another at the table, and the way he’s studying me is off-putting.
“So, who’s a better coach? Colby or her dad?” he finally utters.
I shrug and flit my gaze to the door, where I can hear murmurs of Colby and Coach Shuster talking outside.
“I don’t know. They’re different.”
Coach Bastion lets out a slow, sinister laugh.
“I’ll bet,” he says.
My eyes flash to him instantly, and I jet up from my chair, slapping my palms on the table just as Coach Shuster and Colby step back into the room. I do my best to redirect my rage, playing it off as frustration and looking away from the man intent on baiting me.
“Sorry for my outburst,” I say. Coach Shuster merely pats my back as he walks behind me.
“I love your competitive spirit, Jayden. And I meant what I said. Your attitude is what this game thrives on.” He nods toward Adriel, who is still on the phone with his agent on the other side of the room, then tunes his gaze on me. “Don’t think that is the way you get there.”
I lower my chin in understanding.
The room clears out minutes later, and sometime during the chaos, Colby slipped out unnoticed.
Adriel walks ahead on his own, still making calls to share the news and work his angles, and I follow the coaches through the stadium lot.
The three of us help Campbell carry her tech equipment to her rental car.
She got to fly in for the night. Funny, even the one-woman PR team gets better treatment than me.
I had to endure a charter bus that smelled slightly of wet socks.
We pile into the elevator together, and while my entire body is itching to head to the top floor to see if Colby’s in her room, I get off on six with everyone else. I press my keycard to my door just as Coach Shuster’s clicks shut about four doors down.
“I’m so sorry,” Colby says, standing in the middle of my room.
My heart skips at the sight of her, and I do the only thing I can think of—the only thing that’s right. I rush toward her, hold her face in my hands, and kiss her through her tears that started falling the moment our eyes met.