Chapter Ten.
Harley.
T his was damn painful, being here at Florida’s ball grounds. I should’ve been here five years ago, but fate had different plans. Oakley, sensing my thoughts, reached for my hand and held on tightly.
“Are you okay?” she murmured.
“Yes. I will be. This was gonna be my life. Ninety per cent isn’t good enough for a ball career. That number fuckin’ hurts.”
“Harley, we can leave. If you want to withdraw, you can,” Oakley murmured.
“No. This is to raise money for the Trusts. So, we’ll play ball. At least I can say I got to play with the pro’s once.”
“Harley…”
“Honest, it’s fine. Let’s get you to Mom and the others, and then I’ll go join Shutout and his team.”
Oakley nodded, but I could tell she didn’t want to leave me. I headed for the stand my family had taken over, along with some brothers of the club and their families.
This was a big thing. Even bigger for me. For one day, I could pretend that the attack hadn’t happened, and I was actually a pro player. That my dreams hadn’t been snatched away.
I settled Oakley next to Mom, as Serenity and Shutout approached.
“Ready, kid?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
Serenity grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. She didn’t have to say anything, she just offered silent support.
Out of everyone here, Shutout knew what I was feeling, despite the fact the asshole had baited me. Swallowing, I nodded, and Shutout reached out and squeezed my shoulder.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“See you all in a bit,” I called as we walked away. It didn’t take fifteen minutes to change, and with time to kill, we headed out to the field. Nervously, I stuck with Shutout, warming up with him and two of his fellow Cub teammates.
Today was about the Trusts. The baseball players present came from every team in the MLB. Rivals would play alongside rivals. Enemies would put aside their differences and try to beat the opposing team. Shutout took some ribbing and handed it back with good humour. Our team wore blue jerseys while the other side wore grey. On the backs were emblazoned the Trust’s logo and their number.
Mine was thirteen. It had been unlucky for most, but I liked the misunderstood number.
Music was playing as the stands filled and the jumbotron was flashing images of the rich and famous who were attending today. Mom and Dad had already been up there three times; the second time, the camera had caught them full-on kissing. Mom had blushed and waved at the crowds as Dad had linked his hands behind his head and winked. Catcalls had abounded.
Shutout’s coach was managing our team and called us together to give the usual pep talk, and we headed out. We were batting first.
I was third up to bat behind Shutout. Coach thought it better I follow him.
The game started, and the crowd went wild as the batter, Woodrow, walked up. Two strikes before he hit the ball and stole first. Shutout managed to grab first as Woodrow moved to second.
I stepped up. Strangely, I felt no nerves, nothing. I was focused on Gregson, the pitcher, and in the zone.
I took a few experimental springs and, digging my toe into the ground, took up a hitting stance. Gregson’s eyes narrowed as he recognised the stance of someone who knew what they were doing. There’d been some teasing from both sides about carrying me. Slowly, I grinned, and he spat on the floor.
I monitored his body language and recognised what Gregson was going to pitch before he did. Gregson wound up, the ball left his hand, and I swung hard.
Thwack .
That was a damn home run as I dropped my bat and started jogging. Shutout had taken off at speed, and I laughed as he twisted his head.
“Home run!” Shutout yelled, slowing down with his arms in the air in victory.
Grinning, I nodded and continued rounding the bases.
Oakley’s screams from the stands caught my attention, and I pointed at her, which made her jump up and down. She raised her hands above her head, mimicking Shutout, and cheered louder.
With a grin still on my face, I rounded third and headed for home. Shutout and Woodrow were waiting for me. I hit the two of them, and they hugged me tightly.
“Nice!” Woodrow crowed, ruffling my hair. Happily, I smiled at the veteran player and accepted his compliments.
Coach was staring at me thoughtfully as we approached. “Got any more of them, kid?”
“Home runs?”
“Yeah.”
“Probably; I could always outdo Shutout.”
Coach’s eyes grew wide, and he looked at me. “And you didn’t go pro?”
“I had a head injury that took two years to recover from. That weakened my arm. When I healed, docs told me I’d never play professionally,” I stated.
“Umm,” Coach muttered, dismissing Shutout and me.
We descended into the dugout, and I accepted the congratulations from everybody around me.
Slyly, I smiled. Everyone thought that had been a fluke, but Shutout and I exchanged a glance. We knew different.
◆◆◆
I remained still, watching Gregson for a sign. We were on the third inning, and I was batting. Gregson showed me slightly more respect, but not much.
I studied his miniscule clues and guessed his pitch as he nodded to the catcher. The idiot’s body language gave it away every time. Gregson wound up, threw, and I swung.
I didn’t quite hit a home run, but I reached third before the ball returned. I skidded to a stop as Carmine yelled.
Once again, I’d got him and Woodrow through.
The crowd was going wild. The next batter struck out, but I raced home on the following guy. Shutout met me, slapping my back hard. We were eight runs up, and the opposing team had yet to get a single touch. Between Shutout and me, we were on fire.
Coach didn’t say a word, but he was watching me with a curious expression. He offered a nod of approval and concentrated on the next batter up.
By the fifth inning, I hit another home run, and come the eighth, I was on a third. Shutout was heading for another shutout, and the crowd held their breath.
As I stepped up, I felt the tension in the air.
Would I hit a fourth?
Confidently, I grinned at the audience and pointed towards Oakley, whose squeal was clearly heard. Each time I’d hit one, I’d pointed to her. The Jumbotron had several times landed on Oakley’s beautiful face each time. There was no question I was hitting them for her.
I dug in and watched. The first throw was a foul ball, as was the second. Gregson grinned, trying to throw me off balance, but I kept watching his body language. I recognised his decision and gritted my teeth. This fucker played a hell of a curve ball. Gregson let it fly, and I swung.
A gasp rose from the crowd as there was a resounding whack of the ball hitting the bat, and I took to my heels. That was another home run.
Shutout was whooping as we run, and the ball flew out of bounds.
“Holy cow!” the commentator blared over the speakers. “Harley Michaelson has just hit a fourth home run. He joins eighteen players in that achievement. Got to ask, why the hell isn’t Michaelson Junior playing pro?”
I chuckled as I jogged around the bases and leapt into Shutout’s arms as I hit home. Shutout hoisted me high as my teammates burst from the dugout. I was slapped and hugged for a few minutes as they cheered their enthusiasm.
Honestly, this might be the only game I played with pros, and I planned to leave a mark.
My team hit two further home runs before being struck out. We struck out on the ninth, but everyone held their breath as Shutout stepped up. Nobody had hit a single pitch, and the tension was high.
I grasped the rail tightly as he struck out the first player. The guy turned and tipped Shutout a salute of respect. The commentator was squeaking in excitement.
Carmine wound up and threw.
“Strike three!” the umpire announced.
The batter repeated his fellow teammate and walked off. The final batter strolled up to the plate and pointed his bat at Shutout.
“I’m going to ruin your game, Michaelson,” he boomed.
Shutout didn’t acknowledge him. He pitched and hit strike one.
The batter spat on the floor and dug in. Strike two.
The tension in the grounds was tangible as Carmine picked his pitch. Everything slowed down, and the batter swung… and missed.
I screamed before the umpire even yelled and was running towards Shutout.
“Strike three!” the umpire bellowed as the stadium broke into a riot. Screams and cheers erupted. Those watching had got their money’s worth, that was for sure. I hit my brother and shook him before strangling him in a tight hug.
Shutout was laughing as he slapped my back. The crowd was going wild as the rest of the team caught up, and both of us were hoisted onto their shoulders.
“Carmine Michaelson has just pitched his second shutout!” the commentator was screaming. “And what about the younger Michaelson? Where the hell have they been keeping Harley? What a game!”
Slowly, we broke apart, and Coach stood there. “Want you in Chicago. Fuck what your doctors say. If this is you at ninety per cent, then I can’t imagine one hundred. There’s raw talent there, son. Come and be tested, and let my medical team check you over. Because experts can be fucking wrong, boy.”
“What?” I gasped as Shutout stood at my shoulder.
“Knew it!” Shutout yelled, slapping my back hard. “This is why I baited you. You’d never have tried out for a team!”
That shithead!
Shutout had trapped me without my realising it.
“You need to be medically checked, and then you’re for the Cubs for a trial. Harley, I want to test if this performance is a one-off or sustainable. Carmine, get him to Chicago. You’ve got three days, boys,” Coach said and disappeared.
Stunned, I stared at Shutout, who grinned. He grabbed me in a headlock and began yanking me towards the stands where my family and Oakley were.
The other coach intercepted us and made a similar offer. Before I could speak, Shutout did.
“Thanks, Coach, we’ll let you know.”
“Bet the Cubs have already made their move,” the other coach said, and we chuckled. “The Cubs don’t deserve both Michaelsons!”
“Ya too late, fucker!” the Cub’s coach yelled, and I laughed.
Oakley was bouncing on her toes, and Dad helped Oakley climb over.
I swept her up into my arms as she clambered over, kissed her soundly, and hugged her tightly.
Oakley was babbling away. I was barely taking her words in as my mind whirled. I’d been offered a chance at my dream. Today had possibly been a fluke, but I had skills. I might not hit another four-game home run, but I could hit three. That I was confident of.
“Harley?” Dad asked.
“The Cubs want me to trial for them and see their doctors.
“What?” Oakley gasped, leaning back in my arms.
“Yeah,” I replied, stunned.
“Carmine’s team wants you to play for them? That’s wonderful, your dream come true! I was going to suggest getting checked again. No way could you have batted like that with a bad arm,” Mom exclaimed.
“That was a hell of a game. Talk about getting your name out there. The offers will flood in,” Ace stated, slapping me vigorously in delight.
Ace’s words made me hit the ground with a thud.
“Yeah, well, it won’t happen,” I replied.
“What?” Dad demanded.
Everyone looked surprised and ready to tear me a new one if I turned this opportunity down.
“I’ve got the Smithy and being a prospect. There’s Oakley to consider, too,” I responded. For a second time, my dreams were slipping through my fingers.
“Shut the fuck up!” Oakley exclaimed, hitting my chest.
“Huh?” I asked, looking down.
“This is your chance. You cannot throw this away. Something can be arranged around the Smithy, can’t it, Drake? If you finish the orders you’ve got already and don’t take any more on. Shutout and Ice both prospect from afar, can’t Harley?” Oakley demanded of Dad.
Dad looked at me. “Harley, your heart broke when you realised you couldn’t play. This is a chance nobody would deny you. Pack whatever you need, son, because you’re going to Chicago.”
“But shower first,” Mom demanded, sniffing.
I began laughing as Oakley nodded vigorously. Even so, a hint of reluctance remained. Could I handle rejection a second time?
Ten days later.
I sat in Coach’s office with the manager of the team and two doctors. My hands twitched, on edge.
The last few days had flown by. I had been poked, studied, and examined and was waiting for the results. Alongside that, I’d trained next to some of the Cub players who had been happy to come in and help test me. Shutout had called in a few favours; I’d no doubt of that.
Stern faces surrounded me.
“Harley. We’ve your results. The medical files from six years ago were correct. But the specialists didn’t take into account your youth and the resilience of muscles. The blacksmithing has helped repair the damage you had in that arm. You’re not one hundred per cent and never will be,” Doc Rower explained.
My hopes died, and I nodded. I was going to be turned away. What a damn fool I’d been to hope.
“However, you’re in peak condition, I’d put you at ninety-five per cent,” the doc finished.
“Well, thanks for everything. It was a pleasure,” I said, standing up and holding out my hand.
“Sit down, Michaelson,” Coach replied.
I frowned but did as told.
“We’ve trained you vigorously, Harley. Your ninety-five per cent is better than most players one hundred per cent. Damn, kid, I would have loved to see you at full strength. We’re all in agreement, you have an inane talent that can’t be dimmed. The Cubs would like to offer you a year contract and see where you sit after that.
“We think you have a chance. Despite a potentially shorter career, you’re a Hall of Famer. The doctors believe that over the years, the wear and tear on your injury will take its toll and shorten your career by a couple of years,” Coach said.
“A year contract?” I repeated, my mind whirling.
“Yeah. We’ll see how your mobility and arm are after that. That protects the club and yourself,” Coach stated.
“What do you think?” Craig Booker, the manager, asked.
“Can I discuss this with my family? I have a prosperous Smithy and can’t just walk away,” I inquired.
“Yes. Harley, we understand what a shock this is. It’s not every day you get a second chance at living your dream,” Booker said.
“No, and I’m stunned. Truthfully, I mourned the loss and then moved on. Now you’re offering me it again. This is hard to grasp.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. Go home to your family, talk it over,” Coach suggested, and I nodded.
◆◆◆
Oakley looked up as I walked into the hotel room we’d been using. She’d came to every practice session and attended all my appointments.
“Well?” she asked, bouncing on the bed.
“They’ve offered me a year contract. After that, they’ll reassess the injury and see how it is. They may be looking at me playing long term for them, but they reckon my career might be cut short because of my mobility range.”
“But you’re good enough to play for them now?” Oakley demanded.
“Yes. But I didn’t sign.”
Oakley frowned. “Why not?”
“Because I wanted to discuss this with you. You wanted a workshop. If I’m spending half my time in Chicago, that interferes with us. Oakley, I want you to have everything you wish for.”
“Harley!” Oakley gasped, a hand flying to her chest. She took several deep breaths, and I wondered if I’d screwed up when tears flooded her eyes.
“You’re willing to give up your dreams so I can live mine?”
“Babe, I don’t wanna spend months away from you. We’re building something. That comes first. No way will I put my needs before yours—or ours.”
“Harley!” Oakley cried again and scrambled off the bed and into my arms. Confused, I enfolded her in a tight hug and wondered why she was crying.
“Nobody apart from Grandad and Aspen ever put me before themselves.” Oakley sobbed.
“Babe, I’ll always ensure you get everything you want and need.” “I love you!” Oakley wailed, and I laughed.
“This isn’t the way I expected to hear your first I love you!”
“But I do!” “I know, and I love you. That’s why this is your decision, too.”
“Why can’t we have two workshops? I’ll work in Chicago when you’re here and then have one at home, too,” Oakley demanded as she wiped her tears.
“You decide, Oakley, but this needs to be a joint decision.”
“Then I choose you play ball, and I have two workshops. That’s acceptable. As long as we can move whatever I’m working on back to Rapid City when we spend the off-season there,” Oakley said.
“Sure. Mom has a private plane, remember?”
“So cool,” Oakley muttered.
“We’re in agreement that I sign, just for a year? We’ll reassess after that.”
“Yes! You had your dream stolen once, and I’d never destroy your second chance. Reach out, honey, with both hands and accept how lucky you are. You deserve this, Harley. Even if it only lasts a year, grab hold tightly and enjoy every moment of it. You get to play with your brother!”
“Thank you, babe, your support means so much. Guess I gotta call Mom and Dad, and then we need to decide what to do with the Smithy. Maybe the club can rent it out, I don’t want it just sitting there. The MC invested a lot of money in it, and although I’ve paid them back, it’s a waste.”
“Could you find someone who’d share it with you?” Oakley asked, stroking my chest.
“Probably. I’m going to have to work longer days to finish up the orders I have and then attend training. We need to find somewhere to live and get a workshop for you. And we need bedrooms for Aspen and Archer when we find them,” I said as my mind raced ahead.
Oakley’s hand stilled on my chest.
“You want them to live with us?” she asked with a hitch in her voice.
“Of course. We’ve no idea where they’ve been hidden or locked up. Aspen will need you with her, and Archer will need family,” I answered.
“I love you even more now!” Oakley wailed, and with a sigh, I pulled her in close. My girl was feeling emotional!