23. MATEO
twenty-three
I’m an animal unleashed.
After the first three innings, I still can’t get the sight of Torres’s jersey on Isabella’s body out of my head.
And anyone stepping up to the plate tonight against me is paying for it.
That asshole Torres, too.
Who makes a show of shaking out his hand every time I throw a fastball into his glove. The permanent grin on his face lets me know he can handle much more. And I plan on giving it to him.
After striking out the last player, I make my way to the dugout. I tune out the sound of the fans and keep my head down to make sure I don’t seek her out in the crowd.
I take my usual seat and close my eyes as I chug water while my guys get themselves ready to bat.
I don’t need to open them to know that Coach Weston is hovering next to me.
“You wanna tell me what’s crawled up your ass lately?” He places his foot on the bench next to me and leans his crossed arms on his knees.
“Got any complaints, Coach?” I open my eyes and toss my water bottle into the nearest trash bin.
He raises a brow at my tone. I have a reputation for being respectful at all times, even in the heat of the moment when our whole season is at stake. So I’m sure my attitude has come out of left field for Coach. “You’re playing a hell of a game, but at this rate, you might end up injuring yourself before we have a chance to make it to the postseason. So yeah, I’d say cool it a bit before it’s too late.” He steps back to leave but pauses. “So, uh, I suggest you sort out whatever’s on your mind before we’re having a different type of conversation. For the team’s sake.” He nods his head to where I know Anna and Isabella are sitting.
I bristle, angry at myself for not being able to reel in my emotions while also annoyed that my coach is a fucking intuitive mastermind.
He walks away, and for a moment, I believe I’m about to get a reprieve, at least while my guys are up to bat. That is, until I see her coming my way.
A legend in her own right. And someone I’m lucky my daughter will have as a role model.
Luisa álvarez, the first and only female general manager in major league baseball.
She’s someone whose opinion I value and deeply respect.
Except at a time like this, when I know she’s coming over to ream my ass over my aggressiveness on the field.
Her job was to create the Monarch team from scratch. Working with the former team owner before he passed to trade and offer deals to the best in the league. And she managed to get every single player on her list. Unlike most managers, she often heads down to the dugout to observe us from up close. Looking for strengths and weaknesses, and putting everyone on alert that we’re all replaceable if we’re not playing to the best of our abilities.
That’s why, when I see her coming my way with a fierce look on her face, I’m put on notice that she’s about to hand my ass to me.
And if I thought Coach’s chats were bad, I’m in for a hell of a wake-up call with Luisa. Not only is she smart, formidable, and talented at her job.
But she’s also Dominican.
And she’s free to let loose any Spanish curse words that I’m sure Isabella has on the tip of her tongue every time I’m dead set on pushing her buttons.
“Yo, Martinez. What the fuck’s crawled up your ass today?”
“Why’s everyone got something to say about my ass all of a sudden?” I ask defensively.
Her brows raise, as if I’m a toddler who just spoke back to his mother. And somehow, it makes me feel guilty.
“Sorry. I’ll reel it in.”
“Which part? The over one-hundred-miles-per-hour fastballs or the mean mug on your face? Because personally, I’m liking how you’re playing. But the aggression, the loud shouts after you pitch, and the evil eye you’re throwing the whole stadium? Yeah, that bit has to go before you scare off all the kids sporting your jersey tonight.”
I wince at the mention of a fucking jersey.
It shouldn’t be taking up this much space in my head. Especially during a game. I pride myself on being a true professional, so why the hell has this gotten so deeply under my skin?
I should shake it off. Rise above it all. I’m a grown man, a father, and a leader on this team.
Or…
I could…
A slow smile starts to creep over my face as I look up at Luisa.
“Ay dios mío. What the hell are you gonna ask me to do for you, Martinez? It better not be some weird superstitious shit.”
I chuckle as I shake my head. “I just need you to make a special delivery for me.”