Chapter 3 #2
“Damn, Holloway. Thought you were lying,” Dante Russo says, slapping Jake on the shoulders. “Thought for sure he got some signal crossed somewhere.”
“Nope,” Jake replies. “He was just about to tell me why he needs help, but you dipshits rolled in here.”
“Oh? Help?” Alberto Hernandez asks, dragging a bar stool to the side of me. “Baseball or women? I help.”
I chuckle as I look at the shortstop phenom.
Arriving from the Dominican Republic, Alberto made an immediate splash as a player to watch.
His English isn’t the best, and he’s gotten himself in trouble more than once with extracurricular activities.
He’s also a ladies man, and has been responsible for more than one bar fight between women who thought they were the only one he was fucking.
“I don’t think I need your help with women.
I do need advice on a woman, though, but on a strictly professional level. ”
“Layla?” Dante asks, reaching around my shoulder to steal a French fry.
“Hey!” I protest, but it’s too late. The fry disappears into Dante’s mouth. “But yeah. Layla.”
“You’re out of luck with that one, man. Especially when she sees what you’re eating,” I hear from behind us. Turning, I find Jackson Archer and Ryder Sullivan, the latter of whom is snapping a photo.
“Did you just take my picture?” I ask, and Ryder nods.
“Gotta send it to Layla. Boy is she gonna be pissed,” he says with a snort.
“Honestly, it’s bullshit that he gets to eat this, but we have to watch our diets,” Jackson whines. “He’s a billion years old. Aren’t you in danger of having a heart attack or something?”
“I’m thirty-five,” I remark dryly. “A few years shy of a billion.”
“I had a kale salad with grilled chicken for dinner,” he snaps. “You’re eating the greasiest hamburger I’ve ever seen. How is this fair?”
I’m tempted to make a big show of taking a huge bite of the burger, but I choose to refrain. A quick glance around the group tells me more than half are eyeing my burger with jealousy. “Uh, how many of you are sticking to Layla’s meal plans?”
Every hand shoots up.
“Seriously?” I ask incredulously.
Jake nods. “I’ve always been into eating healthy, and I like tracking data. Once I started following Layla’s meal plans, I really improved my sprint speed. And while I still need to track more data, I’ve seen an increase in my exit velocity at bat.”
“No shit,” I murmur.
Delgado nods. “My overall energy level is so much better. I used to be relieved when Coach would pull me in the seventh inning. Now I’m begging for him to let me finish out the game. I’m determined to get a no-hitter this year.”
“All of this because of a meal plan?” I ask warily.
“You need to give it a shot,” Jake says. Looking down at my greasy dinner, he laughs. “That may taste good, but no telling how it’s fucking up your game. What do you have to lose?”
“Well,” I mumble, “Coach said I couldn’t play unless I stick to Layla’s plans. But I pissed her off, so she refuses to work with me.”
“That’s why you aren’t on the roster for Opening Day?” Ryder screeches. I nod. “Fucking hell. Unbelievable.”
“Coach has it out for you or something?” Jackson comments. “This seems pretty unusual.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been here long enough to recognize his moods and behaviors.”
“Batting average is down,” Alberto chimes in, staring at his phone. “Definitely a drop from Bridge Point.”
“On-base average is down, too. Damn, old man,” Ryder says with a chuckle. “Did this slide start in Bridge Point, or did they trade you just in time?”
“I’m not in a slide,” I snap defensively. “And I wasn’t then.”
“Who replaced you?” Jake asks.
I slump against the bar. “Some young kid. I don’t even know if he’s old enough to legally drink.”
“Dropping the retiree for the young buck. That makes more sense.” Dante sneaks a hand over to grab another fry, but I don’t even attempt to stop him.
This entire conversation is making me lose my appetite.
“Lots of guys have a wobble when they start a new team. Since you’ve made it clear you really don’t want to be on this team, you need to strategize on how to show other teams you’re still a good asset to have. ”
“I’ve never said I didn’t want to be part of this team,” I mutter.
“Dude,” Jake says with a laugh. “You glare at all of us. You’ve bitched about how sunny it is here, and you hate sidewalks on the north side of your building, because the snow never melts. You don’t have to say anything. We’re not dumb.”
“It’s not you guys,” I say sullenly. “I thought I’d be ending my career in Bridge Point. The trade caught me off guard, and it has been incredibly difficult for me to feel settled here. I know my career is on the tail end, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next.”
“That isn’t important today,” Marcus says, his voice clear and loud. “Today, we focus on Opening Day. That is all that matters.”
The guys all nod in agreement, most piping in to say that I need to grovel with Layla. “But how am I supposed to do that? I’ve never groveled. I don’t know what I need to do.”
“You’ve never groveled.” Jake stares at me as he processes that tidbit of information. “Every man in the world has groveled a time or two. How have you managed not to fuck up with a woman before?”
“I don’t really have many long-term relationships, so the chances of having to grovel are pretty slim,” I say with a shrug.
After getting burned by my college girlfriend in extraordinary fashion, I swore off dating in general.
Other than some casual hookups, and a few women who I can routinely call for a good time, I stay away from women.
“So you’re saying a woman has never pouted? Demanded something from you? Played mind games because she was mad about something?” Jackson asks.
“Oh, those kinds of things? Alright. I guess I’ve had all of them happen.”
“And? How did you get yourself out of the jam?”
“Simple, really,” I answer. “I just went down on them. After the fourth or fifth orgasm, they usually forget what they’re mad about.”
Ryder grins. “We may need to come up with a different kind of groveling for Layla, Old Man. Pretty sure there’s a rule that we’re not allowed to fuck people associated with the team.”
Hence, the reason I can’t stop thinking about her. Men always want what they can’t have.