Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Foster
I zip up my coat, jog down the outside stairs of the condo, and pass through the security gate.
There’s another sign with The Dugout written on it, along with a bunch of notes.
Some are specific to one member of the team who lives here, and others are addressed to all of us with the hopes that at least one of us takes them up on their invitation.
The name The Dugout seems to have stuck for our three-condo building, but I don’t really give a shit about it.
Easton was pretty into the whole name thing.
Not sure why he cares. It’s not really about us, it’s about them, and by them, I mean the diamond girls.
They’re the ones who put us up on some pedestal as if they get into the Hall of Fame if they sleep with us.
For years, I took advantage of women and what they hoped would come after a night with me.
I do feel like a dick for my immature and childish behavior.
Later on in my career, I learned to lay it all out before I slept with a woman.
That stopped the online bashing and stalking afterward—for the most part.
I let the security gate shut behind me, leaving the sign on the gate. If it makes them think we’ll get their notes, what’s wrong with giving them a little hope?
For some reason, when I think of diamond girls, Callie comes to mind. Not that she is one. It’s just that I think she feels like one since we slept together. I hate that, but I have no idea what to do about it. I certainly can’t tell her I’ve been thinking about her nonstop.
As I turn right to head to the pancake restaurant to meet Jagger, my mind won’t stop traveling back to Callie. I’ve racked my head to figure out what makes her different.
When Hayes talked about his sister when we played together in Seattle, I was always like cool, you have a younger sister.
She sounds badass, starting her own podcast and shit.
That’s awesome. I thought it was great that he had a good relationship with her since I barely have any relationship at all with my one and only sibling.
Then I came face to face with her last year, and not under the best circumstances. My introduction to Callie was her coming at me with her finger wagging, dark hair flying in all different directions, face red. Even with my broken nose and mild concussion, my dick got hard.
I wanted to push her against the wall, sandwich my thigh between her legs, and tell her to go to town.
Her anger toward me had turned me on, and out of all the sex I’ve had, that was a first. Usually if someone comes at me, I’ll return the treatment ten times harder.
My relationship with Decker is proof of that.
I wanted her so fucking badly, and even after having her, I want her again.
Lusting after your best friend’s sister is complete and utter torture. I can’t remember the last time I couldn’t have something I wanted. Well, that’s not exactly true. I should’ve grown used to that when I was a teenager. I mean it more in the sense of sex and women.
I cross the street and open the door of the pancake house, pushing away the thought of Callie because nothing can come of us anyway. It’s an exercise in futility.
Jagger raises his hand when he spots me, and I weave through the tables, dodging the kids running back and forth from their table to the glass window where they can see the guy making pancakes. I slide the chair out across from him.
“Who dared put Jagger Kale in the corner?” I fold myself into the seat, turning over my coffee cup.
“Late as usual.”
I lift my wrist, staring at an imaginary watch. “I’m not late.”
Jagger lifts his wrist, where a very real, very expensive watch rests. “Five minutes.”
I blow out a breath. “Sorry, Dad.”
A server comes over and fills my coffee. “Do you need a few more minutes?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“No,” Jagger says over me. “Figure out what you want while I order.”
“Okay, daddy dearest.” I pick up the menu and scan it. I’m not really sure what this place is all about. There’s a pancake guy who makes different shapes? This is some family shit right here.
“Egg white omelet, spinach, mushroom, and parmesan cheese. And I need a pancake in the shape of a…” He lifts his phone and scrolls with his thumb for a moment. “A rose?”
The server laughs. “I can’t wait to see what she comes up with next.”
“The family will be with me next month, so she can order herself.” Jagger smiles.
“That’s nice. You’ll be here for the Falcons?” She leans a hip against the table.
I use the extra time I’ve been given to go over the menu again.
“Yeah. They’re for sure gonna be in the playoffs again this year.”
I roll my eyes. The Chicago Falcons are the “it” Chicago team. It’s awesome for them, but I wouldn’t hate it if they shared some of their success with the Colts. Being traded onto a struggling team wasn’t my favorite part of moving here after being on a winning team for so long.
“Okay, genius, it’s your turn.” Jagger pulls me out of my thoughts, and when I look up, the server is staring at me.
“Three eggs, sunny side up, hash browns, bacon, and sausage, please.” I hand her the menu after she writes it down.
“I guess you’re not watching your diet.” Jagger hands her his menu. “Thanks, Reese.”
She walks away, and I settle in for the lecture I know is coming, sipping my coffee and acting as if I’m not interested in anything he has to say.
“I’m just going to cut to the chase. Your performance wasn’t stellar.”
I huff. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
He leans back in his seat and strums his fingers on the table, eyes laser-focused on me. I’ll hold his gaze for as long as he wants me to without blinking. No one intimidates me, even the man who gets me my deals.
“You’re roughly four years from retirement, at best.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Putting me out to pasture already?”
His lips thin. He’s never been one for my grumpy ass, but he came to me all those years ago. He wanted me, and over the years, he’s reaped a lot of benefits from it.
“Put your pride on a shelf for a second. My job is to make you as much money as I can doing what you love. And when those days are nearing a close, I feel responsible to set you up for the future.”
“Ah… that’s sweet, Daddy.”
He gives me his cut-the-shit expression I’m very familiar with, and I turn away from him, trying to remember that he only wants what’s best and he’s not judging me. He’s not my dad lecturing me about my work ethic or the pitch I threw in the seventh that gave up the game.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
He shakes his head with that disapproving father look except there’s still affection in his eyes, something I’d never find in my own dad’s. “You need an endorsement, Foster. A really good endorsement.”
I open my mouth, but he continues.
“I’m not sure how you are with your money.
You’ve had some great contracts. Sure, this last one wasn’t what you were looking for, but it got you out of Seattle, which was our main goal.
Chicago’s management wanted you. You’re the reason Vega was out as manager, because he wouldn’t entertain you coming to the Colts.
So, you’re still wanted, and that’s all that matters in this business, but there’s going to come a time when you aren’t.
You’ll have your own feelings about that at the time, and my job is to make sure you can survive while you’re lost in your pity party. That you can support a wife and kids.”
I scoff.
“Oh yeah, I forgot you’re too cool for a family, right?”
“Some people aren’t meant to be a husband, let alone a father.”
He sighs and stares at me a long time, then shakes his head again. “I’ve told you this before, and I’m going to say it again—clean up your act.”
My forehead wrinkles. “I have.”
He glares at me.
“I’ve been good about my temper on the mound.”
“Let’s be honest, it’s the Hayes effect.”
I stare off because he’s right to an extent. Having Hayes behind the plate and working with him has calmed me, which doesn’t bode well for the fact that I want to bend his sister over any available surface and shove my dick in her.
“Still. My trouble outside—”
“You and your brother got in a brawl outside Webber Field last year.”
I sigh. “He hit me first in case it matters.”
He holds up his hand. “You haven’t had an endorsement since your first year in the league.
Let’s make this the year you get one. Be a good teammate, don’t lose your temper, and keep all the shit off the field quiet.
You hate Decker. I don’t give a shit.” He hums. “I do, but that’s a conversation for another time. ”
I know Jagger has a point. I’m good with my money, I am, but there’s a big dent in it now.
I’ve always wanted endorsements. Some players earn a shit ton.
And some endorsements go long past retirement.
Let’s be honest, I don’t have a ton of job qualities past throwing a really great fastball and slider.
I let out a long breath. “Let me know what I need to do.”
He smiles, and the server brings our food to the table.
Jagger swings his tie so it rests over his shoulder.
The man is everything I usually hate. What people must think seeing the two of us at the same table.
With my neck and hand tattoos, they probably think I’m a felon and he’s my lawyer, trying to negotiate me a plea deal.
We couldn’t be more opposite, and in all honesty, Jagger Kale is the first guy in a suit I learned to trust. When he first showed up at one of my games and said he wanted to represent me, I walked right past him.
I didn’t want some guy in a three-piece suit, wearing a watch worth more than my dad made in a year.
Figured I was just a paycheck to him. But Jagger showed up again and again.
Eventually I listened, and even though my dad said we didn’t need him, I’ve never regretted giving Jagger the opportunity to represent me.
I’ve put him through enough shit to earn my respect.
“You baseball players always need me to dumb it down for you. Hayes was the same.”
I chuckle, picking up my fork. No surprise there.
“First off, get your head right on the mound. No fights. No arguing. No swearing at the umps.”
“That’s my whole persona on the mound.”
He lifts his gaze from his plate and stares at me with an expression that tells me my comment doesn’t deserve a response.
“Fine,” I grumble.
“And surprisingly, I don’t have to lecture you about the women. Did you go celibate? There’ve been no new pictures for quite a while.”
I bury my head in my plate. He can’t know that the only woman I want in my bed would demolish everything I’m trying to accomplish this year.
Hayes has made it clear that Callie can date whomever she wants, but Easton and I aren’t the kind of guys he’d like to see his sister with. Truth is, I can’t really blame him.
I shrug and stab one of the hash browns on my plate. “Not into it.”
He laughs and places his fork on the plate. “That sounds like trouble.”
“What is?” I bring my fork to my mouth.
“What hot-blooded pro athlete who can score multiple women a day isn’t into sex? Are you sure you’re not pining over someone?”
I stab another forkful of hash browns. “That life isn’t for me.”
Jagger doesn’t bother trying to tell me I’m wrong like he probably did with Hayes.
He knows the truth—I’m not anyone’s dream of a happily ever after.