Ren

“You plan on joining us in warm-up, Makavoy?” Hamlin called as I started another set of reps on the bench.

I had more than enough aggression to get out due to an early breakfast with Erica. We were staying in the same damned hotel and I didn’t know how to feel about it. Before the meeting in the conference room, the last time I saw her, she was wrapped around me against my front door, clinging for life as I drove into her like a crazed man, desperate to make sure she knew she had me in both body and heart.

No matter how hard I baited her that morning, she stayed on topic, not straying from the plans she had for me.

“Are you fucking serious?” I said as I shoveled in the last bite of my wheat banana pancakes.

“There is nothing wrong with being a big brother, Ren. Except don’t say fuck when you’re around him.” She kept her eyes on her tablet, while her long lashes danced along her cheekbones. Erica surpassed beautiful and was the most stunning woman I’d ever met. Her beauty was all natural. And it wasn’t just her silky black hair, deep-set brown eyes, or smooth, olive skin. She had a glow about her, a deeply-nestled charisma that made her loveable before she even spoke a word. It was the first thing I noticed about her. It’s what drew me to her. That and her sense of humor, which seemed to have vanished. The woman I knew had jokes; this woman had an agenda, and I hated it.

“It’s the most obvious publicity stunt ever,” I argued. “The media won’t buy that I’m trying to be a positive role model.”

She widened her eyes as she twisted her hair into a bun on top of her head. “How about this novel idea. You actually try to make an effort to mentor a kid who needs your help.”

She knew I hated her hair up when we were together. I ignored it as I also tried to ignore the sight of her perfect tits in a sports bra, flimsy T-shirt, and yoga pants. Fuck me, she looked perfect.

“Not a good move,” I dismissed. “What’s next?”

“It’s happening. He’ll be at the field tomorrow after school for an introduction. His name is Malcolm Bruce, and he’s thirteen. You’re his idol, and he’s been in and out of foster care for years.” Realization struck as I pushed my plate away and glared at her.

“What are you trying to do, dredge up the sympathy card?”

“I’m trying to remind you of where you came from,” she said in a whisper. “You’re a twenty-seven-year-old millionaire with the world at your fingertips. It wouldn’t hurt him to see a future is possible no matter the circumstances he’s in now.”

“I’m a fucking lottery winner,” I said. “This won’t change anything for him.”

“He’s varsity potential and an all-around catcher at thirteen years old. So, I’m going to disagree with you on that,” she said, popping a piece of melon ball into her mouth. “And you worked your way up to the MLB. You didn’t win anything. You earned it.”

I couldn’t argue with her there. I’d spent a majority of my life working my way to the season I was about to play. And her compliment didn’t go unnoticed, but I was too busy staring at her peaked nipples to acknowledge it.

“Stop staring at my chest. Jesus, Ren, you and Malcolm will probably get along famously with your maturity level.”

“Hey, apparently your nipples are reminiscing with the way they’re waving at me,” I said with a shrug. Her olive complexion reddened. She used to beg me with the lips she was biting. I swiped my tongue over my lower lip, and she stared at me blankly before snapping back to focus.

“So, back to Malcolm. We’ll see how it goes and then take it from there. We won’t release anything until we’re ready.” I was shaking my head while she spoke. “I won’t manipulate the media at the cost of hurting some kid’s feelings.”

She looked me over with lost, glossy eyes as if she had seen a ghost. “There may be some decency left in you, Ren. And it won’t be manipulating if it’s the truth. What exactly are you doing that is so important with your time? You can’t make a little room for a kid who wants to believe life is better than being passed around like he’s been for the last few years? Like you were?”

I was in three foster homes before I graduated high school, but I had no complaints. The families were friendly, but I didn’t take part in any family-like activities. I didn’t leave any of the homes as a favorite child. Only one family kept in touch and managed to come to a game. I remembered the day they visited me. They asked for money. I gave it to them and never let them back in. I didn’t even blame them. I wasn’t angry, but I was done pretending I was ever a part of any family. Because I wasn’t. I didn’t have one, but I eventually hoped for my own. Hoped with the woman who sat in front of me. I wanted to have as many kids as I could put in her. I wanted a house full of brown-eyed girls, and if we were lucky, a little slugger to teach ball to.

“Ren?” Erica looked over at me as I brushed the thoughts aside and wiped my hands free of crumbs. My anger slid back into place.

“Fine. Tomorrow.” I pushed my chair back, and it slammed into the table behind me.

“Ren,” she said in a whisper. “I’m sorry if this upsets you.”

Her posture screamed coward, but her words rang sincerely. It didn’t matter. No matter how relieved I was to just lay eyes on her the day before, or how much I wanted to understand why she left and forgive her, I couldn’t. Not in that moment and maybe not ever. Because in all honesty, it hurt. She. Just. Fucking. Hurt. “Don’t bother being sorry now, Erica,” I said as I swiped my hat from the table and left her there.

“Makavoy!” Hamlin snapped, breaking me out of my pissed off bench press. How many reps had I done? Did it even fucking matter?

“Jesus, man, what are you doing pushing and without a spot? You’re a toddler,” Hamlin scolded as he pulled the bar up and set it on the rest.

Grabbing my gear, I followed him onto the field where he directed me.

“Go warm up with Hembrey and meet me back here for some mitt work. I have some things I want to go over.”

“Aye, aye,” I muttered as I paused my feet before I spoke at his retreating back. “Who’s that with Hembrey?”

Hamlin was already gone as I took another step forward and my mood lifted when I saw the stance of the catcher. “No fucking way.” I jogged over to see Rafe rocket a ball toward the man in my place behind home plate.

“Pracht, what in the hell are you doing here?” I asked like a giddy fucking school girl.

Andy stood and grinned at me behind his mask. “Sup, Tin Man? I heard you were having problems with your period. When are you assholes going to let me quit this game?”

He threw the ball back to Rafe and tossed my mitt at me before we clasped hands and bumped shoulders.

“It’s you that’s on the rag, isn’t it? Now that you’re all housebroken. How’s the kid?”

“I had twins, idiot,” Andy said with the shake of his head. “They are fine. You want to explain to me why this dipshit here decided that I needed to uproot my family this season to come babysit you?”

No matter how much he protested, I knew he was happy to be back on the field. It showed on his face, in his posture. It was in his blood.

“You probably booked a flight the minute you got the call,” I said, sliding my hand into my glove. “Thanks for ruining my mitt with your fat-ass fingers.”

“One of us has to use it properly,” he barked. “You sure you want to stick your hand in that without wiping it down? I changed a few diapers before I got here.”

I cringed at the thought, and Andy had a good laugh at my expense.

“I bet you still look at people who sneeze like they are terrorists,” he joked as Rafe approached us from the mound.

“What’s going on?” I asked between them. “Are we having a slumber party? Andy, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your balls are gray and your knees are shit, so I know you aren’t playing.”

Andy ran a hand through his goatee. “Fuck yourself, Makavoy. I’m here to get you through the season.”

“A consultant of sorts,” Rafe added with a clap on my back. Pride stood in the way of me being fully happy with Andy’s arrival.

I studied Rafe. “Think I can’t call the balls anymore, Hembrey?”

Rafe shook his head. “No, man, not at all. But what could it hurt?”

There was something I couldn’t put my finger on, but I let it go because, honestly, nothing was sweeter than having them both in my corner. If management didn’t have a problem with it, I sure as shit didn’t. Andy was an expert strategist, and though I prided myself on being the same, I put that pride in the backseat when it came to the logistics of baseball. Masterminded shit went into planning every game, and Andy was a welcome ally.

“Glad you’re here, man,” I said honestly and clapped his back.

“Beautiful fucking reunion, guys,” Rafe taunted, “but I’m warmed up. So, let’s do our jobs.”

He was full of fire and feeling himself, so Andy and I indulged. And for that short time on the field, just the three of us, I felt a swell in my chest. I might never have had a real family in the sense that everyone else did, but I did have brothers in baseball.

And maybe Erica was right. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give that to someone else.