CHAPTER TWO
Calvin
“See those honeys over there?” Ace asked, wrapping an arm around my neck, strong-arming me into looking in their direction.
“Yeah.”
Where in the hell was he going with this?
“You can have any one of them. Ya know why?” He went on without giving me a chance to answer. “I’ll tell ya why. Cause you’re a starting pitcher for the best damn team in the league.” He mussed my hair and finally released me from his grip.
Trying not to act like a loser, I told him, “I have the only girl I need.”
Oh shit! Whitney!
The bottle of Jack was half empty, that was more than just one drink. I dug into my pocket and pulled out my phone – four missed calls and several texts. “I have to make a phone call,” I said, excusing myself from the table. Marty and Frank were arguing over who the better player was, Babe Ruth or Willie Mays.
No brainer, Babe Ruth for sure!
Ace had moved on from the blonde waitress to a tall brunette with legs that you could climb for days. “You’re not leaving?” Ace asked, gripping my arm as I walked by.
“No,” I assured him, jerking away. “I’ll be right back.”
I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, and with the loud music in the club, I didn’t hear my ringer. Dread clawed at my stomach as I dialed Whitney’s number. “Hey, babe!” I said, overly cheerful as she answered.
“Where are you?” she asked. God, it felt good to hear her voice. Even her pissed off worried voice.
“Some of the guys wanted me to have a drink with them here at Home Plate,” I explained, hoping my enthusiasm would be contagious, and she’d lighten up a little. “Ace Newman is on my team, babe, Ace motherfucking Newman!” My enthusiasm was met with silence from the other end. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m at your apartment,” she snapped. She wasn’t pleased.
“Our temporary apartment,” I corrected her. “So you found the key okay then?”
“Yes. But Calvin, I thought you’d be here.” Her voice was full of disappointment.
“Sorry, babe. Time just got away from me. It’s loud in the club and the excitement of my first practice just… I fucked up, babe.” I looked around, making sure no one witnessed me sounding like a pussy. “I’m sorry,” I pleaded for her forgiveness.
She exhaled loudly, and her voice shifted. I smiled into the phone, knowing I’d been forgiven.
“I’ve just missed you, Cal. I want to see you. Are you coming home soon?” Her tone was purring through the phone like a little kitten. Yes, I was coming home. I couldn’t wait to hold her in my arms, smell her perfume, and taste the sweetness of her nectar.
“I’ll tell them I’m leaving now. I love you,” I said, dropping my voice, arranging my jeans and the instant hard on she always gave me.
“I love you too.”
“Everything good?” Ace asked with a wink.
“Yeah, but I gotta take off,” I explained. “Whitney’s been waiting on me for a while.”
The brunette was on his lap, her arm around him, her head leaning on his shoulder. I glanced at his hand; it was just above knee level. I wondered if he had already given her a hand job or if he was just working up to it.
“No way, we were just getting ready for shots,” Ace argued and boosted the girl from his lap. “Baby, go get us five shots of Patrón.” He handed her a hundred-dollar bill. “One shot, then you can go.”
His smirk told me there was no getting out of this. Practice proved he could be a real hard ass, and the last thing I needed was to be on Ace Newman’s bad side. Besides, I’d just had my first ever practice as a professional major league baseball player. Didn’t I deserve a little celebration?
“One shot,” I agreed.
Two blondes, both wearing skirts so short and tight you could almost see their pussies, pushed their way through the crowd and towards our table. I had refused to sit down, knowing that Ace would convince me to stay longer if I did, so one grabbed me around the waist, sidling close behind me. Her hands slid across my abs and up to my chest.
“You’re the new pitcher. Calvin Malone, right?” she whispered against my shoulder. Her friend giggled and stared at Ace with batting eyelashes and pouty red lips.
“Yes,” I said, pulling her hands away from my body and turning to face her. She was beautiful. Young and tan with a pair of lips that looked capable of sucking the peel right off a banana.
“You’re much cuter than your picture,” she said, flirting in the same way her friend was with Ace.
Ace pulled the blonde onto his lap and began whispering something in her ear that made her giggle and blush. He was smooth, that was for sure. Women seemed to flock to him like bees to honey. The brunette returned with a tray of shots, setting them on the table. She glared at the blonde. If looks could kill, that girl would’ve been a goner for sure.
“There’s plenty of room,” Ace said smugly and patted his left knee. I was waiting for the brunette to sling a drink in his face, or at the very least tell him to fuck off, but no. She sat right down on his knee, smiled, and seemed happy enough to share his attention.
“To a fucking kickass season!” Ace shouted and held up one of the shot glasses. We each grabbed ours, repeated his chant, and downed the liquor. It was hot, my throat instantly swelling from the burn. My nostrils widened as I shuddered to push away the pain. Ace laughed. “I’ll turn you into a man yet, hot shot,” he boasted.
“Are you married?” the blonde asked, looking up at me through her mascaraed lashes. She was beside me now, her hands still roaming my chest and stomach.
“No, but I have a girlfriend,” I replied and took a step back.
She followed, moving so close her breasts pushed into my chest, her hands moving up to my shoulders. She lifted onto her toes. “No ring, then it’s not cheating,” she whispered in my ear.
I pried her off of me once again. “I’m not interested.”
I shot a look at Ace, who was now staring daggers through me. “You need to lighten up, hot shot,” he said, his lip curled in disgust. “These are your fans.”
“I just need to get home.” I set my glass down on the table and turned to leave. I almost bumped chests with a tall man with slicked back black hair. He wore an expensive designer suit, one that looked custom made, and smiled with a sincerity mixed with mischievousness that left me slightly intimidated.
“You mean you can’t stay and have a drink with the man who gave you this incredible opportunity?” He spoke with authority.
Shit, shit. Fucking shit.
Immediately, my palms began to sweat. I’d seen pictures of our owner, but never actually met him. “Rhett Hamilton,” he said, extending his hand to mine. His handshake was firm and as confident as his presence.
“Calvin Malone,” I said and felt immediately stupid. Of course he knew my damn name. “Glad to meet you, sir.”
“Sir? No, you call me Rhett, and I know who you are, boy,” he said with a chuckle.
The blonde who had been all over me earlier now seemed more interested in the owner of the team. I was relieved for that but felt panic as he insisted I stay and share a drink with him.
Whitney was going to be pissed.
“What are you drinking, Ace?” Rhett asked. “Patrón?”
“Oh, you know it,” Ace replied, seeming very comfortable around the man. “Shots all around,” he announced as he motioned the blonde waitress back to the table. She seemed irritated that Ace had found not only one woman to replace her, but two. “Right away,” she said with full female sarcasm.
“So, what do you think of the new team?” Rhett asked, directing his question to me. I was dumbfounded, a little star struck, and still nervous that I wasn’t on my way to Whitney.
“It looks like a great bunch of guys,” I replied. “I’m sure we’ll take the league by storm.”
“I like your attitude,” Rhett said as he pulled a chair from the table behind him and pushed it towards the booth. “Have a seat.” It didn’t sound like a suggestion, so I did.
Our shots arrived, and we all cheered before pouring them down our throats. It was smoother that time, not nearly as difficult to swallow.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I knew Whitney was becoming angrier by the minute. “I really need to go,” I told Ace.
“Rhett showing up and asking you to stay is not something you blow off,” Ace said sternly. “Especially for some girl.”
“She just moved here, and she isn’t just some girl.” My tongue felt thick, and the words started to slur from my lips. I was lightheaded, my stomach was churning, and the heat in my throat from the last shot was burning its way through my gut.
“Rookies with relationships never work,” Ace snarled. “One of two things happen. They dump the chick and go on to be amazing players, or they keep the girl and end up pumping gas at Sunoco.”
“You’re full of shit,” I argued. “It’s not like that.”
“Well, then, you need to break her in right, so sit, have another drink with your teammates and the man who signs your paycheck,” Ace insisted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe I was being so stupid. “She’s gonna have to get used to sharing you.”
I looked around the table, at the expectations staring back at me, and knew he was right. I was here because of Rhett Hamilton. The least I could do was give him a few minutes of my time. Whitney would just need to understand.
Rhett complimented me on my pre-season training. Apparently, he had been watching from the sidelines and through videos sent to him by the coaches. It felt good to hear him praise my efforts and even say he was lucky to have me on his team. Another shot was pushed in front of me, and then another.
It was getting late, but Ace kept insisting that Whitney was pissed already, so why not stay and make it worth it. The more shots I drank, the more sense Ace made.
I watched Ace’s hands, both of them traveling up the girls’ skirts. He pushed open the blonde’s legs, giving me a clear view of her shaved pussy before sliding his finger inside her. “Nice, huh?” he smirked.
Her hips rocked back and forth against his finger, her eyes closed. Her breathing became rapid, and she acted as if she would orgasm right there at the table while we all watched.
“You’ve always been a wild man, Ace.” Rhett laughed, watching the show. The brunette’s lips were suctioned to Ace’s neck as he continued finger fucking the blonde.
This guy acts like a rock star. It’s incredible.
Ace whispered something to the blonde, and she giggled. His finger slid out from between her legs, and she stood from his lap. Her eyes lingered on mine as she moved slowly toward me.
Fuck, no. Oh shit.
Before I could protest, she straddled me, grinding her sex into mine. Her skirt hiked up around her waist, she held onto my shoulders as she leaned back to give me a peek at the pink pussy Ace had just been teasing. Her flesh was smooth and pink, not a trace of hair anywhere. My cock hardened as her ass cheeks ground into my shaft. My eyes lifted from between her legs and focused on the large breasts that almost burst from her top.
Alcohol flowed through my veins, more prevalent than blood, and when she pulled my head down into the softness of her ample cleavage, I didn’t fight her as hard as I should have.
Shit. What the hell am I doing?
Unwinding her arms from around my neck, I lifted my face from her breasts, getting ready to pull her off me.
Slap!
The sharp sting on my cheek surprised the hell out of me. I looked at the blonde, thinking it had to have been delivered by her, but she was staring wide eyed at someone beside me.
As if in slow motion, my head turned, and fuck, fuck, fuck, Whitney was standing there, glaring down at me.
“Whitney,” I murmured, still in shock that she was truly there.
Her eyes were wild, her lips pursed tightly together, and her fists clenched by her sides making me think she was coming in for another swing. I pushed the blonde off my lap, stood and tried to reach for her.
She turned quickly, mumbled something that sounded like “fuck you,” and stormed toward the front door.