Current Day

Crack. I smile and take off running as the ball sails deep into left field. It hits off the wall, and the left fielder throws it back into play, but not before I’m standing at second.

I hold up my palm to signal to the umpire. Three weeks of playing ball and I can tell already this is going to be a good year. I’m hitting the best that I ever have. Bring on the regular season, I think as I wipe the sweat from my forehead. For being February, the humidity is unusually high.

Our second baseman comes to the plate. The pitcher sets, and I creep off the base. I have a decent lead when the bat connects with the ball. I run to third, and the third base coach waves me home. The cheering grows louder. The catcher sets up like he’s going to have a play, so I kick my speed up a notch and slide into home plate. The catcher’s glove sweeps across my midriff. My momentum carries me across the plate, but I keep my fingers on the plate.

“Safe!” My favorite word uttered by the umpire.

“Good hustle, Carrigan.”

I turn toward the fan—a pot-bellied man, retirement age, sporting a pink Phillies baseball hat and an Iron Pigs logo on his shirt—and tip my head. I gotta respect a guy who’s man enough to wear pink. I fucking love spring training. Exercise and calisthenics can only do so much. The field is where the real workout begins. The warm breeze sweeping away the winter lull, the ritualistic routines being reimplemented, and the tension from the triple-A players giving their best in hopes to not get cut. The best part is the fans cheering like every game is the playoffs. I fucking love my job.

My gaze shifts to the right and falls on the blonde who seems to show up everywhere. The corners of her lips draw up like she’s privy to a secret that only we share. My eyes narrow as I avert my gaze to the dugout. The woman is relentless, I’ll give her that.

“Off day tomorrow, so we hanging tonight?” Down to our last out, AJ slips on his catcher’s gear.

“I don’t know. Depends.”

“Well, we could stay inside your room and knit. Maybe find your balls inside the yarn bag.”

“My balls are right here, asshole.” I grab my crotch and smile.

“I think it’s great that you’re reacquainting with your past love and all that. I get it, but that doesn’t mean you stop living. What are you afraid of?”

I would never cheat on Jocelyn, but our relationship is new, fragile. “Jocelyn’s been burned too many times, so her trust factor is low. I just don’t want something to crop up.”

“You know, one way to build trust is to prove you’re trustworthy. Staying hidden doesn’t prove anything.”

Good point.

The last out is made. I grab my glove, and as we charge the steps, I slap AJ on the back. “You know, that’s the most philosophical thing you’ve ever told me.”

“Fuck you. Get your ass out there so we can shut them out.”

“Don’t think the time changed much since you last checked.” Laughter and loud conversations drown out the sarcastic overtone of AJ’s voice. My gaze rolls to the two wannabe comedians sitting across from me in the booth. Zach has the decency to cover his mouth with his fist in a halfass attempt to hide his laughter, but AJ sits with a smile spread so wide it’s like he’s daring me to smack him.

“If you must know, I told Jocelyn I’d call at eleven. We have about twenty minutes.”

“Fine, I gotta piss, then we’ll get your Cinderella-ass home.” AJ rises from the seat and smirks. “Wouldn’t want you turning into a pumpkin.”

“It disturbs me you know so much about fairy tales.” I place my phone on the table as Zach bursts into laughter.

“What can I say? I have a younger sister with a flair for the dramatic. Watched a lot of that shit growing up.”

Zach slaps a palm on the table while tossing back the last of his bottle. “I’m taking off. See you on the field tomorrow.”

“Later.”

We went light on the beers tonight. There may not be a game tomorrow, but we still have practice. As Zach leaves, I check my phone one more time. Fifteen minutes to go. God, I’m turning into some whipped guy, but I can’t wait to hear her voice. I definitely can’t wait to feel her body again. My hand doesn’t compare to the warmth of her pussy, but damn, our last night together gave me enough material to last the entire baseball season. Hell, my dick strains against my shorts right now picturing the satisfied gleam in those chestnut-colored eyes as I rammed my cock into her. Her body, spent and sated, needed help in the shower. Then, I took her again while the water sprayed down on both of us. It was the perfect send-off. But apart from all that, I just miss her.

A tall, skinny glass is set in front of me and knocks me back to the reality of being in a Florida bar. I turn to a way too familiar blonde, who shimmies up beside me.

“Since you won’t buy me a drink, I’ll buy yours.”

My gaze flits to the dark amber liquid that reeks of rum. No way in hell will I accept that. Drinking with some crazed fan is not on the agenda tonight or any night. I inch away, putting distance between her and the drink. “I’m good, but thanks.”

“Oh, come on. Your friend left.” She leans closer and lowers her voice, her floral scent overshadowing the rum. “He can’t run and tell his wifey on you. You won’t get caught.”

My back stiffens. Is she implying Lacey will blab to Jocelyn? I suppose anyone with Google could easily figure out they’re best friends, but having some woman recite it like she’s Goddamn Wikipedia dips into Freaksville, USA. I swallow, wondering what the hell is taking AJ so long.

“Look, I don’t know your game, but I’m not interested.” Being rude to people goes against every grain in my body, but this chick isn’t picking up my subtle hints. Outside of telling her to get lost, I don’t know what to say.

“You need to relax, sweetheart. Your teammate isn’t having any trouble.” She scoots the drink closer and turns to her left. I follow her gaze. Son of a bitch. Standing at the end of the bar is my ride with a brunette draped over his arm. Shot glasses in each hand, they sling both shots, back to back. He tosses his head back in laughter, clearly not giving two fucks about me needing to leave. Looks like I’m driving back. That is if I can peel him away from the girl.

“Why don’t you ditch him and meet me around the corner if you’re worried someone may see us. I can be discreet.”

What the hell is up with this chick?

“Lady”—and that’s using the term loosely—“I’m not interested. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” I have a phone date I don’t want to miss.

She blows out a frustrated breath and slides out of the booth. The air around me clears as she carries her overbearing scent with her. “Fine. I’ll wait a little longer. But make no mistake, you’ll have me again.”

Again? When did I ever have her to begin with?

Heavy footsteps slap against the concrete floor, and I’ve never been so relieved to see my roommate. The woman dips her head and walks away.

“Who the hell was that?” AJ eyes the full drink and downs it before I stop him.

“Nobody.” No use making a scene. I’m sure she’s harmless, but I make a mental note to ask Zach if he remembers anything about her. “Took you long enough.”

“No use wasting good alcohol.” He slams the glass down. “Come on, princess. Let’s get you back to your kingdom.”

“As soon as you hand over the keys.”

“I’m not drunk, but to ease your mind, here ya go.” He tosses me the keys to the rental, and I catch them midair. “I hope you know, I could’ve scored with a beautiful brunette.”

“I’m surprised you’re not bringing her back.”

“Eh, not feeling it tonight. My bones feel it today. Kicking back and binge-watching Godless.”

I laugh. No one would picture this wild guy as a lover of westerns, but his ass has made me suffer through Deadwood. All thirty-six episodes. “You’re going to kick back and pass out.”

“I’m not drunk.”

Ten minutes later we pull into the parking lot, and I look over at AJ, who’s slumped over in the seat. Not drunk, my ass.

“You okay, there buddy?”

“Mmm-yeah,” he slurs.

Great. I shake my head and round the truck. When I open the door, he falls onto me, my shoulders bearing the brunt of his upper body weight. How the hell is he this shit-faced? He was fine when we left. All he had after going to the bathroom was two shots and a glass of whatever psycho lady had. Uneasiness clings to my stomach like my shirt during this Florida heatwave. Surely, there wasn’t anything in that drink.

Somehow managing him out of the truck and over to the stairwell, I pause and glance at the staircase leading to our rental. “Twenty steps to go, buddy. Help me out here.” I nudge him forward, and he lifts a foot onto the step.

“You’re a good friend.” AJ brings up his free hand and pats my chest, his words barely audible.

“I know. Grab the handrail there and help a friend out.” Please. He stumbles and almost drags me down with him, but we climb the stairs, one excruciatingly slow step at a time.

“I serious…you deserve happiness.”

“Thanks, buddy. Let’s concentrate on the stairs. Only three more to go.”

“I almost had…once. Blew it.”

“You had what? One more, there you go. Stay put.” I find the key while he slumps over me like a rag doll. He teeters, and I grab hold of his back to keep him upright. Shit, I’m glad I insisted on driving.

“Almost. Once. Good guuuurlll.” He stumbles through the door and falls forward.

“Fuck!” I catch him before he face-plants on the ceramic tile and heave him back into a half-standing position. “Couch, now.”

He follows my demand, and when he reaches the sofa, he pats me on the chest again.

“Cupcake…good…too good.”

“You want a cupcake? Hardly the time to be eating right now, buddy. Here, lie down.”

“Nope, never got taste.” He snorts and then passes out. I prop him up and on his side in fear of him vomiting. Call me crazy, but I’d rather not be responsible for choking our star catcher.

When he looks stable, I pull out my phone and Facetime Jocelyn. She’s no doubt wondering where the hell I am.

“There you… What’s wrong?” Her warm greeting cuts short the moment she sees my face.

“It’s AJ. He’s passed out cold on the couch. It was a struggle to get him up here.”

“Is he okay?”

“I think so. It’s weird though. He had a few shots, then downed a drink before we left. He acted fine, but by the time we got home, he’s all shit-faced, making no sense at all.”

“Is he breathing normally?”

“Yeah, he seems to be doing okay.” I plant my ass down in the recliner next to him. It looks as if a long night is ahead of me. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I expected our night to go.”

“That’s okay, but—” A line etches between her brows. “Are you sure he’s fine? Something doesn’t feel right.”

I lean over and shake his shoulder. “You okay, man?”

A mixture of jumbled words greets me before he sinks back to oblivion.

“I’ve seen AJ drunk, but he’s never been this trashed. And it’s weird because he never drank that much. Just a couple beers before the party fest at the end.”

“And you were with him the whole time?”

“Other than when he had two shots with a brunette.”

“It’s just, I don’t know. You think he was roofied?”

“The thought came to mind.” Along with the mixed drink from the nameless blonde. If she did this, then I need to figure out her reasoning.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” My best poker face slides in place to keep her from worrying. The last thing I want to do is alarm her, but I need to make sure she and the kids stay safe. “But promise me you’ll be aware of your surroundings.”

“I am a mother, ya know. Being aware is automatically programmed.”

“Still, be extra careful. There are some strange people out there. And stay away from that blonde if you see her. Or any crazy women, for that matter.” To lighten the mood, I plaster my best cocky smile on and add, “I am a star, you know. One of the hottest, or so rumor has it.”

I laugh when she rolls her eyes. Another garbled sound comes from Sleeping Beauty and draws my attention. When I look back at my phone, those beautiful chestnut eyes hold worry.

“He doesn’t need a hospital, does he?”

“He’s breathing fine. I think he just drank too much toward the end. Besides, he’d kill me if I took him. He’s two seasons away from being a free agent. The last thing he needs is to give them ammunition to trade him.” Rumors are starting to circulate.

“I guess as long as he’s stable.”

“So far he is. I’m a little disappointed though. I had plans for us tonight, Ms. Kennedy.” Thank fuck she took back her maiden name. Ms. Burger falling from my lips makes me cringe.

“What did these plans consist of, Mr. Carrigan?”

“Something about a live video, nakedness, and a hell of an imagination.”

We head back to Philadelphia in three weeks, but we don’t play in New York for another week after that. Four more weeks before I can physically see her, hold her.

“Rain check, lover boy.”

Hmm, is she joking? I wasn’t sure she’d be game or not. AJ stirs on the couch, and I let out a groan. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“I’ll let you go so you can attend to him, but one last thing.” The picture blurs momentarily and then sharpens to a perfect set of tits.

Holy shit.

Before I can say anything, the screen darkens. I adjust myself to relieve the pressure and glance at AJ. He lets out a groan right as a wetness pools in his crotch.

“Jesus, buddy.” Something’s just wrong. He’s never pissed himself before. My size thirteens pace the floor as I wait for Zach to answer.

“Yo.”

“How much did AJ drink tonight?”

“I don’t know, not much. Why?”

“Because he’s passed out on the couch, and he just pissed himself.”

“What the fuck? How late did you two stay, after I left?”

“Not long. He had two shots with some girls, then downed my rum and coke.” Or whatever the drink was.

“That shouldn’t have made him that drunk. Do you need me to come over?”

I run a hand through my hair as I stand next to him. “Can you? We can take turns sleeping, but I’m seriously contemplating taking him to the hospital.”

“He’d fucking kill you.”

“Better than him being dead. What if his drink was spiked?”

“Who the fuck would spike his drink?”

“He may not have been the intended target.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember the blonde that approached me at Arti’s?”

“Mmm, not really.”

“It was the night after losing the MVP award…never mind, the point is, she’s here.”

“At the apartment?” I pull the phone away at his pitched voice.

“No, dumbass, in Florida. She was at the bar tonight and brought me the drink after you left. What if she spiked it?”

“Rather full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’m serious. Something isn’t right.”

“We can’t take him to the hospital. If they run a tox screen and find something, it’d ruin him.”

“Just get your ass here.”

“I’m starting the car now.”

When the engine revs to life, we hang up. In the past two years of living together, AJ’s never done drugs that I’m aware of. I don’t think he’d take anything. Maybe those shots were double strength? Who knows? I shake my head. The chick’s a little forward, but she doesn’t seem psychotic. I called her that but didn’t actually mean it. I look at my friend lying there like a Goddamn baby, piss and all. Something strange happened tonight.

“What the hell happened?” AJ’s low voice breaks through the morning haze. Zach stirs awake in the recliner as AJ swings his legs around and plants his feet on the floor. “What are you doing here, Pritchett?”

“Making sure your intoxicated ass doesn’t die.”

“What the hell is that smell?” AJ scrunches his nose and sniffs.

“You.” I hand him a glass of water and two Tylenols. “You had a rough night last night.”

“Thanks, but why do I feel like death?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Zach leans his elbows on his knees awaiting the answer.

AJ shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts. “We left the bar and everything is blank after that.”

I clear my throat, hating to ask but needing the answer. “Did you take any drugs?”

“The fuck—”

“I only ask because”—I look toward Zach and he nods, an understanding passing between us—“we think you may have been roofied.”

AJ pulls his head back in surprise and then grimaces. “Why? Why would someone do that to me?”

“You may not have been the intended target, but we don’t know for sure, but did you want to go to the hospital? To, you know”—I shrug—“be tested?”

“No! God, no. That’s the last thing I want.”

The sudden relief working through my bones alerts me to the guilt I’ve been carrying all night. “I understand, which is why we didn’t take you, but maybe the police—”

“No. Any publicity, good or bad, is the last thing I want. Not right now.”

“Okay, but they may have a surveillance video—”

“No. I’m fine.” He lifts off the couch. “I’m going to get a shower.”

When his feet carry him across the tile, I look back at Zach. “What should we do?”

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do.” He tugs on his shoes. “It’s up to AJ if he wants to pursue this. I’m heading back to the apartment. Need help, let me know.”

Proving it was her may be impossible, but I’ll pay better attention to her actions now. In three weeks, we’ll be back in Philadelphia, and then the following week in New York to play the Mets where I’ll be able to hold my woman. Until then, I’ll do nothing but eat, sleep, and breathe baseball. No going out to Florida bars and no more potential poisonings. Zach may not believe the blonde mystery woman did it, but I’m not willing to take the risk. I can be a saint for the rest of spring training.