Blake (Season One: The Ninth Inning #2) (5 page)

“Memphis, where I was born and raised, and I—” He stops, as if he was going to say something important, but changes his mind. “Wasn’t quite ready to leave yet,” he finishes.

“I’m surprised we haven’t crossed paths then. I mean, I was born and raised in Memphis and we seem to be about the same age. Where did you go to high school?” I finish my burger and wipe my hands.

“I went to a private school, Memphis University School. My mom wanted me to go there since it’s one of the best.”

“Oh, well we wouldn’t have crossed then. I’m closer to Germantown and grew up there.” I shake my head wondering what Blake had been like in high school. Had he been this hot?

“You had a great childhood then,” he says deadpanned, pushing his empty plate away.

“I guess. I mean, Mom put us into every sport you could imagine, but when Harmony and I were about twelve, we stopped all that. Thankfully, they never really pushed us into anything we didn’t like. They’re very supportive. I’m sure your parents are the same way.”

Blake glances away when I bring up his parents. “What made you become a massage therapist?”

“Well, it didn’t start out that way.” I grin at my chaotic career choices. “I wanted to be a doctor, then a nurse, then I put my hat into real estate, and then business. As you can tell, all of those I failed at. So, I was talking to a lady one day about being a massage therapist, and I thought ‘why not?’ Then voila. Here I am.” I smile at him.

“That’s it? You talked to a woman, thought ‘why not,’ and that was that?” He seems perplexed.

“I’m strange. I know, but after I looked into it more, it’s didn’t sound gruesome and it helps people. That’s something I’ve cared about; even through all my original choices, my goal was to help others. My dad and Mom are always helping people out and I wanted to be like that. What about you? Did you want to do anything else besides baseball?”

“I was born to play baseball.” He shrugs as if doesn’t matter.

“I born to eat all the chocolate chip cookies in the world, but it doesn’t mean I do. Didn’t you ever dream doing something else?” I shouldn’t push him, but I want to know at least one thing about him.

“No, I—” He stops again, shaking his head. “No, nothing other than baseball.”

“You’re very good at it.” I smile encouragingly and look at my watch. It’s late. “Well, I’ve enjoyed our evening. Thanks, Blakey, but I have to go to bed because I’m having a meeting with the doctor about some of the evaluations.” I nod at him, sign the receipt for my bill, and head off to the elevators. I can feel Blake behind me and I turn to him. “Um, are you following me now?”

“I’m making sure you make it to your room.”

“Okay.” I’m not sure why he needs to walk me to my room. We silently ride the elevator to my floor and walk quietly down the hall. “Well, this is me.” I take the card key from my back pocket. “Thanks for inviting yourself to my dinner,” I joke.

Blake smiles. A full smile. “You’re welcome.”

“Wait. Did I just see Blakey Foster smile? No way.” I gasp in fake shock seeing the real him for a second.

He laughs this time, and I smile. Maybe there had been a small breakthrough after all.

“It does happen occasionally if there’s a good reason.”

“You should do it more often. You’re kind of cute when you’re not being an ass.”

Before I can even register what is happening, Blake softly, but firmly, grabs my face and pushes me up against the door. His lips are on mine. I tense for a second, but relax as I feel his skin against mine. Since his hands are still on my face, I grip his biceps, squeezing them tightly.

I open my mouth wider, and he moans when our tongues touch. I’ve never thought of myself as being the world’s greatest kisser, but Blake sure holds that title. My knees grow weak as he continues working my mouth.

“I’m not that big of an ass when I’m around a pretty girl.”

Before I can catch my breath and respond, his grumpy look returns, and he storms off.

THE CALM THAT usually comes when playing hasn’t made its appearance today. It’s no match for my frayed nerves, which haven’t left me since I walked away from Sofia last night. All I can think about is how I shouldn’t have walked up to her table, shouldn’t have sat down and stayed, shouldn’t have walked her to her room, and most definitely shouldn’t have kissed her. There’s a reason I keep to myself and it’s be better for everyone if I remember that.

I clear my head with a quick shake as we take the field once again. As long as we can hold them back, we’ll win the game. I give the signals, make my catches, and am able to forget all about Sofia Gardner for a bit. The guys are hitting Felix’s pitches, though. We just need one more out to end the game. There’s a guy on second, itching to run all the way home. Felix winds up, throws, and the loud crack of the bat echoes in my mind as the guy takes off running.

Tanner misses the initial catch and throws it to Trent as the runner rounds on third. Trent throws it to me next. The reassuring thump sounds as it hits my glove. The player dives to slide in and I reach out to tag him.

“Safe!”

“Are you kidding me?” I shout. “He’s out! I touched him before he even laid a finger on the plate!”

The umpire glares at me. “He’s safe.”

“Like hell he is. That was a bad call!”

“Blake.” The stern voice of Coach causes me to slam my mouth shut. Last thing I need is to piss him or the umpire off.

Thanks to my apparent mistake, the opposing team lands the advantage and we end up losing. Hector tries to talk to me on the bus ride back to the hotel, but I ignore him. Once I’m in my hotel room, I turn on the TV, the first thing showing is a replay of that call, which clearly shows the ump was right.

My phone rings and I make another stupid mistake by answering it without checking the caller ID.

“You know, Blake, sometimes I wonder if you’re even my kid with how you play.”

I groan at the sound of my father’s voice. “What do you want? I don’t have time for this,” I snap.

“That’s your problem. You don’t have time to improve your performance because you’re obviously not committed enough. It’s because you’re a worthless piece of shit. You get it from your mother’s side. That’s the loser side, because you’re a loser.”

I clench my jaw. “Are you done? I wouldn’t want my worthlessness to infect you any longer. Although, you obviously don’t mind it if you’re still with Mom and she’s who I get it from.”

“Your shitty, worthlessness has affected me since the day you came into this world. I’m ashamed to call you my son; did you know that? You were destined to be a pitcher, a great pitcher like me. You fucked all that up, too. The only reason I’m with your mother now is because she’s a good cook and I don’t want my name associated with a divorce. I stick with it because I’m strong, unlike your lazy ass. Now, I need to go find a nice, hot piece of young ass, while you should hit the weight room and work on your
catcher’s
arm, dumb ass” He says catcher as if it disgusts him that I would play such a position, as if it’s beneath him.

The fury boils my blood as I explode, shouting at him, “Did it ever occur to you that I’m not a pitcher because I’m ashamed of
you
? I don’t want to be your son any more than you want me to be! And if you can hire a piece of ass, you can hire a damn cook and let Mom go. You can do that without getting a divorce, Jack. No one cares about your private life and no one will notice if Mom doesn’t live with you. It’s not like you make sure you’re seen in public together because heaven forbid the woman embarrasses you. Just let her go!” It’s what I want more than anything, for my mom to be safe from him.

“You’re obviously not a man, because a
real
man knows that his wife is his property, and you don’t let go of something that belongs to you.” That motherfucker. My mouth opens, but he keeps talking. “I will do whatever the hell I want to your mother because she’s mine. Just like you’re mine, and I will kick your ass for raising your voice to me, son. I think you still remember the paddle and the belt in my office, right? It’s still there and I’ll show it to you
again
when you come over, you ungrateful bastard.”

I laugh. He’s acting as if I’m still kid and he can hit me whenever he wants, as if I’m going to cower in the corner. “Do you think your threats to beat me scare me, Jack? I’m older, but I’m still younger than you are, and I think it will do
you
good to remember that I fight back now. You know what, this is pointless. You’re too weak of a person to realize you’re wrong, and I don’t care to waste my breath. I will be coming by to see Mom once I get home. If you’re planning to go a round, I wanted to give advance notice since you’re old and might need to be prepared to hit a man for a change.”

Rage pumps my blood twice as hard and fast. That rage reminds me just how much I’m like my father. No matter how much I want to deny it, or how much I try to be the complete opposite, I’m my father’s son. I change my clothes, slip on my tennis shoes, and grab the card key before going down the to hotel’s gym. I need to get the anger out before it takes up permanent residence, at least any more than it already has.

A punching bag catches my eyes, but I dismiss it for the treadmill. I need to run. Run off the steam, run away from my father’s voice, run away from myself, and run until I’m too exhausted to care.

“Wow, Blakey, you look pissed off at the world. Are you mad enough to shoot fire through your nose like a dragon?”

Of course, the last person I want to see is here. I don’t bother glancing at her. “Not in the mood, Sofia.”

She leans on the treadmill rail and her tone softens as she says, “Blake, you need to talk to someone. You really do look mad enough to kill someone. Please, I’m not here to judge you or anything. I’m trying to be a friend.”

“If I wanted a friend, I’d find Hector. Now, leave me alone.” I look mad enough to kill and she wants to step into the line of fire to talk me down? She’s lost her fucking mind if she wants to talk to me like this, or if she thinks that I want to talk to her.

“Okay, but here.” She sets a card on the dash. “That’s my cell. You can call it anytime and I’ll be there. No matter the time, I’ll listen and help you in any way that I can.” I make the mistake of glancing at her and see her give me a small smile. “Have a good night, Blake.” She turns and starts walking away.

Being the dumb ass that I am, I speak before she gets too far. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me, and you don’t need to be my friend. I’m a grumpy jerk in case you forgot.”

I watch through the mirror as she turns around and comes back over. “I haven’t forgotten, but you’re that way for a reason, and I want to help. Maybe when you get your head out of your ass and stop thinking you can do it all on your own, you’ll call that number.” She taps the card. “Unless you want to turn off the treadmill and talk now. I have the time.”

Irritated and wanting to set her straight, I slam my hand down on the off button, facing her once the machine stops completely. “You think I need help? Just because there’s a lot that pisses me off, it doesn’t mean I need help. Not all of us have a reason to smile all the damn time.” I fold my arms over my chest, knowing I look every bit of the pissed off that I feel.

“Maybe you don’t need help, Blakey, but you need to talk to someone. Look in the mirror.” She touches my arm to turn me back toward the mirrors that line the wall in front of the machines. My scowl might as well be a permanent expression. “That’s a guy who needs to stop bottling up his emotions inside. That’s a guy who need to talk.” I shake my head, facing her again. “For your information, I don’t smile all the time, I can be a bitch when I have to be, and you’re on the verge of bringing
her
out if you keep acting like a dick.”

“That’s the thing, Sofia; I’m not acting. It’s who I am, and trust me when I say that keeping my emotions inside is for the best.”

“May I try something? Seriously, for five minutes, let’s sit. If it doesn’t work, then I’ll walk away and the only time you have to see me is if you want me to rub something. No pun intended there.” She giggles at her joke, but I don’t laugh with her.

“If that’s what it takes for you to leave me alone, then fine.”

We’re the only ones in here and there are some chairs lining the wall, so we take a seat. I fold my arms over my chest again, lean back, and stretch my legs out in front of me, crossing them at the ankle. There’s no way I’ll be the first to speak. I watch her with narrowed eyes while I wait.

“Okay, Blakey, tell me your favorite color and stop glaring at me before I kick your ass.”

“Don’t have one,” I say.

“Alright, favorite movie. I’m thinking you’re a
Major League
buff.”

I shake my head. “I like the
Mission Impossible
movies.”

“Did you ever try to hang upside down from the ceiling like Tom Cruise did?”

“No, but that would’ve been cool.” My muscles slowly begin to relax.

“I’m more of a Jason Bourne/James Bond girl. The new James Bond, not the Roger Moore or Sean Connery James Bond. What is your favorite thing to eat? Don’t you dare say a girl’s name either.” She smirks at me and I tuck my chin down, focusing on my shoes, so she doesn’t see me trying not to smile.