Blake (Season One: The Ninth Inning #2) (6 page)

“I love vegetables.” I flick my gaze to my watch and add, “Four minutes left.”

“Blech to the vegetables. For me, it’s all about pizza. Oh, I adore carbs and grease, but it’s killer on my thighs.” She shakes her head. I glance at her thighs. She has great legs. “Why do you hate baseball?” she asks.

My eyes widen with surprise and the shock is clear in my voice. “Hate it? Why do you think I hate it? I’m a pro player; it wouldn’t make sense for me to play if I hate baseball.” Surely, I’m not that obvious.

“Just because it’s your career, it doesn’t mean you have to like it and I can see that you don’t. Maybe you the like the money or the girls or the fame it gives you, but
do you love it
?”

Without giving it any thought, I automatically answer, “Yes, of course I do. I wouldn’t play if I didn’t, not even for the money or the girls. Both of which I could get without baseball, by the way.”

She gives an all knowing smile. “I’m glad you said that.” The smile falls away before she continues. “What is eating you up then? Is it a girl, Hector, or your family? If it isn’t baseball, then tell me.”

The tension starts to tighten my muscles again. “You know, if it’s a girl who’s bugging me, you realize it would be you, right? Hector can be a pain in the ass, but he’s fine. It could be baseball, considering how the game went today.”

“That only leaves family, then? Is it bad or annoying?”

I stare at her for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer. Who does she think she is to ask me such personal questions? “Doesn’t matter because it’s no one’s business,” I finally snap.

“I’m taking that to mean it’s bad. You know,” she clears her throat, suddenly looking slightly nervous. “My dad kind of knows your dad.” At this, I sit up straight. “I talked to Dad last night, and he told me a few things. Since you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll just say this: if you or your mom need help, I can help.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it doesn’t matter. Time’s up.” I stand and leave, bewildered that she might know what went on behind the closed doors of my childhood home. And what still goes on today.

I TWIST THE stem of the empty wine glass in between my fingers. Between the kiss and our last talk, Blake is heavy on my mind.

“Baby girl?”

I lift my eyes up to my dad. “Huh? What?”

Harmony and Mom laugh. “We were talking to you.” Mom smiles.

“I’m sorry. What is it?”

“Sofia, what were you thinking about?” Mom asks, concerned.

People assume my parents have lavish items in their house, but they’re not like that at all. For instance, our kitchen table has been in our family for as far back as I can remember. It’s a small, pale blonde wood. It seats six, but Mom always keeps two chairs in the closet because there are only the four of us.

When I arrived home yesterday, I had Harmony stay up with me and we discussed everything that happened from the kiss to the point where he ran away from me
again
. Harmony didn’t have much advice to give me, but she told me to be there for him when he does come around.

“I was thinking about Blake,” I confess.

“Baby girl,” Dad shakes his head. “Jack Foster is not a nice man. I really don’t like you being with Blake.”

“I’m not with him, Dad. I’m trying to help him. He’s nothing like his dad. I truly believe that Blake wouldn’t hurt me,” I defend him.

“Okay,” he quickly answers back. “If you trust Blake, then I do too, but I don’t trust Jack Foster. Period.”

“Judy said she saw Blake’s mom, Caroline, the other day. She had a bruise on her cheek and her arm was in a sling,” Mom informs me. “I’m going to see if Judy can get her to come to lunch with us. I’d like to meet her and maybe befriend her. Judy says she keeps to herself and doesn’t have many friends because everyone knows of Jack’s temper.”

“Why is she staying with that—”

“Harmony,” Mom cuts her off. “We don’t know the situation, but we can help.”

“I’d kick him in the balls, that’s for sure,” Harmony says matter-of-factly.

Dad beams with pride, knowing she’s strong. “That’s my princess.”

“Dad, what do you know about Jack?” I ask.

“The same thing I told you when we talked. It’s all hearsay, but he has a hot temper, especially when he drinks. When he was in the league, he was in a lot of bar fights, but nothing came of it because he’s Jack Foster. Plus, tabloid TV didn’t exist then, and it was easier to keep quiet. I don’t know him personally. Our business paths have never crossed. I’ve seen him a bit around town and at events though.”

“I think he’s hurt Blake,” I blurt out. “I think Blake has seen a lot of trauma in his life. He’s holding it all in; and when he explodes, it’s going to be bad. I can feel it.”

“Sofia, you’re not a psychologist. You can’t fix everyone. I know you have a good heart, but honey, some people don’t want help,” Mom tells me softly.

“He needs me. I need to figure out an approach that will work with him.” I stand and grab the bottle of wine, pouring myself another glass.

“What if you talked about baseball?” Harmony suggests.

“Baseball?” I tilt my head at her.

“Yeah, baseball. Connect with him on a baseball level. You know about it, right?”

I roll my eyes at my sister. “Yes, I know about it. What I don’t understand is what you mean.”

“Talk to him about baseball. You need to gain his trust, and baseball is his passion. Just talk about baseball.”

I sit back down and lean back against my chair. “What do you think?” I ask Dad.

“As long as you’re safe and happy, I don’t care. However, if he hurts you or Jack does, I know places where to bury their bodies and no one will ever find them.” Dad stands and leaves the kitchen.

“He isn’t joking,” Mom adds, and I know she’s right. I love my dad, but you don’t cross him.

Harmony and I decide to stay at our parents’ house for the night. We’ve both had a few glasses of wine and we don’t want to drive. Mom has kept our rooms the same since we moved out. After my shower, I crawl into my bed and flip through my phone. I don’t want to read. I don’t want to check Facebook. I don’t want to do anything but think of Blake, his lips, and a way I can help him.

I scroll through my contacts until I see his name. I found his cell phone number in his personal file. I know it’s wrong to store it in my phone, but I did it in case he needed me.

Ugh, who am I kidding? I did it because I wanted to make sure his stubborn ass is okay. Harmony’s words come back to me.

Baseball.

Alright, if I send him a text, he could get me fired or he might answer me. Shit. I’m not going to give up on him. I’m going to be his friend.

Here it goes.

Me: It’s Sofia. Did you know that Joe DiMaggio was only married to Marilyn Monroe for 274 days?

Blake: No, I didn’t know that. How’d you get my number?

Okay, how am I going to answer this? I should do the right thing and tell the truth. Yeah, I’m not going to do that.

Me: The Baseball Fairy gave it to me. Did you know that the New York Yankees have won more World Series than any other team?

I’m going to keep him texting and I’m hoping this helps him.

Blake: Of course I knew that. I’m not gonna ask about the fairy. How do you know all this?

Me: Google and I like baseball. Did you know that Nolan Ryan has struck out more players than any other pitcher?

I’m running out of trivia that I do know and I might really have to resort Google.

Blake: Yes. Ever heard about the Doubleday myth?

Me: No, what’s that?

Oh, please let it be baseball related and that this conversation won’t turn into sexting.

Blake: A guy, Abner Graves, said his friend Abner Doubleday invented the game all by himself when he was a teenager. They wanted baseball to truly be America’s game, and that was their way of making it happen, even though it wasn’t true. Hence, Doubleday myth

Thank you, Baseball Gods.

Me: Wow, look who’s being Mr. Baseball now? I guess it’s true you do learn something new every day. Too bad I didn’t know something that you didn’t already know. =(

Blake: You did. The marriage with Marilyn, I didn’t know that.

I roll my eyes at the screen. He’s being nice because that’s worthless information.

Me: Well, it’s not really baseball trivia. I read it in People magazine one time. How are you doing tonight?

It’s time to see how this is going to go. He’s either going to answer or quit texting me.

Blake: Same as always. You?

It’s working. I think.

Me: I’m actually spending the night at my parents. Harmony and I drank a little bit more wine than usual at dinner. How’s the knee?

Keep him texting.

Blake: It’s been fine since the first time I went to see you. No trouble since.

Me: Tanner told me I have healing hands. LOL

Blake: I’ve heard. Told the team you had hands of a God or something, I think.

Me: He was moaning so loud on the table, people would have thought I was giving him something besides a massage. Plus, he doesn’t wear any underwear. SMH

Blake: I didn’t need to know that.

Me: Hey, sharing is caring LOL

I really do laugh out loud, picturing him scrunching his face.

Blake: Haha, I have to disagree with you on that one.

Me: Look at that. I got a HAHA from Blakey. My job here is done.

My cheeks are hurting thinking that I accomplished my goal.

Blake: Do you want a slice of pizza as your prize?

Me: Hell yes! I would like double cheese, thick crust, please. Don’t forget to sprinkle some parmesan cheese too.

Blake: Thanks, now I’m hungry

I laugh again.

Me: I’m in Germantown tonight or I’d invite myself to pizza with you.

Wait...damn it...I didn’t mean to say that. Why is there no delete button on texts? Damn you, iPhone.

Blake: Too bad you’re not inviting yourself. There’s a great little place two miles from my house.

Huh? Does he mean that? Good grief, Sofia stop acting like a horny teenager who’s talking to a boy for the first time. This dude’s already has had his tongue in your mouth.

Me: Sorry, Blakey, the wine is getting to my head, but hey one more thing: do you know why Jimmy Pearsall ran the bases backwards in 1963?

Blake: Because he hit his 100th home run.

I groan, hoping that maybe he’d get it wrong.

Me: Darn it, I thought I might have had you, Blakey! Good night!

Blake: Nice try though. Night, Sofia.

I sit my phone down and curl up with my pillow, thinking of Blake’s lips and hazel eyes.

I’M STILL NOT sure what to make of Sofia’s texts, but I’m relieved she stuck to safe topics. Although, keeping the conversation going doesn’t exactly keep her a safe distance away. And that thought is big and powerful as I stand on the porch of my parents’ home. I feel like a jerk for taking a few extra days before coming to see my mom. There’s no telling what kind of shape she might be in and instead of coming over sooner, I took my time.

I knock on the door, hoping she answers instead of Jack.

“If it isn’t my little boy.”

“Where’s Mom?”

“In the kitchen, making me food like a woman is supposed to do. Are you going to come in or should we stand here on the porch?”

I brush his shoulder as I walk past him and into the kitchen. Thankfully, he doesn’t follow me. “Hey, Mom. Need any help?”

She glances at me with a smile, and I force one back. There’s a fading bruise on her face. “No, I’ve got it. Did you have a good trip?”