Authors: Nikki Duvall
J.D.
rolled through the front door of Halee’s apartment at half past five in the
morning, drunker than a skunk. He slammed the door behind him, grabbed a
blanket, and curled up on the white slipcovered sofa while Uncle Gus and Bobby
said their goodbyes.
Bobby
nudged J.D.’s foot. “See you back in Chitown. Win big.”
J.D.
moaned.
Uncle
Gus grimaced and turned a concerned look toward Halee. “You gonna be okay?”
“It’s
not the first time I’ve dealt with a drunk,” said Halee with a sigh. “At least
I like this one.”
Gus
shook his head. “I left you the Glock. It’s under the mattress in the guest
bedroom. No way Ty can find it.”
“Thanks,
Uncle Gus.”
“You
remember how to use it?’
“I
think so.” She walked the two men to the door.
Bobby
leaned over and picked up her morning paper, handing it back to her. “We expect
to see you during off season,” he said. “Rita’s gonna mope till you come back
to town.”
“Give
her a hug for me,” said Halee. “Tell her to come visit me.”
Bobby
headed for the elevator. Gus lagged behind. “You keep your eyes open for any
trouble,” he warned her. “You call down to the lobby if anything doesn’t look
right. There’s a whole posse of mean looking guys with shaved heads down there
just waiting for some action.”
Halee
leaned over and kissed Gus on the cheek. “I will.”
She
watched the two men disappear onto the elevator, then closed the door behind
her, latching and locking all available hardware. J.D. stirred.
She
walked to the kitchen and opened the Times, bracing herself for what she might
find there. Surely it was too soon for Draves to print his report…
But
there it was, in big bold letters. “Shaw Tricks Feds into Bad Deal.” And worse,
underneath the headline was a picture of J.D. surrounded by Federals players
and a gaggle of women straight from the late night T.V. ads for phone sex.
Halee could have looked the other way, except for the angle of the photograph
which perfectly captured J.D.’s hand caressing the toned derriere of a bleached
blonde beauty.
She
lifted her gaze from the paper to the pathetic hulk of a man with his drunken
face smashed deep into her perfect tapestry pillows and steeled herself for
battle.
“You
made the headlines, Honey,” she chirped cheerfully.
J.D.
grunted.
She
held the paper up so she could read out loud while observing his reaction.
“Says here you lied to the Federals about your shoulder so you could get a
major league contract. But that can’t be true, can it? J.D. Shaw never lies!”
J.D.
removed one of the pillows from his face. “Now ain’t a good time, Halee,” he
mumbled.
“Oh,
really?” Halee approached. “Was last night a good time, J.D.?” she shouted. “Or
should I say, was she a good time?” She slapped his head with the newspaper and
let it fall to the floor.
J.D.
picked up the paper and held it up to the light, trying to focus through bloodshot
eyes. “Jesus…”
“Oh,
he can’t help you now!” cried Halee. “Get off my sofa, J.D. Go crawl over to
that love nest of yours across the way. Maybe Cat will take you back. You
deserve each other.”
She
turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Ty was in his
playpen arranging all his stuffed animals in one corner and giving them each a
stiff talking to. “You tell ‘em, Ty,” said Halee. “Don’t let them give you any
grief.”
J.D.
knocked on the door.
“Go
away.”
“Halee,
hear me out.”
“I’ve
heard everything I need to hear.”
“Honey,
let me explain.”
“I’ve
heard all your lies, J.D.”
The
hallway was silent for a moment. Then she heard a deep sigh. “Think I’ll sleep
this one off,” he mumbled. His footsteps retreated down the hall and the
apartment door shut softly behind him.
Halee
sat on the edge of her bed and dropped her face into her hands. “Full circle,
Ty, that’s where Mommy has come. We’re gonna be just fine,” she said through
tear filled eyes. “We’ll be fine together.”
For
once in her life, Halee would have welcomed a workday. At least with no choice
but to engage in routine, she might be able to work through this frenetic
tension and put some kind of order back into her life. But it was the weekend.
That made her a free agent in more ways than one. So she did what any red
blooded American woman fresh from a breakup would do. She began to clean house.
By
noon the shine of the floors was enough to blind someone, the bathrooms were
devoid of any germs and the laundry was not only washed and folded but
perfectly pressed and ready for the coming week. She’d just pulled out a
dusting cloth when her doorbell rang. Her heart leapt into her throat. “J.D.,”
she said aloud on the way to the door, “I don’t want to see you…”
Dale,
J.D.’s attorney, stood in the hallway flanked by two extra-large plainclothes
cops looking borderline angry.
“You’re
not supposed to open the door to anybody,” one of the cops admonished.
“You
rang the bell.”
“That’s
what a criminal would do. We can’t be responsible for you if you don’t follow
the rules.”
“Mrs.
Pryor is paying you more than you’d make on regular duty, right?”
“Right.”
“Then
stop complaining.”
“I
need to see you about the adoption,” said Dale with a congratulatory smile.
Halee
waved him in. She smiled at the cops and shut the door.
Dale
walked over to the kitchen island and opened his briefcase. “She’s not going to
fight you.”
“Who?”
“Chantrell.
Her brother got whacked when he got off the plane in Chicago. She can’t afford
the kid without his drug money. You got nothing else to worry about.”
Halee
dropped into a soft chair and fought back the urge to cry.
“You
don’t look happy.”
“She
must be devastated.”
“These
people live with death as the norm,” said Dale. “Anybody who knew Demarcus knew
his life would be short.”
“I
mean about Ty.”
Dale
stared at her a moment. “You have to concentrate on what’s right for the kid,
Halee. Ask J.D. what he saw when he went looking for him. She didn’t care about
that kid.”
“A
mother always cares.”
“You’ve
led a sheltered life, my dear.” Dale grabbed a stack of papers from his
briefcase and brought them over. “I need you and J.D. to sign these forms. The
judge is granting you custody of Ty until a formal hearing can be scheduled.
You’ll have to return to Chicago when we get a court date.”
Halee
hesitated.
“What’s
wrong now?”
“J.D.’s
name is on these forms. He’s not the applicant, I am.”
“That’s
not what he told me. He said he wanted to adopt Ty with you as a couple.”
“When
did he tell you that?”
“The
night you lost the baby.” Dale’s expression softened. “I’m sorry about that, by
the way. My wife and I lost our first child, too. It’s tough.”
Halee
hugged a pillow and stared at the floor. “Thanks.”
“I’ve
known J.D. for a long time. I know who he is. The world sees a different J.D.
but I know the real man behind the bullshit. He’s been faithful to you since
the night at the literacy fundraiser- yeah, he told me all about it. You couldn’t
ask for a better person. He’d do anything for his friends. He supports Faye,
loves her like she’s the real deal. He’ll take care of you, stand by you no
matter what.”
“You
sound like a salesman.”
“I’ll
be honest with you, Halee. This roller coaster ride he’s taking with you is
affecting him. His shoulder is all but broke, Pryor’s all over his ass threatening
to take back his sign on bonus if he doesn’t win the Series for her. Now the
papers got wind of his injury and are calling it fraud. Pryor’s gonna amp up
her revenge scheme. I know her type. Without the bonus, he doesn’t have the
money to buy the ranch he grew up on. Did he tell you any of that?”
“No,”
said Halee softly. “No, he was too busy taking care of me.”
Dale
pushed the papers closer to Halee. “Here’s your chance to start all over.”
J.D.
stood in the private lounge at LaGuardia airport with the other Federals
players, waiting for the company jet to take them to St. Louis for game three
of the Series. His head felt like a Halloween pumpkin somebody had kicked down
the road. His shoulder screamed twenty four seven now, no matter how much booze
or how many pills he consumed. His chest was heavy with the realization that
his professional life was at full count and his love life had just taken strike
three. After Friday night’s loss to the Hawks, he’d relinquished his status as Federals
Golden Boy. Now he wasn’t even on the list for the chance to redeem himself.
Victoria
Pryor breezed through the waiting room in a red cashmere coat and alligator
boots and stopped to glare at J.D.
“What
are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in surgery.”
“I
joined the Federals to finish the season. That’s what I intend to do. Give me
another shot,” he said. “I can win this one.”
“You
had your chance,” said Victoria. “We lost. Which means you lost. Our
relationship is over.”
“The
coach benched me in the second inning. I would have made that throw to home
plate and you know it.”
Victoria
studied him a moment. “Your shoulder is kaput. You’re no good to me now.”
“I’m
still better than my replacement.”
Victoria
tapped her toe and scanned the room, taking her time to evaluate the situation.
“I’ll
cut you a deal,” said J.D.
“I’m
through making deals with you.”
“Just
hear me out.”
Victoria
sighed and crossed her arms. She refused to look at him.
J.D.
edged in closer and watched her defenses melt away. “We lose the Series, you
don’t owe me a dime. No sign-on bonus, no salary, no second place winnings.”
Victoria
flipped up her eyes with a look that offered more than a contract. J.D. braced
himself, wondering whether her counter offer would involve bedtime activity. “And
if we win?”
“We
revert to the first contract. Sign-on, salary, World Series bonus. Five years
no matter what. ”
Victoria
bit her lip.
“Plus
Marcus gets a raise.”
Victoria
smiled slightly. She turned toward him and leaned in closer, more intimately
than felt comfortable. “The papers are watching every move you make. I don’t go
for scandal and neither does Art. The fiancé debacle was bad enough. If I didn’t
have everything riding on you, I would have fired you over it. Now the Times is
accusing you of fraud.” She leaned back and stared him straight in the eye. “My
instincts tell me to cut you loose.”
J.D.
shrugged. “I pegged you as a gambler. Guess I was wrong.”
Victoria
turned away.
“I
see you don’t want a World Series title.”
Victoria
cringed visibly. “Guaranteed?” she asked with her back still toward him.
“There
are no guarantees in life, Mrs. Pryor.”
She
turned back to him and sized him up as if assessing her odds. “Don’t you ever,
ever humiliate this organization again,” she hissed, taking one step forward. “This
is your last chance. Now get your ass on that plane.”
“Thank
you, Ma’am.”
Doc
Smothers approached from behind, his brow furrowed. “You’re not planning on
playing that boy, are you, Victoria?”
“He
volunteered.”
“Well,
consider that offer rescinded. I can’t take a chance on your star player
injuring himself for life.”
“I’ve
got a Series to win,” said Victoria, pushing past him.
“You’ve
got a decade of Series to win. You play this card right, you’ll win every one
of them.”
“Talmey
can’t catch a ball and his batting average is hovering in the double digits.”
“Then
play Callahan.”
“I
need him at first.”
“Favier
is sober and remorseful. He’ll do his duty.” Smothers stepped closer. “The team
looks up to J.D. He’ll be the best coach you’ve got on the field tomorrow. If
you don’t want to bench him for the full Series, just give him another day of
rest. I’ll do what I can to get him ready for game four.”
Victoria
hesitated.
“It’s
the smartest thing you can do.”
“Alright,”
she said finally. “But if we lose tomorrow, there will be no more deals. He’ll
be back on the field. I don’t care how sore his arm is. I bought him to hit
balls, not cheerlead.”
***
“Where’s
Victoria?”
The
front receptionist looked up from her fashion magazine and sized up Halee’s bad
attitude. “In St. Louis. What are you doing here?”
“Somebody’s
got to keep this organization running, Carla,” Halee mumbled, storming toward
her office. She flipped on the light and tossed her briefcase onto the nearest
chair, sinking into the tall leather one behind her desk with an audible sigh.
After a solo limo drive into work she was feeling more than empty without J.D.
and full of regret for what she’d said. So why wasn’t she in St. Louis? And
when was this roller coaster ride with J.D. going to glide into the station?
She
opened her email and read through the first dozen, all from the Chicago
literacy office. The temporary director had walked out, the messages said,
after an argument with Carl over the air conditioning. Could Halee fly in for a
few days and settle the issue?
Halee
stared out over the New York skyline. J.D. wouldn’t be back for a week, enough
time for her to clean up the mess in Chicago. Victoria was too preoccupied with
the Series to even notice if she left New York. Family was just what she needed
right now. Decision made.
“Mrs.
Pryor called and left a message,” said Carla from her office doorway. “J.D.’s
been pulled from game three.”
Halee
frowned. “Now what?”
Carla
shrugged. “No explanation. No way we’ll win the Series on this news.”
“He’s
not the only player, Carla,” Halee scoffed. “The Federals won games long before
J.D. ever joined the team.”
“It
was different before J.D.,” said Carla. “Everybody kinda did their own thing,
you know? They grandstanded every chance they got. This team finally has a
leader. The other players look up to J.D. He’s got that kindness in him, you
know? I mean, he can play the bad ass, for sure, but he’s just someone you want
to follow. But you know that,” she said with a smile.
Halee
shook her head. “I used to know it. Now I’m not so sure. J.D.’s a little bit
unpredictable.”
“You
can’t believe what these players go through.” Carla glanced behind her and lowered
her voice. “Victoria Pryor is such a bitch. Did you read J.D.’s contract? How
could she do something like that to him?”
“What
do you mean?”
“His
second contract. The one Victoria made him sign when he went looking for you.”
Halee
frowned. “Not following.”
“Hold
on a minute.” Carla disappeared, then returned with a signed document. “Read
this.”
Halee
glanced over the first page stating the original date of hire, sign on bonus
and regular salary, then flipped to the next page. “Employee must play all post
season games,” she read aloud, “…must win Series or forfeits sign on bonus…”
She glanced up at Carla. “Are you kidding me?”
“So
I guess he loses his bonus by not playing today. And now she wants to change
his contract again.”
“He
needs that money to buy the ranch! That’s his dream.”
“That’s
another thing. Mrs. Pryor’s trying to buy the ranch out from under him. I
overheard her on the phone with a realtor in Oklahoma- Dan or Dean or something
like that.”
“What
in the world would she do with a dried up place in the middle of nowhere?”
“I
don’t know, buy some horses?”
“I’ve
been to the Double HL, Carla. It isn’t Victoria Pryor’s style.”
Carla
perched on the edge of Halee’s desk. “J.D. had the nerve to defy her. Now she
wants to break him. She knows just how to make him pay, too.”
“My
God, that woman will stop at nothing!”
Carla
flipped through the contract. “All the conditions are spelled out right here,
in black and white, Halee, and he signed it.”
“Who
said he couldn’t play today?”
Carla
shrugged. “Beats me. I can’t imagine Mrs. Pryor would make that decision. The
only thing she wants to do more than break J.D. is win the Series.”
“What
about his trainer? Could he bench him?”
“Maybe.”
“Can
you get me his phone number?”
Carla
smiled. “Sure.” In another minute, she handed Halee a piece of paper. “Clint Smothers.”
Carla
plopped into the chair across from Halee’s desk. Halee dialed and waited.
“Smothers.”
She could hear the stadium announcers in the background.
“Mr.
Smothers, this is Halee McCarthy. We met a while back in Chicago when J.D.
played for the Titans.” Halee met Carla’s eyes and nodded.
“Yes,
I remember. How are you, Halee?”
“Fine,
thank you. I need to speak with you about J.D.’s contract.”
The
crowd cheered. Smothers’ voice grew hard to hear. “Now’s not a good time,” he
said into the phone.
“It’s
critical we talk right away,” said Halee. “Did you make the decision to bench
J.D. today?”
“I
advised Mrs. Pryor to do that, yes.”
“She
wasn’t hard to convince, was she?”
“Surprisingly
not.”
“Mr.
Smothers, J.D.’s contract says he needs to play in every post season game or he
loses his sign on bonus.”
“That
can’t be…”
“It’s
in black and white, Sir. J.D. signed it. Victoria plans on playing J.D. in the
last three games of the Series, but he’ll still lose his sign on bonus if he
doesn’t play today.”
“He
needs the rest, Halee.”
“Buying
the ranch he grew up on is all he wants, Mr. Smothers,” said Halee. “If he
loses the bonus, he loses the ranch. You need to give him the choice.”
Halee
heard the crack of a bat and the roar of the crowd. “If I put him in, it won’t
be easy,” said Smothers. “His arm doesn’t have much left to give. It might
never recover.”
“How
about pinch running? Can he do that?”
“Maybe.
It’s still risky. Full contact could be just as bad as straining the joint. No
matter what, J.D.’s in for a difficult Series, Halee. He’s going to need you
beside him.”
“Thank
you, Doc,” said Halee with a grin. “I’m on my way.”
“Carla,”
said Halee, disconnecting, “I’m going to need two tickets to Chicago, first
class. And when you’re done with that, you and I are going to go through every
player’s file with a lawyer and make sure they’re getting a fair deal. Victoria
Pryor, be damned.”