Too Hot to Handle: A Boys of Summer Novel (22 page)

“You did not hear?” When Jake shook his head, she continued. “The boy is in the hospital.”

“What? What happened?” Jake asked, his heart in his throat.

“The boy got hurt. They came for him a couple of hours ago. His mother is still there, with him.”

“Kennedy, right?”

She nodded as Jake got back into the car and sped off.

Kennedy Hospital was located in the next town. He would be there in ten minutes.

He got to the emergency entrance in even less time. After parking in the front lot, he sprinted toward the ER, and paused at the information desk.

“I’m here to see Joaquin Menendez,” Jake said.

The beleaguered woman behind the desk looked tired and frazzled. “He’s just been assigned a room,” she said, studying a monitor before her. “But you can’t go in there. His condition is still serious. Family members only.”

“I am family. His brother,” Jake said, not at all surprised when the woman shot him a suspicious look, taking in his blond hair, blue eyes, and fair complexion that was now sunburned.

“You have ID to prove that?” The clerk, who wore a name tag that said Rosa, looked like a woman who had heard it all before and wasn’t about to fall for a line.

Instead, Jake gave her an understanding smile. “I know you have rules. But I drove twenty miles to get here, and believe me, I only want to help. If you aren’t sure, ask his mother.”

Something in his eyes or manner seemed to convince her, for she glanced around as if to make certain she wasn’t overheard, and then slid him a pass.

“Room 111. His mother is sitting right outside. But get your butt back out here in fifteen minutes or I’ll come looking for you.”

“Thanks.” Jake grinned, and her eyes narrowed.

“Say, aren’t you one of those ballplayers? From that team that beats everybody up?”

Jake winced. “Not anymore. I am a ballplayer, but the Sonics have turned over a new leaf. You wait and see.”

The hospital room was like a thousand others: sterile, cold, and unfriendly. Jake saw Joaquin’s mother seated outside, holding hands with a plump little woman who looked a lot like her. He remembered Joaquin mentioning an aunt; this had to be her.

“Jake, I’m so glad you came. That will make Joaquin so happy,” Juanita said.

“How is he?”

“He’s sleeping now. They gave him some medicine to help with the pain. He has some broken ribs, bleeding, and his face does not look good, but they said it will heal.” She began crying even as she spoke the words.

Jake swore under his breath. “How the hell did this happen? I thought he’d be safer here than in the city.”

The boy’s mother seemed reluctant to answer, but the other woman filled him in. “He was coming back from school,” she said softly. “Joaquin was wearing your jersey. Number 11.”

“What?” Jake stared at the woman in horror. “You mean they did this to him for the jersey?”

It was Juanita who answered. “I am sorry to say this. I know you helped my boy so much. I think he enjoys showing the other boys the shirt, that he knew a real ballplayer. That you had given him this gift. They followed him home.”

He didn’t think he could feel any sicker than he already did, but it happened. Unable to hear another word, Jake strode into the hospital room, and then inhaled sharply when he saw Joaquin in the bed.

The boy was barely recognizable. His eyes were bruised, his nose appeared broken, and his lip was cut. Fortunately, he was sedated, and there were tubes in his nostrils and an IV taped to his hand. He was wearing a standard blue printed hospital gown beneath the starched sheets, and he looked even younger than his ten years.

And there, neatly folded on the chair beside his bed, was a bloody number 11 Sonics jersey.

A nurse came into the room and confronted Jake. “I’m sorry, but only family is permitted at this time—”

“I know,” Jake said, not intending to get anyone in trouble. “I’ll get out of here. I just needed to see how he was doing.”

The nurse gazed at him in recognition, and then glanced at the battered jersey. She seemed to put two and two together immediately.

“I’ll let you stay a few more minutes. He will be okay; we got the test results back, and there is no internal bleeding. He just needs to rest up now, and let his body do the work. We’ll probably release him in a day or two, once we are sure he is stable.”

“Thank God,” Jake said, his voice tight in his throat. “I don’t think his mother could have handled it if…”

“I know. In all, he was lucky.” She passed a digital thermometer across the boy’s head, rechecked his vitals, and made a few notes. “Don’t worry. It looks worse than it is.”

“Thanks.” He smoothed his hand over Joaquin’s hair and fought the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Pain. Grief. And uncontrollable anger toward the kids who did this to him.

He left a few moments later, pausing to console Juanita before striding out the ER entrance to his car. Inside, he took a couple of deep breaths before starting the ignition. There was one thing he couldn’t get past.

This poor kid who was trying to make something of himself and help his mother had the crap beaten out of him.

Because of his jersey.

He stopped by the police station on his way home. Since he’d gone to school in the area, he knew a couple of the officers in town, and was happy to recognize Eddie Miller when he walked through the door.

“Hey, look who it is! The Trenton hotshot!” Eddie rose and greeted him with a handshake and a slap on the back. The dispatcher looked at him with interest, as did a female officer who was busy at the computer.

“Good to see you, Eddie,” Jake said. “Wish I were here for something social, but I wanted to check in with you about this kid who got beat up yesterday. Joaquin Menendez?”

He waited for a sign of recognition, and Eddie frowned, reaching for a folder on his desk. “I have a report on that one,” he said, grimacing as he reviewed the notes. “Unfortuna
tely, this happens way too often. I’ve seen them take a kid down over a cell phone. This time…” His eyes met Jake’s and immediately understood.

“You know it’s not your fault. If it wasn’t this, it would’ve been something else.”

“It’s personal to me,” Jake said, his jaw tight.

“I know. I feel like that about all of them. And he is a good kid. His teachers spoke highly about him. We know the boys who did this. For a misdemeanor, they’ll get a few fines, probation, and a few lectures. But nothing changes.”

“There has to be something I can do,” Jake said.

The officer shrugged. “You want my advice?” When Jake nodded, he continued. “Get him out of here.”

“What?” Jake stared at him, incredulous. “Uproot the family again? You don’t understand. It took all of his mother’s resources to get him out of the city and back here.”
Where we thought he’d be safe
.

Eddie studied him carefully. “I didn’t say the family. I said the kid. His mother will be fine; it’s Joaquin that’s the target.” His former high school classmate stared out the window, his frustration evident. “The town talked about buying those buildings, tearing them down. But it didn’t come to anything, and frankly I worry about where those people will go. Most of them are here illegally. The more prosperous towns don’t want low-cost housing, and yet that’s what’s needed. A lot of the people back there are like this kid’s mother. Hardworking. Trying to take care of their own. But there is a small contingent that don’t care about anything. They’re on drugs, booze, out of work, and prey on the people around them. They know now that Joaquin has resources.”

Jake was at a loss. He realized the issues of immigration and poverty were much deeper and required more than a simple fix. He didn’t know what the answer was, and realized his buddy didn’t either.

“Can you keep an eye on them? Let me think about this.”

Eddie nodded. “Sure. Hey, it’s good to see you again. Do you think you losers are going all the way this year? I’ve got a hundred bucks to lay on it.”

“I’m done with betting,” Jake said. “But if I were still a gambling man? I’d put my money on the Sonics.”

Jake’s mind wasn’t on baseball the following day, and it showed. They lost to the Mets in a shutout.

“We have to play better, we have to focus,” Pete said. “You all know we can’t afford to lose these division games now. Atlanta is in the lead, but not by much. We can still catch them, but not if we continue on like this. I want every man to believe he is the difference, that a win rests with him. Don’t look across the field to someone else. You’ve got to have it here.” He gestured to his heart.

The Sonics nodded, but more than one player glanced at Jake. Although he’d played hard, he couldn’t seem to see the ball. He chased pitches that he should have let go and misjudged strikes.

And it seemed to throw everyone off. Without that spark in the beginning to ignite the team, every sequential batter appeared to struggle in the same way.

Jake walked away slowly, his frustration gnawing a hole in his belly. Although he knew this happened to other players on a regular basis, and had happened to himself in the past, he hated every second of it, every at-bat he walked away from scoreless.

He knew it was all part of the game, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

The New York scout made a few notes, sent a couple of emails, and then approached Pete. The head coach appeared busy, talking with the batting coach, exchanging ideas and strategies. He looked annoyed when the scout deliberately waited for him, although he was polite as always.

“What’s up, Dave?” Pete had known the Yankees scout for several years, but he didn’t take kindly to his players being poached.

“Just checking things out.” The man indicated his cell phone, which he’d used to take a few pictures during the game. “Seems the bats are a little cold. Your shortstop in a slump?”

“Jake’s got a lot on his mind these days,” Pete said protectively. “I’m not worried about him. He’ll turn it around in time. He always does.”

“I know. That’s why my management is interested in him. He’s a hell of a player, offensively and defensively. And he’s a switch-hitter. What team wouldn’t be intrigued?”

He gave Pete a grin, unsurprised to see his scowl.

“Well, if you don’t mind my saying,” Pete continued in his folksy manner, “take your intrigue somewhere else. Jake’s a key player for this team. And I don’t reckon on losing him.”

“Well, that’s for him to decide. He’s a free agent next year, and he’d be crazy not to make an upward move. But you can always counter, right?”

The grin deepened as the scout walked away. Pete cursed, and then went back to his discussion with the coach. New York might be about sixty miles away.

But right now it was in his backyard.

Jake slammed the door of his locker, growing more irritated by the moment. He saw the scout approaching Pete and had little doubt that his poor performance had been duly recorded for his management.

Just one more thing to brighten his day. Not that he was eager to go anywhere else, but he was ambitious enough that he wanted a prestigious team like the Yankees to at least make an offer.

And now it seemed he’d blown his chance. As he sat down to tie his shoes, he saw Ryan approach.

“Hey. Tough game.”

Jake grunted. “They say you can’t win them all.”

“I know. Stop beating yourself up.”

Jake looked up in surprise as the team’s heavy hitter gave him an understanding look. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I heard about what happened with the kid. Joaquin.”

The shortstop wasn’t surprised. News had a way of getting around the ballpark quickly.

“So Sophia and I talked about it,” Ryan continued. “We’ll do it.”

Jake’s hands stilled on the laces and his head slowly lifted. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Ryan nodded. “I’ll talk to her more about it tonight, but there seems to be no question on her part. We’ve got three kids now. What’s one more?”

Jake had to swallow hard to fight back the tears that threatened to humiliate him. “Please make sure before I go to him. I don’t want to get him excited and then let him down. Taking on another child like Joaquin is a lot. He’s a great kid; no way any kind of a problem. It would mean everything to him to have a fair shot.”

And to me
, Jake thought.

“I know. That’s why I want to discuss it with her face-to-face, really talk it through. But we could offer him a lot. He’d be in a great school system, surrounded by kids that won’t think twice about going to college. The Speed Line passes right from Haddonfield to Lindenwold, so he would be able to take the train home whenever he wanted. And his mother could come anytime. Besides,” he gave Jake a big grin, “I hear he has a mean pitching arm, and our Little League could use a good lefty.”

Jake stood up and tried to thank him, but found he couldn’t speak. Ryan shook his head.

“Sophia and I will talk it through tonight, and I’ll call you in the morning. Deal?”

He shook Jake’s hand and walked out of the locker room.

“Okay Jake, shorten your swing. Nice and compact.” Matt Leon, the batting coach, stood outside the cage and watched as Jake assumed his stance.

Pete hung over the fence in his usual posture, watching intently. How could it have been so easy a month ago to simply step up, swing the bat, and send the ball soaring into left field? Now, driving in a hit seemed to elude him completely. He could make contact; he had enough foul balls to prove that. But either his swing had changed, there was something different in his stance, or he just wasn’t seeing the ball right.