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Located fifteen miles outside of Dallas, Rose Hill boasts of a whopping ten thousand residents, most of whom were born and raised in the old-school town; including Carter. I moved to Rose Hill from Wisconsin when I was eight, shortly after my mother passed away from a drunk driving accident. She’d been the one drinking.
With grandparents who felt they were too old to take on raising their rambunctious grandson, I was shipped to Texas to live with my father. Before moving, I only saw him once, maybe twice, a year. He wasn’t exactly flush with money. He still isn’t. He lives in the same run-down trailer that he’s been in since he was twenty-two years old after he was dishonorably discharged from the army for receiving three DWI charges within a year. It’s the same trailer my mom left him in when I was three months old. And it’s the same trailer where I was forced to learn how to avoid the wrath of his drunken temper.
The Jones family is the only reason I didn’t spiral into a pit of rage and depression as a kid. When Mr. Jones invited me to join his son’s little league baseball team, I didn’t know the sport would give me the escape I desperately needed, and I had no idea I’d find a lifelong friend in Carter. The town’s boy-next-door and the kid from the wrong side of the tracks were an unlikely pairing, but we became as thick as thieves. There wasn’t anything Carter and I wouldn’t do for each other. He was like a brother to me. Still is.
To this day, we both make the effort to travel to see one another throughout the year when our busy schedules allow it. We’ve been doing so since college. But we never meet up in Texas. Carter knows enough about my past to never ask why.
The sleek SUV pulls up to the curb of the newly constructed high-rise where I will be living for at least one year. The bottom floor hosts a restaurant, an expensive leather goods store, and a sports bar while the rest of the building is filled with luxury apartments. Penthouses are located on the top floors.
I’ll be in one of the penthouses, not because I care about luxury, but because I need the privacy provided by living in a restricted area of the building. After my second season in Minnesota, I learned it wasn’t a good idea to be so accessible to the public. Some fans will do anything to get an autograph, including camping outside of your apartment door, waiting for you to return at all hours of the day.
The driver parks and gets out to open my door. I thank him and hand him a tip before grabbing my lone bag. The rest of my stuff will be shipped within the week.
The shiny silver building reflects my image back at me, and I frown when I see my rumbled shirt and slouched shoulders. I look likehim.
Don’t even go there, Corey. You’re nothing like him.
The doorman greets me by name when I enter the building though we’ve never met before. He introduces himself as Nathan, then guides me to the front desk where I receive an envelope with my keys along with an enticing smile from the beautiful young woman standing there.
Under different circumstances, I might flirt back. Being an athlete, I never have to work too hard to pick up women. I often don’t have to do anything. Some women are cleat chasers, going out of their way to find out where baseball players hang out so they can cross paths with us. They hope they can flirt their way into our beds and, maybe, our lives.
I’m not going to lie, I’ve had my share of fun, but not so much this past year. And definitely not since the trade.
I thank the desk attendant with a polite nod before heading to the elevator. Twenty floors and one key swipe later, I’m at the top-level penthouse. I drop my bag by the entrance and pocket the envelope with the keys before stepping forward to check out my new place.
Polished black floors with sleek white counters and expensive appliances dominate the kitchen. The island is flanked by six tall, silver chairs with velvet cushions on one side. An ornate light fixture with off-white pendants hangs overhead.
Moving on to the living room, I take in the modern furniture. The couch and matching armchairs look uncomfortable with their sharp edges and firm cushions. The far wall is a floor-to-ceiling window, revealing a balcony that extends the length of the five thousand square foot penthouse, giving a view of the developing Midtown skyline.
None of it is my style.
Not at all.
I forgo checking out the rest of the apartment. It can wait. Right now, I need to unwind, but I don’t want to be alone and risk spiraling over the fact that I now live in a state I neverwanted to live. And I’m contractually bound to play ball for a team that barely made the playoffs last season.
I summon the elevator to take me back to the ground floor. A cold beer at a loud bar sounds perfect. But only one.
I only ever let myself have one.
3
COREY
“I’ll be damned,it really is you,” a vaguely familiar voice shouts to be heard over the sports bar’s music. I sit at the bar top, absentmindedly staring at the television in the corner playing the week’s top ten sport’s highlights.
I look over my shoulder and do a double-take. “Kendrick?” I rise from the uncomfortable bar stool and catch the man’s hand in a clasp. “What are you doing in Dallas?”
“I work here.” My former teammate laughs, shaking my hand with a wide smile. “And according to the news, so do you.”
“I mean, why aren’t you back in Kansas now that the season is over?” Kendrick and I played college ball together. He’s from the midwestern state, and he often dragged me back to his parents’ place during school holidays and breaks. He’d never asked why I didn’t go back to Texas during those times. It’s one of the reasons I consider him a friend. Though, we haven’t spoken in years.
Kendrick drops my hand and slides onto the stool next to mine. I follow his lead and reclaim my seat.
“I’ll be heading back for Christmas,” he tells me. “Anna wanted to wait until Kayla had her first round of immunizations before we traveled with her.”
“Oh, shit.” A pale pink birth announcement flashes in my head. “I’m an asshole. I meant to send a gift. Congratulations, man.”
“Thanks.” He flashes a proud smile. “And don’t worry about it. You were a little busy, what with taking your team to the playoffs and then the World Series. You played a hell of a season, man.”
