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“Oh God, stop. Stop it now,” I hissed to myself, recognizing well that I was spiraling fast into Crazy Town – population one drunk chick who was now staring thirstily at the bar, and not because she wanted a cocktail.
Ah-ah. You gave them your phone for a reason, so don’t, I scolded myself. Also, you are currently three tequilas deep, so anything you think you need to say tonight can actually wait till tomorrow when you’re just a mess, and not a drunk, particularly emotional mess.
Okay?
I knew my reasoning was sound but still, I could already feel myself breaking. I had so many questions, so little closure and such a desperate need to call Mike that I actually squished my body into a corner in hopes of keeping myself from heading for the bar.
Dear God, please, I groaned inwardly as I stared out the window overlooking Ninth Avenue.
Please, oh please. Either send me Aly or send me the world’s biggest distraction.
2
DREW
“Hold up. You’re not serious… are you?”
I squinted at Iain as we sat in the back of the SUV. He was holding out a pink leather pouch that belonged to his girlfriend, and I was waiting for him to tell me that he was kidding about wanting me to put on her makeup tonight. I hoped to God he was, but there was no telling for sure. From nine to six, Iain Thorn was strictly business, but six to nine were the grey hours when he slowly transitioned from being my no-nonsense agent to my some-nonsense friend.
And right now we were at 8:45, so I really wasn’t sure if he was shitting me or not.
“It’s just for your hand, asshole.” Iain flicked his stare from the screen of his phone to my undeniably fucked-up knuckles. “And I’m not asking you to wear glitter. All I want is for you to cover up the bruising. Your bosses are going to be at this party tonight, and no one needs to be reminded of the fact that you decided to break your pitching hand on Cody Bryce’s face last week.”
My jaw clenched at the mention of Tuesday’s game against L.A.
“One, I think the world would agree that he deserved it for bringing up Pattie, and two, I didn’t actually break anything. Won’t even miss a start.”
“It doesn’t matter. The team thought you injured yourself, and the false alarm was enough to revive the topic of what a high-risk investment you are. And since you don’t want to exacerbate those concerns, you’re going to unzip that bag and give your pitching hand the Sephora treatment tonight.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Unless Sephora’s a hot chick who wants to suck on my fingers, I’m gonna have to go ahead and pass.”
“Funny,” Iain remarked, looking somehow more annoyed with me than usual. “In that case, you can also go ahead and start house-hunting in Cleveland or Atlanta, because the Empires have been taking calls from other teams about you.”
My eyes shot up at him.
“What?” I had to pause for a second, my pulse having jumped so suddenly that I needed time to recover. “Are you fucking with me right now or…” I trailed off. “Iain. What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded, frowning deeply as I studied his blank expression. Fuck me, I knew this look. It was very much a business hours look, and it meant that he wasn’t joking about shit.
Adjusting the knot of his tie, Iain drew in a deep breath.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but from what I understand, the altercation on Tuesday also revived the topic of trading you.”
My heart slammed in my chest as I stared.
“I know I didn’t finish college, but I’m pretty sure the word revive implies that they’ve had this conversation before,” I said tightly. “And that’s not possible considering you would have told me about it if you knew as far back as last year. Am I not right?”
I reevaluated my entire relationship with Iain as I waited for him to answer.
“Last season.” He looked at me and gave another sigh. “They were thinking about trading you to Cleveland for Bautista, Gordon and Fields. The talks fell through because Cleveland took Bautista off the table.”
My pulse jumped into my throat.
Jesus Christ. Apparently, the only reason I didn’t wind up playing for Cleveland last year was because they wanted their rookie more than they wanted me. And I was grateful for that, obviously, but still. What a fucking blow to the nuts.
“So this has been an ongoing discussion for over a year,” I muttered, keeping an even face despite feeling like my world had just flipped on its head.
Ten years in the league and I’d never heard the trade word once. Never worried about any team so much as thinking it. It didn’t make sense in the same sentence as my name because I had been the country’s most coveted prospect since I was thirteen, and I’d dominated the league from the day I came in. Rookie of the Year. Cy Young Award winner. Two-time ALCS MVP and ERA leader for the past five seasons running. I was the best pitcher in baseball. Ego aside, I had actual stats to back me up on that, so it didn’t make sense that anyone would want to trade me.
Especially not the Empires.
