AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You can say that again,” muttered the umpire.
The next several innings went off without another blip, though there was a great deal of chatter about what a dick move it was on Matt’s part to make such an unnecessary show of his home run. It wasn’t the way things were done. Home runs were a part of the business of doing baseball, and to stand around and glory in them was like rubbing a pitcher’s face in it. It was disrespectful.
When Alex came up to bat in the third, he used the mindset he was accustomed to having when he took his swings—hit like Alice was in the stands, cheering him on against all reason. He adjusted the wrists on his batting gloves, the sweet, potent smell of pine tar coming from the wood.
He closed his eyes before the pitch came, digging his toes into the dirt and clearing his mind. When he was focused, the bat felt light and the pitcher appeared to be no more than ten feet away, not sixty. The pitch came, and Alex swung hard. It wasn’t a perfect hit, but it found a gap, and Alex ran like hell—he didn’t waste any time watching the damned thing.
He got to third base standing, and braced his hands on his knees to catch his breath. It wasn’t until he’d handed his batting gloves off to the third base coach that he noticed Matt lingering behind the base.
“Well, look who made it to my office. A little shy of how far mine got, though.” He angled his chin to the bleachers. “Better luck next time.”
Alex gritted his teeth and edged off the plate, leading towards home. All he needed was a nice outfield groundball or even a sacrifice bunt to get him home. And home was vastly preferable to being on third base with Matt.
“Although it seems you’re used to coming up second to me, doesn’t it?”
Keep him out, Alex told himself. Don’t let him get in your head.
The next batter up waited out a ball.
“What’s the matter, Ross? You seem awfully quiet.”
“Fuck off, Matt.” Alex knew better than to engage with someone who was goading him intentionally. It was as likely to have a positive outcome as arguing with trolls on the Internet. But something about the way Matt was taunting him made it impossible to ignore.
“Oh, so you can hear me.”
Alex moved another foot off the plate. If this was a tactic to make him slip up for an easy out, Matt would be sorely disappointed because Alex never took his eye off the Mets pitcher. It was unusual for a pitcher to try tagging out a runner on third—the chances of missing and allowing the run to come home were too high—but Alex wasn’t taking any stupid chances. He still felt like he was on thin ice with the team, and an error that lost them a potential run wouldn’t be overlooked.
“Tell me,” Matt continued, ignoring Alex’s discomfort, or more likely feeding off it. “Does she still look good naked? She used to be a wildcat in bed. I remember she used to do this thing with her mouth—”
“I said fuck off.” Alex was crouched, prepared to run home at a moment’s notice. Hoping he’d get a good chance to get the hell away from Matt Hernandez and his flapping jaw. If things kept up as they were, Alex wouldn’t be able to help himself from throwing punches.
Alice might not be on speaking terms with him, but he’d be damned if he let a motherfucker like Matt talk about her behind her back. He’d hope any good man would do the same for one of his sisters. Or any woman for that matter.
“Hope you used protection, man, that’s all I’m saying. Otherwise you might get eighteen years of bullshit, like I did.”
Alex’s right eyelid twitched, and his hands balled into fists. His vision started to cloud over with a red hue, and he remembered the way it had felt to clobber the Twins batter who had lipped off to Alice and elbowed her. That guy was some random asshole. Alex was willing to bet punching Matt would feel ten times better.
As luck—good or bad depending on the perspective—had it, Chet Appleton bashed a solid hit to left field that hit the ground, giving Alex the opening he needed. He bolted for home and slid in a foot ahead of the throw.
Safe.
And so was Matt, at least for the time being.
Chapter Thirty
Carmello’s Diner wasn’t exactly a happening family venue on Friday nights, so Alice’s Spidey-sense started tingling when the group of five women, two of them with children in tow, showed up and asked for a table.
Varying in age from early twenties to mid-thirties, the women bore a passing resemblance to one another, in such a way even a casual observer would assume they were sisters. They also nattered and squabbled with each other in the familiar way only family members could.
Things went from peculiar to downright strange when the women asked the hostess to seat them in Alice’s section. Since Alice had never laid eyes on the women before, she had no idea why they’d want to be in her section. No immediate notions sprang to mind, which left her feeling uneasy.
“Ladies.” She smiled as she approached their table in the diner’s one big family-sized booth. “Can I start you out with anything to drink?” Holding her order pad at the ready, she let her gaze drift over them. Three of the five had dark, curly hair, while the remaining two were blonde. All five of them were pretty, but in an inoffensive, girl-next-door way that seemed designed by nature to put other women at ease.
“That’s her,” whispered the youngest-looking one, jabbing her neighbor with an elbow. “Oh she’s much prettier in person.”
Alice wasn’t sure if the whisper was meant to be so audible, but she blushed.
“Vi, hush. She’s not deaf, you know.” This sister—for Alice was now convinced they must be sisters—smiled brightly and placed her menu on the table. “We’ll have a round of waters, if you don’t mind. And two glasses of milk for the kids.”
