Game Changer, page 17
"You know?" I finally glance up at him. When he nods, I quickly look down again. "I thought you’d want to castrate him when you found out."
"Brooks is a fine young man," he replies without hesitation. "Just be patient with him, Sasha. He’s not as sure of himself as you are."
My dad reaches across the table to pat my hand. He knows I’ve been waiting for Brooks to call, and I’m upset that he left me hanging. I should know from the ‘go get’em!’ pep talks of my childhood that my dad gives good advice. He only ever wants what’s best for me. I should listen to him.
"Thanks, Dad," I say, smiling up at him. "I’ll try."
"That’s my girl." He grins back at me with a wistful expression on his face.
***
Later, Brooks sent me a brief answer to my texts, saying that he’d had something he’d needed to take care of. When I questioned him further, he said that he was tired and that he’d see me the next day at the stadium.
And ever since then, it’s like he’s been purposely shutting me out of his life over something I had no control over. If he thinks that somehow I encouraged Jilly, he’s crazy. Brooks has to know that I would never play him like that. My heart is already taken. There’s only one man who can win me over, and it’s not the one who has to make a spectacle out of himself in order to do it.
I tried to be patient with Brooks like my dad said, but it wasn’t easy. Throughout the home stand, Brooks continued to ice me out as I proceeded to cry myself to sleep in my new, ritzy apartment in the Roosevelt Building. All the luxuries in the world can’t replace the gaping hole in my heart that seems to be widening with each passing day. I miss Brooks so much. A couple of times during a game, I’d catch him gazing at me longingly across the field, but whenever I’d meet his eyes, he’d turn away, pounding his glove, pretending like he hadn’t just been staring at me a second ago.
I can’t stand it. I need him to tell me what’s wrong. I won’t let him shut me out like this. He’s too important to me. I can’t do this without him. I can’t.
***
The next few days go by and I feel like I’ve lost control of my life.
Every minute of every hour is prescheduled. I can’t even go to the bathroom without telling someone first. I’m not used to having my freedom curtailed like this. It sort of makes me miss my aimless strolls around campus, when the only thing I had to worry about was showing up for class on time.
I can no longer come and go as I please, so Brooks and I haven’t been able to talk, really talk, since we got back to New York. In fact, the only place I get to see him is at the stadium, and since people are watching our every move, he acts all professional with me, keeping things strictly to the matter at hand. I can’t help but feel like he’s pulling away from me, that we’re somehow drifting apart, and it’s killing me that there’s nothing I can do about it.
Strangely enough, our natural rhythm on the field remains undisturbed. We’re steadily improving our level of play, and it just keeps on getting better and better. Everyone’s in awe of how we glide and twirl and pivot, making it all look so effortless.
But no one wants to talk about that. All anyone wants to talk about is what’s going on behind the scenes.
Except for The Queen of Diamonds.
In her interview with Brooks, he barely mentioned me.
Queen: "How did you prepare for such an emotional game, having Sasha out there on the field and not K-Rob?"
Brooks: "By talking to my mama. She knows how much Kyle and his family mean to me, how they treat me like one of their own. She called before the game to wish me luck, and it was good to hear her voice."
Queen: "Did she get to watch the game?"
Brooks: "I set up her computer over the winter so she can stream all of our games back home in Oklahoma. She never misses a pitch."
Queen: "How did you and K-Rob form such a tight bond?"
Brooks: "I remember being with Kyle when Matt collapsed. We were watching TV in the visitors’ clubhouse in Ottawa. We were still in Triple A then, killing time due to a rain delay. I saw how what happened to Matt changed Kyle, the impression it made on him."
Queen: "Do you wish Kyle had slowed down before suffering his own collapse on the field?"
Brooks: "No, because I’d probably do the same exact thing. We’re professional athletes. It’s what we know, what we love. What else would we be doing with our lives? This is it. This is where we’re meant to be—on a baseball diamond, gunning for a championship. There aren’t any half measures when it comes to performing at this level. It’s all or nuthin’. Winners leave it all out on the field, until there’s nuthin’ left."
Queen: "Do you think there’s such a thing as being too competitive?"
Brooks: "Kyle’s a guy who’s had my back since we were two eighteen-year-old kids, wet behind the ears and fresh off the draft. Yeah, he got chosen in the first round, and I got selected in the fourteenth, but stuff like that never mattered to him. He was descended from baseball royalty with two brothers in the bigs. Of course every team wanted to sign him, but all the attention only made him work harder. He knew the Kings expected a lot out of him, and he was gonna deliver—even if it killed him."
Queen: "So your answer is yes?"
Brooks: "Kyle knew what it was like to live in someone else’s shadow. He’s been doing it for years with everyone always comparing him to Matt or Nate. There’s no escaping it."
Queen: "What do you think his advice to Sasha would be?"
Brooks: "He’d tell her to keep her head down and soldier on and not to get too comfortable because he sure as heck plans on turning two with me soon."
Queen: "I hope you’re right."
Brooks: "Like you said, he’s a competitor. Never count out Kyle Roberts."
***
The rest of the coverage took a decidedly different slant.
The tabloids keep harping on how Jilly went all caveman the night he carried me off the field. The Post ran with the headline "Jill-bilation" with a picture of me in his arms filling the back page. The Daily News used the same image but captioned it, "Closer Encounters…" and then added a heart-shaped photo of Brooks’s sad-eyed face next to "…of the Third Kind," implying some kind of love triangle. The gossip hounds didn’t waste any time pitting Brooks against Jilly in a supposed battle for my affections.
Little do they know, neither one happens to be speaking to me at the moment. Brooks is staying as far away from me as he can, and Jilly doesn’t talk much to begin with.
Ah, Jilly. He’s like a big kid with tattoos and muscles. It’s not that he’s a bad guy or anything. He’s just been a pain in the butt, following me around not saying anything. The guys on the team think it’s hilarious. They’ve never seen their closer act like this before. He’s usually so aloof and withdrawn. No one thought that Jilly of all people would be affected by having a girl on the team. So all the guys keep bugging me, asking me what my secret is, how I was able to draw him out of his shell.
But that’s the thing. I have no idea. Jilly barely acknowledged my existence before his sudden outburst the other night. Tony had us continue our training sessions while we were down in Texas. On both occasions, Jilly seemed annoyed that he had to participate in such a crazy experiment, knowing that I’d never be able to connect with one of his fastballs. In fact, he seemed insulted that Tony thought I could hit his best stuff when most guys in the majors can’t even make contact. But thinking back, Jilly did tend to stare at me a lot in between pitches. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. A lot of people stare at me now. I’m sort of learning how to tune it out and stay focused on what I have to do.
Even after he swept me off my feet, it’s not like Jilly ever says anything to me. He’s just always around. It doesn’t help that he has a lot more free time than regular position players do. He’s usually wandering around the clubhouse, getting a massage, or sitting on the bench and watching the game until the fifth inning. The guys are well aware of his little crush on me, and whenever they see him headed my way, they always get up so he can sit beside me. It’s uncomfortable to say the least.
And I can tell that it’s really bothering Brooks. From what Scott told me, they had a little altercation in the clubhouse following my first game at the stadium. Brooks told Jilly to back off, and Jilly muttered something about it being none of his business before shoving Brooks on his way to hitting the showers. Drake apparently started ragging on Brooks too, but Brooks didn’t go after him. Instead, he stomped out, still in his uniform.
I had no clue all of this was going on when I kept texting Brooks, wanting him to grab a bite to eat with my dad, but he never responded. We weren’t in a celebratory mood anyway, not with everything going on with Kyle, but I was trying to make the most of it. After such an emotional game, I needed Brooks. I needed to see him smile, hear him laugh. I was so keyed up, and he’s the only one who keeps me grounded. I feel normal when he’s next to me, but he just up and disappeared.
***
Now that we’re in Tampa for the next three nights, we’re in desperate need of a sweep. The standings in the American League East are getting tight as the calendar inches closer to September. It’s crunch time. As the pressure mounts, I won’t let Brooks turn away from me. I know he wants to win these games just as much as I do, and it would help if we could at least talk to each other like normal human beings.
So I corner him in the hotel lobby as we wait for the traveling secretary to hand us our room keys. He sees me coming and starts to back away, but I grab his arm and pull him into a secluded nook next to the vending machines and a loudly humming ice dispenser. We got in late and it’s nearly four in the morning. There’s no one around. It’s just us, and I hate how nervous he is to be alone with me.
"This has got to stop," I state, sounding angrier than I intended.
"Sasha, we can’t be seen together. C’mon. Let go of my arm," he bristles, loosening my grip on him.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Despite my best intentions, my voice cracks when I feel his fingers touch mine. "Why won’t you speak to me?"
His head whips in my direction when he sees how emotional I’m getting. I know him. I know the last thing he’d ever want to do is upset me. Whatever’s making him act like this is not him. I can see his concern for me brimming in his eyes. He would never intentionally hurt me. It’s not in his nature. He’s my gentle giant, always ready to protect me.
He sighs, rubbing the back of his head and shutting his eyes. He looks so tired under the harsh florescent lights, like he’s worn out. I want to wrap my arms around him and take away whatever it is that’s bothering him. I’d lift any burden from his shoulders if I could—soothe him, comfort him, the way he’s done for me. Why? Because I love him.
Brooks leans back against the wall. I have to find out the reason behind his behavior. I won’t rest until I do. He eyes me with a hint of the sparkle that always makes my stomach flutter. He’s still in there somewhere. If only he’d let me reach him.
"There’s just a lot of stuff I’m dealing with," he utters, his voice husky, just above a whisper.
"What stuff?" I say a little too loudly, getting right in his face, and he steps forward, shushing me.
He breathes deeply, his shoulders rising and falling as he loses himself in my eyes. Before I know it, his hand is buried in my hair and he sighs with a groan. "God, you feel so good."
"Answer me, Sandy," I beg him as he begins massaging the back of my neck, making me melt. I grab a fistful of his shirt to steady myself. Just from having him touch me again, I feel that familiar ache in my belly. I thought I had lost him somehow, but it has to count for something that he’s here with me now.
"Jilly and I had a disagreement." Brooks lowers his hands, settling them on my waist.
"About me?" I mumble.
"Partly," he admits, absently allowing his hands to drift a little farther down. "But it’s what some of the other guys were saying…" Brooks silently shakes his head like he’s disgusted with himself.
"What? Tell me, Sandy. Whatever they said, I can take it." My head is spinning, knowing that it must be bad. His biceps strain against the sleeves of his suit as I hold on to him even tighter.
"I’d rather not repeat it." Brooks’s eyes flash with anger.
"It was Drake, wasn’t it?" I ask, wincing.
"Having you on the team… Well, all of this was bound to come to a head eventually. Jilly just took it a whole lot further than I thought any of them would. Seeing him react like that freaked me out. If there’s one constant in the Kings’ universe, it’s Jilly, and if he’s not immune to your charms, then I knew I had a major problem on my hands." Brooks sighs, drawing me closer against the hard planes of his body. "You have no clue how irresistible you are, do you?"
I lower my eyes, allowing my body to meld into his. "I didn’t want this to happen. It’s just because I’m the only girl on the team. Otherwise, no one would even notice me."
"As much as I adore your false modesty, that’s not it," Brooks says, tucking my head under his chin. "You have every dick standing at attention whenever you walk in a room."
"But I don’t do anything to—" I protest, pulling away from him, but he doesn’t let me finish.
His mouth is on mine, kissing me like he never has before. Any other thoughts flee my head as I surrender to him. God, I’ve missed him so much. His large hands span my backside, squeezing and gripping it as he lifts me off my feet, knocking my heels off in the process. He tugs at my pencil skirt, shifting it up, granting my legs the access they need. After he places me on top of the ice machine, he spreads them open and I curl myself around him.
I gasp at the chill that runs across my bare skin, causing him to draw his lips away and stare down at me. His eyelids close when he realizes what we’re doing. He takes a step back, gently yanking my skirt back down below my knees. He runs his hands through his hair, gazing at me all flushed and panting, my lips aching for his.
"This is why we can’t do this," he groans, adjusting his tie. "I have no self-control when I’m around you. I can see why Jilly did what he did. I don’t like it, but I understand it. It could happen with any one of those guys out there. It’s not anything you’re doing. I get that. It’s not your fault that you’re as alluring as hell, but I can’t go through the rest of the season thinkin’ that I have to beat my teammates off with a stick in order to keep them away from you."
I try to peer into his eyes, but he ducks his head, looking away from me. "Yeah, Jilly went a little off the wall, but—"
"You don’t know the half of it," he starts, spreading his hands wide on both sides of my body as he braces himself above me, hanging his head. "You’re not in the locker room. You haven’t heard the comments."
"What comments?" I tilt his chin up with my fingers, needing him to answer me while my heart plummets to my toes.
He gazes at me like he’d rather jump off a bridge than repeat the things I probably don’t want to hear. "Just stuff. Stupid shit guys say to one another."
"Then why is it bothering you so much?" I press him, clutching at his lapels.
"Because it’s stuff you shouldn’t have to hear," he says, stalling and clenching his jaw.
"It can’t be anything that I haven’t heard before," I mutter, hating how evasive he’s being with me. "Sandy, you hear what guys on opposing teams say to me all the time during a game. Why is this any different?"
"Because they’re your teammates. Guys who should have your back," Brooks grumbles, standing up straight. "It’s why I didn’t want you joining the team in the first place, because I knew this would happen."
"So we’re right back where we started?" I pull my hair away from my face and toss it angrily over my shoulder. "This is really getting old, Brooks."
He watches me for a moment, chewing on his lower lip, making up his mind. He pinches his brow, clearly distressed.
"Brooks, why don’t you just tell her already? I know you know," Drake bursts in, throwing us off guard.
Brooks rounds on him as Drake looks at me appraisingly, his eyes lingering where they shouldn’t. "Get the fuck out of here, Schultz. This doesn’t concern you." Brooks’s tone is lethal, and I feel the tiny hairs on the back of my arms stand up.
"Oh, I think it does," Drake says smugly. "Especially since I have a great deal of money involved."
"What’s he talking about, Brooks?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"You see, Sasha, I have a bet going on to see which one of us will sleep with you first," Drake responds ever so casually as he gouges out what’s left of my pride.
"You can’t be serious," I respond, feeling my stomach turn over as Drake saunters in closer, positioning himself next to Brooks.
"I’m dead serious," Drake says, his eyes blazing. "I try to make the effort and be careful about what I say in front of Brooks, since he’s Kyle’s friend and all, but I do so enjoy discussing every part of your anatomy…and what I’d do to you if I ever got you alone. And I’m not the only one. The others aren’t as vocal about it, but the ones who don’t say much? Well, they don’t exactly tell the guys with the more vivid imaginations to shut up either. Imagining you in all of these different scenarios? Let’s just say we get off on it."
"Drake, I’m warning you," Brooks seethes, the vein in his neck throbbing.
But Drake doesn’t listen. He keeps talking, clearly in love with the sound of his voice. "Sasha, did you ever stop and think that you being here makes us all feel emasculated? Who wants to play on a team with a second baseman who has a vagina? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re all driven by ego. Talking shit about you? Well, that’s the only means at our disposal to regain some of the self-respect you stole from us."
"But no one ever said anything to me," I whisper, clutching my forehead when I see Brooks lower his head.
"Why would we, Sasha? We’re not stupid. We know we’re stuck with you. You’re not going anywhere. You’re Terry and Arnold’s girl. We might have to play with you, but we don’t have to like it." Drake turns around, noticing his reflection in one of the machines. He smooths his hair, the Rolex on his wrist catching the light. "You know how competitive Jilly is. Why else do you think he’d be all over you, if not for my bet?"
