Game Changer, page 5
I have to think positively. With the clout of the Kings behind her, Sasha will be unstoppable. She’ll make history and thrive under the pressure. Kyle will live and rejoin the team next year. I’ll confess to Sasha how I feel about her and Kyle will be okay with it. It’s as easy as lights, camera, action, only with the three of us cast in the starring roles.
We exit my Lexus as first baseman Scott Harper pulls in next to us, stereo thumping. Sasha raises an eyebrow at me, and I just roll my eyes. Scott is all about projecting a bad-boy image, his black Audi R8 gleaming under the LED lights. It’s so streamlined that it looks like it’s moving even when it’s not.
Scott gets out, undressing Sasha with his eyes as I make a move to step in front of her. I was counting on the majority of the Kings’ players being cool with Sasha’s plan. She is Kyle’s sister, after all. They wouldn’t do anything to disrespect a fellow teammate. But there are a few question marks, especially when it comes to womanizers like Scott and Drake. Even though Scott doesn’t round up call girls like Drake does, I wouldn’t exactly call him an advocate of women’s lib.
"Hey, man. How’s K-Rob doing?" Scott strides over to us, reluctantly shifting his gaze over to me.
Okay, maybe he’s not a complete dick. "He’s stable for now, but it’s gonna be a waiting game."
"That fucking blows," Scott sighs, shaking his head. "How’s Casey holding up?"
"She’s keeping him in line. You know it’s gonna drive him up a wall not being able to play. If he didn’t have her, I don’t know what he’d do."
"He’d probably run out onto the street in his hospital gown, his ass cheeks flapping in the breeze," Scott snickers as he sneaks a glance at Sasha when she exhales like he’s annoying the crap out of her.
Scott doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just how we interact. We tease each other mercilessly. It’s the only way we know how to express ourselves. Yeah, everyone’s concerned about Kyle, but we show it by making a joke out of everything.
"I didn’t mean to offend you, sweetheart." Scott smiles, pleased that he got a rise out of her. "But Kyle’s got a fine ass. I’ve seen it. You could go a lifetime and never see an ass like that."
"I’d rather not, thanks, considering he’s my brother," Sasha schools him, wiping the smirk off his face.
"You’re serious?" Scott backpedals. "Girl, why didn’t you speak up?"
"Because I wanted to see if you’d stick your foot in your mouth, and you didn’t let me down," she responds with a smirk. "After the day I’ve had, I needed a good laugh."
"Well then I’m happy to oblige. Nice to meet you…" Scott prompts, cautiously extending his hand.
"Sasha," she supplies, kind enough not to leave him hanging.
"Saaaa…shaaa," he responds, drawing out her name for effect. "I like it. It sounds sexy."
"Down, boy," she scolds him before he can dig himself into a hole deeper than the one he’s already in. "You might be seeing me around a lot, so don’t blow it."
"Why? Are you interning with the Kings for the summer?" Scott asks, coming closer to the truth than he realizes.
"You might say that," I hedge, not wanting to give too much away.
"Well, let me be the first to welcome you aboard our rowdy pirate ship." Scott shoves his keys into the pocket of his skintight jeans, grinning when her eyes linger a second too long below his belt.
He’s toying with her in front of me, seeing where things stand between us. I never bring girls to the ballpark. He thinks we must be together, but he’s not sure based on our body language. I don’t know how but he can always tell when two people have slept together, and it doesn’t help that I’m usually an open book when it comes to his perceptive gaze.
He’s still riding me about that girl I made out with in Vegas when we were all there for Kyle’s bachelor party. He knew the minute I joined them for breakfast the next morning that I didn’t go back to my hotel room alone but I didn’t seal the deal either. I was drunk and a whole lot horny after watching the burlesque show at the House of Blues. By the time we got back to Ghostbar at The Palms, where we were staying, it didn’t take much for me to leave with the first hot blonde who hit on me. What nobody else knows is that, after bringing her up to my room, I couldn’t go through with it. I ended up walking her back down to the lobby and giving her money for a cab. Nothing happened—even if I led the guys to believe that it did.
Scott was the only one who saw through my story, and he still gives me grief about it every chance he gets, saying things like, "Yeah, that girl sitting above the dugout is fine, but not as hot as that blonde you were locking lips with in Vegas." If he ever brings it up in front of Sasha, I’ll kill him. She doesn’t need to know about it. It was before we reconnected in Jamaica. It meant nothing to me. But I never know what’s going to come out of Scott’s mouth.
He hits the elevator button, and the door slides open. "Ladies first," Scott says, extending his arm for Sasha to enter before us.
"You’ve got to be kidding me," Sasha groans, issuing an exaggerated sigh. "That’s the best line you’ve got? And here I thought you had some serious game."
Scott snickers, shaking his head at her feistiness. He holds back a moment, whispering so that only I can hear him, "You want to hit that so bad. So why aren’t you?"
I don’t like him talking about Sasha like that, but it’s just the way he is—crude, vulgar, and possessing a limited vocabulary. I don’t have time to explain what’s going on, but one word will shut him up.
"Kyle," I mutter under my breath, and he grimaces, slapping me heartily on the back.
"Sucks for you," he says as the door closes behind us.
"What does?" Sasha asks sharply, eying us suspiciously.
"Nuthin’," I mumble, clearing my throat as Scott begins to chuckle softly.
"Boys…" Sasha mutters, keeping her eyes fixed to the lights above the door until we reach our floor.
When we get off, our teammates who are milling around stare a hole through Sasha, automatically assuming she’s with Scott and not with me. Yeah, I’ve gone through a major dry spell lately, but do they have to rub it in? I haven’t turned into that much of a charity case, have I?
"Fellas, fellas, put those eyes back in their sockets," Scott scolds them good-naturedly. "This is K-Rob’s little sis, Sasha. Let’s make her feel welcome, all right?"
We’re swarmed by nearly the entire team as they converge around her. She gamely answers their questions about Kyle the best she can, seeing how hungry they are for news about their fallen comrade. But when I see Chase enter the room, looking to see what all the commotion is about, I pull him aside, hoping to get a word with him.
"Whit, do you think you can get Sasha in to see Terry today? It’s kind of important." I don’t pull any punches with the man who’s become my mentor. Drake always gives me shit for being Chase’s boy, but I couldn’t care less. Chase could have made my life difficult when I replaced him last year, but he didn’t and that says a lot about him.
"Let me see what I can do," Chase responds, reaching into his back pocket to retrieve his phone, no questions asked.
He sends Terry a text, staring at the screen like he’s expects a swift response. Only Chase Whitfield has this much clout. His name bankrolled the organization for years. If anyone’s going to get Terry to act, it’s him.
His phone pings seconds later. "He’ll see her now," Chase relays to me. "But he only has fifteen minutes. That’s all he can give her."
It’s clear that Terry is just doing this as a courtesy to his second baseman and as a means of assuaging his impending guilt. He intends to shove Kyle out the door, so he might as well speak to his sister before he does it—just so there are no hard feelings afterward. He doesn’t want it to get out that he turned her away on the eve of replacing him. Terry’s signature brand of hypocrisy at its finest.
"Are you going to tell me what this is all about, kid?" Chase looks me in the eye, encouraging me to be straight with him.
"I wish I could, but it’s her idea, not mine," I respond, cringing at the disappointment written on his face.
Chase thinks I don’t trust him, but it’s not that. It’s just not my secret to tell. Either way, he’ll hear about it soon enough.
"But if you let me know what’s going on, maybe I can help," Chase insists, advising me to come clean with him.
"You’ve already helped by setting this up," I reassure him. "She’s just looking out for her brother. That’s all."
"How’s he doing?" Chase asks, knowing how tough this is on me as well.
"He’s being the same SOB he always is, just a little more fragile than he’d like to be," I admit honestly. "It doesn’t look good, man. If he doesn’t get a new heart…"
"Is that what his sister’s asking Terry for? Brooks, he’s done some crazy deals in the past, but he’s not the Wizard of Oz." Chase grips my shoulder, urging me to see reason. "I don’t want the two of you getting your hopes up that he’ll be able to pull off some kind of miracle."
"We’re not," I assert, wishing I could tell him what we’re really up to, but I don’t think he’d go along with it.
Chase is a pretty open-minded guy, but even he has his limits. He’s definitely overprotective when it comes to the women in his life. I can’t see him feeling good about Sasha joining the team. I’m sure he wouldn’t approve. He’d think that Terry was throwing her to the wolves, and that’s something he just wouldn’t tolerate.
"Well, let me at least walk you over as a show of support." Chase gives me a small smile. "She’s a spitfire, that one. I can tell by the way she’s commanding the room. Look at them all, hanging on her every word. I wish they’d listen to me like that. Maybe then we wouldn’t get picked off first base."
"Yeah, she’s something else," I admit, allowing my eyes to stray to her.
I stare at her a moment too long, and Chase nudges me. "You’ve got it bad."
"And there’s nuthin’ I can do about it," I grumble as we make our way over.
"I wouldn’t say that. You just have to be smart about it." Chase winks at me before tapping Sasha on the shoulder.
She turns around and her eyes go wide. "Chase…Chase Whitfield," she stutters.
"Miss Roberts," he responds, a grin tugging at his lips.
Even Sasha isn’t immune to his legendary charm. I should be irritated, but I know how much Sasha admires him. She told me all about how he was her favorite player—and how I was the only one she could ever accept replacing him at short.
"Terry Bloom is ready to see you. But more importantly, are you ready to see him?" Chase asks, flirting with her a little.
"I think so," Sasha says, swallowing hard.
"Well, allow me to escort you to his office." Chase offers her his arm and she takes it willingly as I follow behind them.
Chase is making her laugh, and that’s good. He knows she’s nervous, and he’s doing his best to put her at ease. He’s gone up against Terry on several occasions. Sometimes, he comes out on top—sometimes not. It’s always a crapshoot with Terry. His motivations are multilayered. It’s usually hard to know what he’s really after.
I just hope she’s not walking into a trap.
Chapter Six
Sasha
I have to admit it. Maybe I didn’t think this through.
I’m in front of the office door of the friggin’ general manager of the New York Kings with the most touted shortstop to ever don the uniform standing behind me. This can’t be real. But being in such close proximity to Chase Whitfield isn’t what’s keeping me from bailing. It’s the look in the eyes of the team’s current shortstop that’s making me believe I can do this.
Kyle would kill me if he knew where I was right now. Brooks isn’t too happy about it either, but he’s not stopping me. I don’t know what that means exactly, especially if I end up joining the team. He’s leery of the idea. But do his fears stem from having to spend more time with me than he’d like, or is he opposed to having a woman on the team in general?
I never pegged Brooks for a chauvinist. He comes from Oklahoma. He grew up riding horses and roping steers on his grandfather’s ranch. I’m not sure if he’s one of those throwback guys who feels that a woman’s place is in the home. Kyle mentioned once that his mom coddles the heck out of him to make up for his father, who’s apparently a real drill sergeant. Brooks’s manners are pretty old-fashioned—holding doors, pulling out chairs—but how far do his traditional values extend?
And from the way Chase is gazing at me expectantly, I don’t think Brooks let him in on our little secret. The greatest shortstop of the modern era is wondering why I’m hesitating. He went out of his way to set this up for me. Terry’s a busy man, and I shouldn’t be wasting his time. All I have to do is walk in and start talking, but I don’t think I can if Brooks doesn’t approve. He wants Kyle to stay on the team more than anything, but I know this isn’t the way he’d go about doing it. If his back wasn’t up against the wall, he’d find another way, but we’re running out of time. That’s the only reason he’s even considering letting me do this. We’re out of options. It’s my crazy idea or nothing.
I just don’t want to turn into someone Brooks can’t relate to. He already pulled away from me once. What if he does it again? This time, it’ll hurt so much worse if we have to see each other every day. They’ll be no distance separating me from the pain that his disapproval is bound to cause. I don’t think I can bear watching him date other women and moving on with his life now that I might actually be a part of it. I won’t be able to pretend that he’s thinking about me from afar when I’ll be able to see with my own two eyes that he’s not. Things are going to get real between us. What I’m about to do is either going to drive us closer together or further apart. Now’s the time I have to be brave and hope for the best because it’s not just about me. It’s about Kyle, too.
I just have to keep telling myself that, no matter what, I’m not going to change. I’ll still be the same Sasha I was when I woke up this morning. The same Sasha Brooks had fun with in Jamaica. I’m not going to let them turn me into something I’m not—if only to prove Brooks wrong.
"You can go in now, sweetie," Terry’s assistant, Rhonda, urges me gently from behind her desk, no doubt wondering what the holdup is. "He has a conference call in fifteen minutes, so I wouldn’t dillydally."
"Do you want me to go in with you?" Brooks asks, his deep voice vibrating through me.
He’s so close that I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.
"No." I shake my head adamantly, too afraid to turn around and meet his eyes again. "I have to do this alone. If Terry doesn’t respect me right off the bat, he never will. I can’t let him view me as Kyle’s little sister. He needs to know I mean business."
"What exactly are you two up to?" Chase inquires, lowering his voice so that only we can hear him.
"Nothing…yet," I answer truthfully as I try not to look like I’m struggling to pry open the door, not having expected it to be that heavy. There’s no time to explain. Brooks can fill Chase in if he wants. This might be a fool’s errand, but I intend to see it through.
"Good luck," Brooks whispers before the door swings shut behind me.
But I barely hear him as I slide directly into Terry’s line of vision. He’s nothing like I expected him to be. He’s not poised, waiting to attack. Instead, he’s gripping an enormous pastrami sandwich, going to town on it like he hasn’t eaten in days. I guess he really isn’t taking this too seriously if he’s squeezing me in during his lunch break, even though lunchtime ended hours ago. He must fit his meals in whenever he can, not keeping to a rigid schedule. He’s in the middle of making deals. Food is the least of his concerns, especially having Arnold Heimlich for a boss. The guy must work around the clock.
Terry drops his overloaded sandwich back onto the deli wrapper, hastily wiping his hands with a napkin. "Sasha, please come in," he beckons, waving me forward. "I spoke to Kyle earlier on the phone to see how he was doing, but he didn’t tell me you planned on stopping by. Have a seat and tell me what it is I can do for you."
This is it—the moment of truth. Do I just blurt it out and get it over with? I don’t know how these things work. I’ve heard horror stories from Kyle about what goes on in this room. How Terry chews players up and spits them out. He seems gracious and accommodating so far, but will he remain that way when he finds out what I’m up to? He seems puzzled as to why I’m here. Maybe I can use that to my advantage. Catch him off guard.
I cross my fingers and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
"I want you to make me your new second baseman." I stare at him calmly, not allowing a hint of a quiver to enter my voice.
He smiles at first, probably thinking that I’m making some kind of joke. When I don’t return his smile, he sits up in his chair, pushing his half-eaten sandwich aside. I can see the wheels turning in his head. I can only hope it means that he’s considering my offer.
"You do know what you’re asking, right?" Terry questions me, never breaking eye contact. "The scope, the magnitude, the scale would be unprecedented. The lengths we would have to go to, to make this happen would be exponential, but I have to admit I’m intrigued." He takes off his glasses and chews on the stem, feeling me out. "You’ve obviously thought a lot about this or you wouldn’t be here pitching me the idea. Tell me, how do you see this working?"
"I’m an exceptional bunter—" I begin, but he holds up his hand, cutting me off.
"I don’t care about your baseball skills. If I hire you, it’s not going to be because of your playing ability. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have what it takes to compete at this level. I don’t care how good of a softball player you were. It doesn’t matter. You’re out of your depth."
I know I need to defend myself, but I’m too angry. I might say something I’ll regret. He’s not even giving me a chance to prove myself. He doesn’t know what I’m capable of. I don’t even know what I’m capable of, but he doesn’t have to write me off from the get-go.
