Sliding Home (34 page)

“You haven't done jack to
stay.”

Boxer gagged, and Kason
passed him a paper cup of Gatorade. “Redeem yourself” were his final words.

He knew Boxer would pass
the rumor. Soon fear and adrenaline would drive their play.

“Play ball!” called the
umpire.

On defense, Brek Stryker
pitched a World Seriescaliber inning. Stryke had made a statement, and Kason
hoped the offense would respond in kind.

The lineup continued to
shift; the batting coach had yet to find a winning combination.

Psycho led off, landed a
double.

Alex Boxer's bunt rolled
like a golf putt straight to the pitcher. Easy out. His poor performance took
him to the locker room, where he puked his guts out.

Nerves sent Rod Brown and
Chas Ragan down on strikes.

“Fairies tattooed on each
hip,” Psycho shot at Kason as they left the dugout. “Maybe Tinker Bell.”

Kason flipped him off
inside his glove.

Brek Stryker ruled the
mound. Three up, three down, he again brought the Rogues to bat.

“Anyone here to play ball?”
Kason shouted along the bench. The rookies dipped their heads.

“Sign them up for
Ping-Pong,” Psycho spat.

Kyle Lake led off, and
Kason stood on deck. He'd spotted Dayne earlier, during the national anthem. He
cut her a glance again now.

She sat in a Rogues T-shirt
bearing his number. Her elbows rested on her knees and her hands were steepled,
as if in prayer. She sought a higher power to support their win.

Kason impressed her with a
triple, only to be stranded at third when the next two rookie batters failed to
bring him home.

“Tattoo,” Psycho taunted at
the dugout steps. “A monkey bending over so his asshole's at your navel.”

No fuckin' way. The image
was disturbing.

Despite Brek Stryker's
efforts, the Marlins scored twice in the third inning. Kason's gut tightened.

Psycho went ballistic in
the dugout. “I'm sick of losing.” He thumped the giant Igloo cooler so hard,
the lid tipped and orange Gatorade sprayed everywhere.

Kason waved good-bye to
Boxer as the rookie swung two bats in the on-deck circle. Boxer tripped over
his own feet on his walk to home plate.

Boxer went full count
before he squeezed a slider between second and short. Slow out of the box, he
was nearly tagged out.

Rod Brown dug in next.
Kason got whiplash from all his foul balls. Brown finally connected on a
fastball, arrowed it over the shortstop's head. The fans were so stunned, eyes
popped and jaws dropped.

The cheering soon started,
and the noise was deafening. Rally towels waved and foam fingers pointed to the
scoreboard. The fans were in it for the Rogues to win it.

The rumor had reached Chas
Ragan, who also proved his worth. He made it to first on a hopper down the
third-base line.

The fans were beside
themselves.

The bases were loaded with
rookies.

Rhaden Dunn got hit by a
pitch, which walked Alex Boxer across home plate. The crowd couldn't stop
screaming.

“Construction,” Kason said
to Psycho as he strapped on his shin guard. “You'll need a hard hat and
steel-toed boots.”

“I have a wheelbarrow.”

“We're not planting a
garden.”

Psycho looked him in the
eye. “I'll invest two months of labor if you put the game away.”

Kason wanted the win as
badly as Psycho. He waited.. .and waited for the right pitch, then airmailed it
to Maryland.

Grand slam.

The Rogues broke out of
their slump, rode the momentum. Singles became doubles. Doubles turned to
triples. Nine innings, and they beat the Marlins 8-2.

Kason looked toward Dayne
before he ducked into the tunnel. He caught her eye, winked. She waved. Lady
looked sunburned and wilted. She'd worked hard through the game, shouting,
stomping, supporting her team. At least she had Ben and Brenda to see her home.

Beer sprayed like champagne
in the locker room. The guys were celebrating a win that had been long in
coming. Not until Coach Dyson called for quiet did the players settle. Dyson
praised the team, pressed them to stay focused.

A weighty silence held
until Rod Brown swallowed hard and asked, “Who's to pack, coach?”

“Pack?” Dyson looked
puzzled. “We play at home again tomorrow.”

Brown cleared his throat. “Two
rookies were to be sent back to the minors tonight.”

“No one's going anywhere,”
the coach stated. “Who told you that?”

“Alex Boxer,” Brown said.

Dyson hit Boxer with a
look, and Boxer gave up his source. “Came from Kason.”

“I heard it from Psycho,”
Kason passed the buck.

“I heard voices.” Psycho
drew everyone's chuckle.

“False rumor,” Dyson told
the team.

The rookies pumped their
arms, relieved.

“Anyone hear anything else?”
Dyson wanted to clear the air.

“That Kason Rhodes was gay,”
said Chas Ragan.

Kason glared at Psycho. .

Psycho grinned.

The rookies headed to the
showers.

Dyson turned to the
cocaptains, shook his head. “You motivated them with a rumor?”

“A means to an end—we won.”
Kason had no regrets.

Dyson jabbed his thumb
toward the door. “Hallway—interviews. Play nice with the press.”

Kason and Psycho stood
shoulder to shoulder against the swarm of reporters.

“Talk about your grand
slam.” A reporter stuck a microphone in Kason's face.

“The guys got on base and I
brought them home. Total team effort. We played hard, made statements.”

“What lit a fire under the
rookies today?” a member of the press asked.

The fear of the minors.
“We finally came together, hit our stride,” stated
Kason.

“You're sitting sixth.” The
same reporter said.

“Give us a month; I'm
predicting second,” answered Psycho.

“Platinum,” a female
reporter shouted from the back. “When are you getting married, Rhodes?”

“Yeah, dude, give us a
date.” Psycho put Kason on the spot.

“The day I ask Psycho to be
my best man is the day I walk down the aisle.” Kason's sarcasm shut down the
press.

Everyone knew the men
barely tolerated being on the same team. They butted heads, were outright
combative.

A dozen more questions, and
the men ended the press conference. They backed through the locker room doors.

“Major dig on the best man.”
Psycho stripped for his shower.

“I've no intention of
getting married.”

“Does your renter feel the
same?”

“Dayne has no expectations.”

“Be sure, dude. Be very,
very sure.”

***

Dayne Sheridan caught Kason
Rhodes's interview in her camper shortly after the game. She'd passed on dinner
with the Dixons, needing to exhale from the strain of the day.

She'd turned on the TV,
curled up on the couch. Ruckus had cuddled on her lap, with Cimarron stretched
by her feet. The sports network had recounted the highlights of the game.

Kason's grand slam had made
the headlines, as well as talk of the team's comeback. Praise for the Rogues
was at an all-time high.

Kason's statement on
marriage bent Dayne low. He hadn't even paused to consider the reporter's
question. He'd curled his lip, looking cocky and uninterested, the image of a
single jock.

She liked Richmond, loved
working with Revelle. But the Platinum promotion had opened her eyes to how
little Kason felt for her. He'd acted in the ads, a man with a hot look and
sexy presence. In the end, she was no more than a reflection in his aviators.

Her heart caught a chill.
She'd been blown off again in public.

She pulled a plaid blanket
about her shoulders, snuggled deeper on the small sofa. It was six o'clock, but
she had no appetite. The Rogues would celebrate their win. Kason wouldn't find
his way home for several hours.

Dayne rested her head
against the back of the couch, closed her eyes and dreamed...

***

Somewhere between light
sleep and waking fantasy, she was being kissed. Deeply kissed awake. A warm
male mouth knew what she liked and gave it. The kiss went on and on, growing
hungrier and more demanding.

She moaned, aroused, as the
man drew her outside herself and into him. He tasted faintly of beer and a
breath mint. He kissed like Kason...

She sighed, left the
fantasy behind, and opened her eyes. She found him now seated beside her. He
wore a tan T-shirt and Wranglers. A cigar stuck out of his shirt pocket.

“We won, Dayne.” He
breathed against her mouth. “Today we beat the odds.”

Kason was a hell of a
ballplayer on his own, yet he'd instilled new energy into a team on a downhill
slide. She was proud of him.

He brushed back the strands
of hair that caught at the corner of her mouth, ran his thumb over her
cheekbone. “All it took was a rumor of the minors to get the rookies back on
track.”

She gave him a soft smile. “You
are my hero. I'm glad you were successful.”

He put the back of his hand
to his mouth, yawned. “I could use a good night's sleep. Do you mind if I take
Cim and head out?” He departed before she could reply.

The interview at the park
came to mind, and she hardened her heart. She wouldn't beg him to stay. Tonight
she'd go it alone.

***

“I don't understand all the
attention I'm getting,” Dayne said to Revelle as they ate lunch the next day at
a health-food store near the stadium.

Cucumber's combined
sage-and-wheat checkerboard tiles with lemon yellow leather booths. The owner
had a motto: “Feed the customer, but don't fatten him up.” Portions were
moderate, organic, and healthy.

Revelle added more sprouts
to her veggie burger. “The popularity of the Platinum ads is unprecedented. We
live in a society where people love the idea of love. The campaign captures the
magic of a hot look that carries a man and woman to happily ever after.”

Dayne pushed a Greek salad
around on her plate, but couldn't stomach a bite. “I'm not happy. I can't cross
a street without someone asking about Kason and me.”

“Kason's a very private
person. The campaign wasn't easy for him either,” Revelle reminded her.

“But he agreed to it, I got
roped in.”

Revelle touched a napkin to
the corner of her mouth, looked at Dayne strangely. “You don't know, do you?”

Dayne blinked. “Know what?”

“I'm not certain it's my
place to tell you.”

“You're my boss; we work
together.”

Still Revelle hesitated.
She finished half her veggie burger before admitting, “Kason did the shoot for
you.”

Dayne didn't believe her. “He
did the ad for a hundred grand.” She'd seen the check.

Revelle fingered the edge
of her place mat. “Kason's not about money. He signed his check over to Rhaden
last week in support of First Base. Rhaden's had a lot of rough kids join the
center lately, including a hellion named Samson Banks. He's spent a lot of time
with the kid.”

Revelle paused while a
waiter refilled her glass with sparkling mineral water. “As far as Kason,” she
continued, “he flat turned me down when I first approached him. I'd every
intention of hounding him again, but he came to me shortly afterward, on
Opening Day, right as I'd started to interview applicants for the assistant's
position. Kason said he had someone in mind for the job and asked me to hire
her sight unseen.”