The Shortstop

THE SHORT
STOP

By:

A.M. Madden

The Shortstop

A.M. Madden

Published by A.M. Madden

Copyright ©2015 A.M. Madden

First Edition, e-book-published 2015

ISBN:

All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The use of team names, media outlets, locations, and products throughout this book are done for storytelling purposes and should in no way been seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

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To my three kings, you rule my world.

“Now batting…number seven…shortstop…Quint Lawson!”

The thousands start screaming my name. Okay, maybe it’s more like hundreds, but there may as well be thousands. They are everywhere, lining the fence that runs along the perimeter of the field, sitting shoulder to shoulder in the metal bleachers behind home plate. Hundreds of smiling faces staring at me, just waiting for me to do my thing.

The high school varsity baseball coach sits in the stands. I’m only going into the eighth grade this September and won’t be starting high school until next fall. He heard about me and came to see for himself. The chances of me just walking on to that varsity team are pretty damn good. All eyes are on me. The only eyes I care about are the blue ones that belong to my best friend, Annie Weber. Her clapping is the loudest, her smile the biggest. Even as she sits beside my mom, there’s no question that Annie is my biggest fan.

She moved in next door when we were five. While playing on my front lawn and minding my own business, she stalked right up to me in her denim shorts and Yankees’ T-shirt. She introduced herself and immediately sat down to play with my trucks. There isn’t a girl I know who’s as cool as Annie. Not afraid to get dirty, not afraid to play like a boy, not afraid to sneak into my garage to have our first beer. She wasn’t even afraid when I kissed her behind her shed a few weeks ago.

Not only did I kiss her, I rubbed my boner on her. I couldn’t help it. It was there, and she was making it really hard to think straight. When I realized what I was doing, I froze, waiting for her to slap me or run away. She didn’t. She kissed me back that day…and every day since then. That’s when things changed between us, in a very good way. So now, I’m guilty of kissing and dry humping my best friend every chance I get.

I love kissing her…and I think I love her. Actually, I think I fell in love with her at the age of five and just didn’t know it.

We continue to make eye contact, and she gives me a thumbs-up. As I make my way toward the plate, I look over at my dad standing at first base.

With his game face on, he gives me a nod and a single clap. “Come on, son. You got this.”

Coaching my teams to the championships year after year since T-ball, he often brags, “
I get paid to be a math teacher, but my real job is a volunteer Little League coach
.”

He’s tough, fair, and he sometimes forgets that he’s my dad when playing the role of my coach. My mom thinks he puts too much pressure on me. Sure, he pushes me hard, but I push myself harder. I’ve inherited his talent. His dreams of the big leagues never became a reality. He gave up too quickly. He knows I want this more than anything and is making sure I don’t give up like he did. The difference between us is that I won’t stop until I get it.

“
You keep doing your thing, Quint, and the scouts will be pounding on our door
.”

Doing my “thing” is just what I’m about to do. All the years of playing have led to this one game. If we win this, our next stop is the Little League World Series. I should be nervous, but I’m not. Over the years, I’ve stood at this plate so many times it may as well be my home. Baseball is what I was born to do.

“Come on, Quint!” I distinctly hear Annie’s scream above all others coming from the bleachers. “You got this!”

The umpire and catcher wait patiently for me to get into position. I take my time, moving through my superstitious routine of tapping home plate with my bat three times and meeting Annie’s eyes one last time before I focus on the pitcher. He’s nervous. Most are nervous when they pitch to me. At almost twelve, I stand as tall as most grown men. My strike zone is hard to hit, causing them to throw too high, or too low. I like the low ones. I can send them sailing into oblivion.

The first pitch is right down the middle, but I never take the first pitch. The next three pitches are practically in the dirt. The pitcher wipes his brow, looking toward his coach for guidance. A solid tap to shallow right would be enough for me to get one of my two teammates home to win this game. My best friend, David, stands on third base, taking a bigger lead than most would. Dave knows the pitcher wouldn’t waste his time trying to nab him when he has to worry about me. Over my shoulder, the umpire reminds me that the count stands at three-and-one.

My eyes remain trained on the pitcher as he shakes off signs from his catcher. At the fourth sign, he finally nods before moving his gaze back to me. He sends two more awful pitches, causing me to purposely tap them into foul territory. It’s that or face being walked. I want a hit so bad that I can taste it. This asshole wants nothing more than to walk me, and I’m getting pissed off. Walking is not an option right now. It just became personal, and I need to be the one to end it.

With a full count, an eternity passes as I wait for the next pitch. A stare-down between the pitcher and me hushes the crowd. At that moment, right before he throws that ball, time suspends for me. All noise ceases to exist as my subconscious tells me to cream this ball.

I smile deviously when the ball leaves his glove.

In slow motion, the ball travels right toward me, right down the center, right over the plate…and I send it right over the fence.

Quint

“Quint. Stop.” She uses my full name, which means she means business. With her eyes focused on her textbook, she blindly finds my jaw with her free hand and pushes me away. Two seconds later, I ignore her plea and resume tracing the edge of her ear with my tongue. “Quint!” The volume of her voice causes every surrounding table to instantly shush her.

“You’re going to get us kicked out of here,” I warn directly into her ear. My lips have a mind of their own, now attaching themselves to her neck. Goose bumps surface when I drag them to her lobe, gently pulling it between my teeth. A moan escapes immediately followed by a firm, “Stop.” She attempts to whisper, but it comes out in a high-pitched squeak. The dirty looks thrown her way cause her to blush profusely. “Oh my God. Quint, I need to study.”

“So, study. I’m not stopping you.” My lips travel down the side of her neck, and she hypocritically moves her head to the right, giving me better access. When I smile against her skin, she groans.

“Don’t you have a final tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Just because you are set for life doesn’t mean you should sabotage my college career. I need to ace these exams. I’m not sitting on a million-dollar contract.”

“I’ve told you before that you don’t have to worry. My job will be to support us, and your job will be to take care of me in every sense.”

She pulls away to gawk at me.

“What?”

With a heavy sigh, she asks, “Please? Give me a few hours?”

How can I resist her when she pouts so adorably? “Fine, I’ll meet you at the apartment?”

“Yes, thank you.” She leans forward and kisses me chastely. “I love you.”

“I know. Me, too.”

“I know.” She does know, but I truly don’t think she knows
how much
I love her. Annie and I have been inseparable since we were five. My mom calls us childhood sweethearts. The term couldn’t be more fitting considering I did fall in love with her as a child. I adore this girl. I adore every bone in her body, every hair on her head, every piece of her.

Even at the age of five, I knew she was special. I thought she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. With each passing year, she became more and more beautiful. Through the toothless phase, the tomboy phase, and awkward preteen phase, she always took my breath away. Girls didn’t like her because she hung out with a boy and, I suspect, because she was so pretty. Her down-to-earth personality and her beauty made her a perfect ten. Guys always flocked to her because of her looks. That automatically gave me the job as her bodyguard.

The summer she got tits, I got into a bunch of fights. I walked around angry and with a perpetual hard-on. I thankfully reached puberty shortly afterward. It was fucking hell for me. The ache in my junk shifted upward into my heart. I became an even-angrier-love-struck-horny-as-fuck-teenager-with-raging-hormones, definitely not a good combo. Whenever we were together, which was all the time, I desperately wanted to kiss her. One hot summer day, I finally took a chance. Surprisingly enough, she admitted she was waiting for me to do so.

She’s been my one and only girlfriend. We lost our virginity to each other on prom night. Since that day, we haven’t stopped. I would sneak into her room well after our parents were sleeping, making sure to sneak out at dawn. Great times have dominated the past seventeen years, spattered with a handful of not so great ones. A few years ago, I drove her to the free clinic after a broken condom scare had us thinking she was pregnant. I’ll never forget her tears that day. I soothed her as best as I could, even though the thought of getting her pregnant wasn’t devastating to me. It was a false alarm, and that had us changing our prophylactic measures.

Most of our stress came from outsiders. Everyone we met had something to say regarding our relationship.

We were too young to commit.

We were too young to be in love.

We were too young to know what we were doing.

So far, we’ve proven them all wrong.

Over the years, the closer we got, the more our parents voiced their concerns. But for the most part, they support us. That’s all we care about. Everyone else can go to fucking hell.

Applying to colleges was a hurdle regarding our parents. It took a shitload of convincing. They quickly realized separating us after high school wasn’t an option. With their blessing, we applied to the same schools, waited for acceptance letters, and together we chose Florida State. I fell in love with the baseball-friendly climate, not to mention its Division I NCAA baseball program. Annie gave it her approval, admitting being in Florida sounded like a slice of heaven.

Once we got here, we both majored in education, and I minored in communications. She plans on becoming an English teacher. I plan on playing baseball. If, for some reason, that were to suddenly change, my backup would be an athletic coach or sportscaster. Both my parents are teachers, and they respect Annie’s choice of her profession. Regarding me, they had a huge difference of opinion when it came to my college education.

While in high school, I was pursued by several major league teams. That’s when my mom put her foot down. I had to go to college, end of story. She kept quiet regarding my training, my schedule, and my goals. A college degree was nonnegotiable.

Less than five percent of all professional baseball players have a college degree. Her argument: if they truly wanted me, they would wait…and pay once I was ready. Dad finally agreed under the condition I was to attend the best Division I school possible. Thus, Florida State.

I love every part of college life. Having Annie here with me makes it perfection. Four years flew out the window in the blink of an eye. Freshman year seems like yesterday, filled with excitement, nervousness, and lots of sneaking around. Our dorms sat on opposite sides of campus. My roommate made a fortune accepting my bribes to sleep elsewhere. Occasionally, Annie would bribe hers to do the same. We were caught a few times by our resident advisor, forcing us to be more resourceful in our methods.

After completing our first year, we decided to convince our parents to let us rent an apartment off campus. How could they deny us? Their kids fell in love, were already living in a different state, and were stubborn as fuck. Once again, they conceded.

Besides Annie, my main focus throughout college has been baseball. If at all possible, I’ve gotten even better. That might sound cocky, but it’s simply the truth. I already have a signed contract with the Aberdeen IronBirds, the Baltimore Orioles’ minor-league team. My contract begins two weeks after graduation. Our apartment in Aberdeen is ready and waiting. Annie will be starting at Maryland in the fall to earn her master’s degree. During the summer, she’ll stay in our apartment while I play ball. That was yet another case to plead to her parents. They wanted her home in Jersey. We won.

With each battle, it gets easier. I calmly explain we are two good kids who happen to be in love. We don’t do drugs. We don’t screw around. We keep each other focused, and they really have nothing to complain about. I greatly respect her parents. They love me like a son. I’m not ashamed to say I use that often.

Once my speech is over, Mr. Weber always says I should have been a lawyer. I’m not dumb enough to think it’s my speech that finally has them thinking differently. They are very close to my parents. That has a lot to do with their acceptance of me in their daughter’s life.

We are a team in every sense. Every decision, we make together. She’s the first person I run to for advice. I’m the first person she asks for an opinion. We can practically finish each other’s sentences. She’s it for me, and I’m it for her.

So, here we are, ready to graduate from FSU. We’ve been blessed with the best college experience and have been very happy in our little academic world. The best part is yet to come. I’ll be playing baseball while living with the love of my life.

Fucking heaven.

I look forward to moving back north. It may not be Jersey, but close enough. I miss the change of seasons. Florida is too damn hot. Many other offers have come in, yet I remain dedicated to Baltimore. Not because they were my first offer or because I’ll be close to home. The main reason I signed with them was because they accepted my decision to finish college. Unlike the other teams knocking on my door, they supported me and didn’t try to dissuade me from waiting. That meant a lot to my family, and it meant their management had integrity. It’s a good place to start my career. My dream is to come out of the minors in record time, play a season with Baltimore, wow their fucking socks off, and get called up to the majors.

Annie turns toward me and raises her brows expectantly. “You going?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going.”

After another heated kiss, and a few more grumbles from our fellow students, I halfheartedly drag myself from the library. My next exam isn’t a concern for me. Annie’s right. It’s not like I need to worry about my diploma. With graduation a few weeks away, I’ve already checked out of academia.

“Hey, Quint.”

“Hi, Quint.”

“Great to see you, Quint.” The last chick adds a soft caress on my forearm.

With each salutation, I nod with a smile. The entire FSU female student population knows who I am, and the majority of them have been relentless in pursuing me. I ignore them, politely of course. I’ve been groped at parties, kissed under the guise of congratulations after a game, and even slipped numbers as Annie stood a few inches away. She’s been extremely patient with them. She trusts me. I’ve never given her any reason to doubt my commitment to her. Usually, she sympathizes with them, which baffles me.

“It’s because of the dollar signs they see in my future,”
I explain when one of them gets ballsy with her pursuit
.

“It’s because of your looks. Q, you are drop-dead gorgeous. Don’t pretend you don’t know that. It’s because you are a nice guy. It’s because you are kind and caring. Should I go on?”

I told her she was blinded by love. I’m okay looking, and I can be a prick at times. Whenever I admit that, she says I’ve lost a screw. She also claims my GPA is a direct result of my face.

“
Ms. Harris blatantly propositioned you while I stood there. You barely studied for that class. You got an A because of her crush
,” she said as we looked at our grades last semester. She stared at her B+ with a scowl. “
Sometimes I seriously hate you
.” Having the same major, we’ve had quite a few classes together these past four years.

I pretended to be angry. “
I worked hard for that A.”
At her eye-roll, I added
, “Okay, most of the time I work hard for them
.” I wanted to add that every A I earned from the male professors was legit, but that would’ve fueled her fire.

Once I step out of the cool library, the Florida heat hits me in the face. I debate on what I want to do for a few hours; if it weren’t so hot, I’d head to the basketball courts. There’s always a pickup game going on.

The light changes, and I’m still standing wondering what to do.

“Hey, shortstop,” a female voice says behind me. I turn to see Annie’s best friend approaching.

“Hey, Daphne.”

“Where is she?”

“Inside.” I motion to the building behind us. “She kicked me out.”

“She must have had a good reason. Where are you heading?”

“No clue. I have a few hours to kill.”

“I’m going to study with Annie. Billy is at the apartment. I left him there brooding.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t happy when the shoe I threw connected with his head.” When she sees my amused yet shocked expression, she adds, “What? I have a good arm.” With a shrug she walks away, leaving me wishing I had been there to see the whole thing unfold.

Daphne and Billy are the on-again/off-again duo that we live with…and who drive us nuts. Annie feels their issues are due to the fact they had sex first, and then came the relationship. They clearly have feelings for each other, and my girl, being an incurable romantic at heart, is determined to help them figure it all out.

As our days at FSU
come to an end, Annie hates that we’ll be separating. She was hoping they’d get their acts together by now. Annie feels the clock is ticking, and she’s doing all she can to get them to admit they love each other. She wants me to talk to Billy, and I’ve been arguing we shouldn’t get involved. Based on the fact Billy is home sulking, I guess the universe is telling me it’s time for that talk.