The Shortstop, page 12
Like her husband, Ava has been really nice to me as well. We sat together at the doubleheader. She’s so sweet and down-to-earth. Ava and I have a lot in common. She’s a few years older than me. Once she and Jeff were married, she left her fashion job and has dedicated her time to volunteering at a shelter for abused women.
I love that and immediately asked if they could use help. Having explained my situation and how I made a complete three-sixty in regards to my career, she said having something so monumentally rewarding has made a world of difference. Without having to voice my issues, she knows what I’m struggling with. Having a partner who’s making money hand over fist, and there I am not making one red cent. I thank God I met Ava at this point in my life.
I introduced her to my mom and Daphne at Quint’s opening game. When Daphne got me alone later that night, she threatened to cut me if I replaced her with Ava. That’s how I knew Daphne liked her. She tries to act cool and cocky, but she can’t fool me. She misses me. I knew as much when she accused me of abandoning her in Baltimore. It hasn’t helped that Billy found himself a job.
He said she’s been a bitch since I left. He’s been on the receiving end, and his tolerance is running out. I told her to be nice, reminding her he won’t stand for her shit again. Surprisingly, she didn’t argue. There’s only so much solo beach time one can handle before it becomes monotonous. She’s bored. Enough so, she’s actually started her job search.
With Quint gone, the paparazzi have left as well. He prepped me on what to do if they stuck around. Ava has also given me some tips, although she said Jeff was never hounded as badly as Quint has been. It was easy for her to grab a cab or go shopping without their annoying presence. I’m hoping the same holds true for me.
Thankfully, I’m able to get out of my hotel and hail a cab like a normal person. The cab pulls up in front of Bloomingdales. Ava is standing at the door, waiting for me. We decided on shopping for a while. She has a formal this weekend and asked for my help in choosing something.
“Hey, girl,” she says with a smile. As I reach her, she pulls me into a warm hug. “Ready to help me find something to fit my ass?”
“Oh, stop. You’re stunning.”
“You’re sweet, but I own the fact that I have junk in my trunk. Jeff likes it.” She hooks her arm through mine and pulls me in the door.
“I was just here with Daphne a few days ago. She loves this store.”
“So do I. If you can’t find it here, you’re going naked.”
The store is fairly empty for this time of day. I guess it’s too early for the lunch rush. In no time at all, we are in the department that Ava needs, rifling through racks of formal gowns. These dresses are a fortune. Each one has a steeper price tag than the next. Some are so beautiful, I couldn’t imagine ever wearing them in my lifetime. I would assume there’d be formals in our future. I envision Quint in a tuxedo. The thought makes me miss him. The one and only time he wore one was at our prom. He was the best-looking guy there that night.
“Annie!” Ava calls very loudly from the opposite corner of the formal department.
“You found something?”
“Yes for YOU!” She holds up a beautiful, cream silk, fitted gown. It’s so simple, and it’s stunning. “You must try this on,” she pleads, pushing the gown at me.
“I have nowhere to wear this,” I respond, amused.
“Um, aren’t you getting married?” she asks with an exaggerated eye-roll.
A wedding gown?
I guess it could be a wedding gown. It’s atypical of what most brides wear. It’s actually more my style than a traditional gown.
“You think?” I ask, hesitantly.
“Absolutely. If I could wear something like this, I would most definitely wear it as a bride. You must try it on.”
I take the gown and search for the price tag. “Holy shit,” escapes from my mouth when I find it. “Ava, this is a fortune.”
“Annie, my love. Do you have any idea how much wedding gowns cost? A proper designer gown is at least four times this amount. This is a bargain in comparison.”
“Really? Thousands?”
“Yes, babe. Thousands. Now go try it on.”
The fabric feels like heaven. Imagining Quint’s face as I walk down the aisle toward him has me grinning like a fool.
“Come. This was made for you. You’ll see.”
She leads me to the fitting rooms. The attendant hands us a ticket, and without an invite, Ava walks into the small room behind me. I’m not so surprised. Daphne would do the same. I’m also not modest. Playing sports in high school cures you of that.
I strip down to my panties and slip the dress on over my head. The silk feels amazing against my skin. It’s fitted and flares slightly at my feet. The dress cuts in a sweetheart neckline around the top of my breasts. Above the silk is a sheer organza fabric that covers my shoulders from front to back, leaving my arms bare. The fabric shimmers just enough and plunges in a deep V-neck to where it’s joined with the silk. When Ava zips up the back, I gasp at how beautiful it is. The hanger didn’t do it justice. It’s a perfect fit, almost as if it was custom-made. I’m not busty, but the dress enhances what little I have. The neckline is trimmed with seed pearls. Other than that, there aren’t any embellishments anywhere else. It’s not flashy, which is why I love it.
“Oh my God, Annie. It’s perfect. Look at you.” She comes closer and holds my hair up off my neck. “A simple veil, earrings, and you’re done. This is all you need to get married in.”
“I do love it.” I skim my hands down the front of the gown. “This is silly. We haven’t even set a date.”
“It’s not silly. You don’t pass up the perfect gown. Trust me. I spent days looking. Can you guess which one I ended up with? The first one I tried on. I kept thinking of that first one and ended up wasting a lot of time for no reason.” She stares at my reflection. “If you don’t buy it, I’m buying it for you.”
“Okay, you convinced me. Quint is going to love this gown.”
“He sure is. I love that it’s not white. The color is perfect for your skin tone.”
Our eyes meet in the mirror. “I can’t believe I’m about to buy my wedding dress. My mom is going to flip.”
Guilt flashes over Ava’s face. “Oh no. I don’t want to steal her thunder.”
“No, don’t worry. She knows how untraditional I am. She used to tease me when I was younger that I’d probably wear jeans and a Yankees T-shirt when I got married. She’ll love that I bought a dress that’s even remotely wedding-like.”
“I still feel bad,” she responds, not looking convinced.
“Honestly, she doesn’t expect me to do things the customary way.” I smooth my hands over the fabric, turning left to right to see it from every angle. “I’m in my wedding dress,” I repeat, staring at my reflection in awe.
Ava pulls out her phone and asks me to turn. When I do, she snaps a few pictures and texts them to me. “Make me feel better. Send these to your mom so she can see it.”
“I will as soon as I get back to the hotel. I promise.”
I’d also love to send them to Quint, just to see the look on his face. I know it’s bad luck, but I may not be able to wait until our wedding to show him. I may have to break the rules.
Chapter Fifteen
Quint
As each day passes, I’m becoming more and more addicted to being a Yankee. Every game, every play feels monumental. Traveling with the team is fucking fantastic. I feel like I’m a member of baseball royalty as we arrive at other stadiums for away games. It has nothing to do with being conceited. It’s more to do with the history and the tradition behind our pinstripes. Even though most baseball fans hate us, and everything that we represent, it only validates the need to constantly defend our legacy.
I’ve settled into a nice position on the team. In just a few weeks, I’ve been dubbed “Kid Clutch.” The more pressure there is to perform, the better I do. If I had joined the team at the beginning of the season, my batting average alone would have me at the All-Star Game.
“Keep playing this way kid, and next year, you’re a shoo-in,” Coach said with a pat on my ass. He’s a man of few words, so when you’re graced with them, you know they mean something.
My team has also been very liberal with their compliments. They aren’t just blowing smoke up my ass. They are impressed and appreciate every effort I make. Along with the praise they shower me with comes an endless barrage of pranks. I never know what I’ll find in my locker-room cubicle. Many of the pranks are male versions of what a bride would receive at her bridal shower. I’ve found all sorts of sex toys, embarrassing jockstraps, even a pinstriped teddy for Annie to wear on our wedding night. When I brought it home to her, she was mortified. I thought it was hot as fuck.
Annie has accomplished so much since we’ve gotten here. With Ava’s help, she found a great three-bedroom condo in Fort Lee, New Jersey. The commute to the stadium is very easy. The best part was the price tag compared to apartments half that size in New York. We’ll rent it for a few months to be sure we love the location. I’m sure we will. Annie is a Jersey girl at heart. She may love the city, but her roots are over the Hudson River.
The condo is perfect and has everything I demanded. While I traveled, she unpacked our stuff and made it our home. We have a home, we each have a car, and the most surprising thing is she has her wedding dress. I couldn’t believe when she told me she found it and bought it on the spot. I also thought that was hot as fuck. I can’t wait to see her in it, and then out of it. We finally set a date. Annie Weber will become Annie Lawson on the seventh of November. The baseball season will be over, enabling us to have the wedding, and most importantly, a long-ass honeymoon.
Everything is falling into place.
Except for Daphne and Billy.
Those two are a mess. I only know bits of information from what Annie has told me. Billy has been uncharacteristically quiet. He was never one to share every detail, but when things are bad, I usually hear it from his mouth. Not in a bitching or moaning way, more like he was talking out loud and needed validation he wasn’t the crazy one.
I always assured him his girlfriend had a loose screw. There hasn’t been one fight or argument between them that I sided with Daphne. After our last conversation, I reluctantly said I think he needs to walk away. She’s toxic to him. He deserves so much better. I’ll admit the same to her if she asks me.
My friend is lost. On one hand, he wants to stay and try to work things out with her. On the other hand, he wants to go back to Florida. I can’t say I blame him. I’d be hightailing it south without looking back. The problem is, Daphne isn’t making the decision easy on him. When it gets to the point he’s at his limit, she pleads for him to stay. She’s messing with his resolve, and it causes him to second-guess everything.
Annie and I are baffled. It’s most definitely a form of mental abuse. Either she’s a raving lunatic or she’s a sweet, loving girlfriend. There’s no in-between, and her two-sided personality is impossible for Billy to understand. It’s not my problem, and their relationship makes me thank Christ daily for what I have with Annie.
I love my best friend, but he needs to work this out on his own. What he has with Daphne is a constant loop of drama. I can’t understand it or relate to it, nor do I want to. That may sound selfish, but I can’t feel bad about my lack of patience. Those two are trains heading toward each other on the same track.
Today is a travel day. We just finished up a series in Baltimore. It was a good series, despite the guilt I carried with me. It’s not that I regret leaving the franchise. I just regret the way I left, without warning. I know it’s not atypical in this business. It still bothers me regardless. We ended up losing the series. Maybe one would consider it poetic justice?
The commute from Baltimore is a quick one. It’s early afternoon when I let myself in to our condo. We’re off for a few days because of the All-Star break. I’m looking forward to doing abso-fucking-lutely nothing. These days are so few and far between that when we are gifted with even one, not to mention three, there isn’t a thing I want to do but be alone with Annie and relax…preferably naked. It’s also my birthday tomorrow. The only gift I want is Annie wrapped in some sexy lingerie.
“Q!” she yells when I let myself in, and she catapults right into my arms. I barely have time to drop my bag to catch her midair.
“I missed you so much.” She plants kiss after kiss after kiss all over my face.
“Oh my God! What are you wearing?” She has on a Yankees hat, a tight little Yankees cutoff T-shirt, a pair of navy striped tube socks, and a pair of navy blue striped panties.
“You like? I’ve been waiting for you.” Her outfit causes the ache in my cock to grow, eliciting a sexy smile on her gorgeous lips. She rubs up against me with raised brows. “I think you like.”
“Isn’t that stating the obvious?” I grip her head and crush my lips against hers. She kisses me back like it’s been years since she’s seen me and not just days.
“Do you want to take a shower?”
“Yes.” I throw her over my shoulder, heading for our bedroom.
“I already showered today,” she giggles and squirms as I carry her.
“You stink. You need another one.”
With one hand, I turn on the water while keeping a firm hold on her thighs. The more she struggles, the more I whack her ass playfully. “Stop fighting me or you’ll go in just as you are.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she threatens, ignoring my demand.
I kick off my shoes and purposefully step right into the shower, fully clothed, with her over my shoulder.
“Q!” she calls out as the water drenches us completely.
I release my hold just enough so she can slide down my body. Once she’s on her feet, I mold her breasts with my hands. Their definition under her flimsy wet T-shirt leaves nothing to the imagination. I can see the outline of her breasts, her erect nipples, and even the darker shade of pink surrounding them. Bending, I gently bite down on one, tugging playfully until she moans.
It takes tremendous effort to remove my wet clothes while desperately wanting to get naked. Maybe this wasn’t a very good idea. By the time we’re done, our heavy breathing cancels out the sound of the water hitting our bodies. I sit on the shower floor and lower her over my throbbing cock until there isn’t a sliver of space between us. The heated water pounds down on us as we manically fuck. The level of desire we’ve reached is obvious when we both come just a few minutes after I first thrust into her. Frantic fucking has become a common practice between us after I’ve been away for a while. It’s a pattern we’ve unconsciously adopted, a new sacred ritual. It’s as if we need to get it out of our systems. Minutes after I get home, I’m buried deep inside her and we’re releasing every ounce of our angst while we were separated. We need to validate the absence we were forced to endure with a crude, raw connection. Once we do, we can resume being Quint and Annie.
“How long are we going to sit in here?” she mumbles into my chest.
“Until I’m due back at the stadium,” I say in between kisses. She giggles, but doesn’t argue. Instead, she snuggles closer to my body. After several long minutes, I finally withdraw from her warmth. “God, I missed you. Can I stuff you in my bag when I leave again? I’m pretty sure you can fit in there.”
“You’d be too distracted. You need to play ball when on the road and not play with me. When you’re home though, you’re fair game. Come, we’re pruning.” She stands and holds her hand out. When I take it, she pulls me up and grabs a towel for each of us.
Hand in hand, we walk back into the living room still damp from our impromptu shower.
“Go sit. I’ll get you a beer.”
“Thanks, baby.” Taking her advice, I sag on the couch completely relaxed and sated. Her laptop sits on the table, open to a Word document. “How’s the book coming?”
She hands me a cold beer and sits beside me. “Remember how I couldn’t write down my thoughts fast enough a few weeks ago?” I nod while taking my first sip. “Yeah, well, not so much anymore. It’s like they suddenly became shy. I think I wrote a few pages in the past few days. I keep opening the doc just to stare at it.”
“I’m sure it’ll come to you again.”
“I hope so. What do you want to do for your birthday tomorrow? I have a few ideas.”
“You.”
“That’s part of my idea. What about dinner or something else?”
“Nope. I want to stay in this condo all day, alone with you, preferably naked.”
“You’re very demanding. But, it is your birthday.” She runs her hand through my wet hair. “You need a haircut,” she says with a smile.
“I know.”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yeah, maybe just a trim.” Annie has cut my hair before when I couldn’t get to a barber.
“Okay, after you finish your beer.” She asks me how the series went. She watches every game, but she loves to hear it from me. She feeds off every detail, mesmerized by my recounting of a certain play or a particularly good hit at the plate. As I talk, she empties my bag. “Leave it, baby. I’ll do it.”
“I want to,” she says, smiling when she lifts the dual picture frame I take with me wherever I go. With a fingertip, she skims the picture on the left. “We stayed under that sprinkler so much that summer, our skin was permanently pruned.”
I chuckle at the memory. “I remember. My dad had the greenest lawn in town.”
She continues to stare at the picture contemplatively. “Do you wonder what our kids will look like?”
“With luck, they’ll look like you.” Standing and crossing the distance between us, I take the photo from her hand to stare at it. “If we have a little girl with your eyes and your smile, I’m finished.”
“And if we have a boy who hates sports?”
I grimace at that thought and say, “I’d be okay with that.” She quirks a brow and waits for me to revise my answer. “Okay, I’d be devastated, but I’d still love him.”
