Page 20 of Sweet Spot

Fucking hell.

“The swing is looking good,” J.D. continued. “How has Isaac Anson affected your game?”

It was probably a fair question, but it annoyed me. It wasn’t like Isaac was a stranger. “If you remember, I played college ball with Anson. Both Ansons.”

“Oh, I remember. Does having someone who used to be a teammate affect the relationship of manager and player?”

“No. Isaac Anson is and always has been, one of the greatest ballplayers of our generation. If he tells me to do something, I’m going to do it. It’s a fucking shame it took this long for someone to realize how brilliant he could be at managing.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared.

It made J.D. chuckle. He was a good guy. J.D. had been an average pitcher once upon a time, but he was a great analyst. Something he had in common with Isaac.

So I said so. “You see the game differently, J.D. You see the whole picture. So does Isaac.”

“I look forward to seeing more great baseball out of the Mantas this season.”

I finally made it to my car and pulled away before anyone else got in my way. My phone kept vibrating in the cradle so I answered even though I really, really didn’t want to.

“Hey Stella.”

“Seth! I’m in town for the weekend!” She sounded high.

“I’m not. Spring training, remember?”

“Oh, boo. When will you be back?”

I cracked my neck and jumped on the highway. “Stella, we talked about this. I’m taking a break. Not just you…everyone. I’m not dating anyone.” She probably thought it was a lie. One of thousands I’d told women over the years. Whatever it took to get what I wanted.

Just me, myself, and I. That’s all I cared about. Asshole.

“It’s just…I have a showing in Miami next month. I really want you there.”

That was the old me. Any chance to make a splash, cash, and an orgasm. “I can’t, Stella. Next month I’ll be in the thick of baseball season. And besides, I’m not dating anyone.”

“It doesn’t have to be a date. It could just be two friends making a lucrative appearance together. Come on, Sethy-poo. Please?”

I would have bent like a twig in a strong gust just a few weeks ago. “Sorry. I really need to just be by myself for a while. I hope you can understand.”

The line went silent. It stayed silent for a really long time. Then, “Fine. If you’re done with me you could have just said that.” Then my phone beeped and the call ended.

“I did tell you that.” Fuck, the problem with lying to everyone about everything was that no one believed you when you finally told the truth.

I pulled into the driveway of the house I rented for the month. There were already two other cars taking up one side of the driveway. I slid into the empty garage. The moment I opened the door I was hit by the scent of garlic and groaned.

“I told you guys you don’t have to cook for me!”

Juan, Alex, and Manny all stood at different places around the kitchen. Juan had a knife and several different kinds of vegetables chopped up in front of him. Alex stood over the stove. Manny mixed up a salad.

“We all gotta eat, man,” Alex said. “Just accept our gratitude.”

“Fine.” I threw my keys into the bowl and dropped my backpack by my bedroom door. It was my custom to rent a big house and offer the extra rooms to the minor leaguers for free. This month was their chance to prove they had the stuff to hang with the big boys. Most, if not all, of them would return to the minors, the low pay, and whatever housing was offered. Giving these guys a chance to stay somewhere a little nicer and get a taste of what life might be like when they made it, was my way of giving back.

Things were way worse when I was in the minors, but it was still important to me to help where I could. Baseball was a fickle lover, giving great fame and riches to a very small handful of players, and absolutely exploiting the dreams of hundreds more.

I got to be in the handful and I’d be damned if I didn’t acknowledge how fucking rare it was. “So what’s on the menu?”

They plopped me down at the table with a bowl of spicy-as-fuck meat and veggies with a side of some kind of rice and a beer. The best part of baseball, aside from playing and the money, was meeting guys from all over the world. They brought their cultures and cuisine into my life and I appreciated the fuck out of it. Last year I had a player from South Korea introduce me to food and drinks I never even heard of. This year my guys had a hot streak. Sometimes it was a little too hot.

At least they were generous with the beer.

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