Page 2 of Fake Love

The trade though, that took me by surprise. I should have expected it, I should have seen it coming like the suspension, but it still blinded me.

Even more so when the first call I got as I walked out of the rehab facility I was in for six week, was from my agent telling me that Chicago had traded me to San Francisco.

I thought that the team that had built me from the ground up had my back, I couldn’t have been more wrong. I guess when you have two suspensions under your belt for illegal substances the non-trading clause that’s in your contract goes out the window.

So instead of leaving Utah and heading back to Chicago to see my mom and get shit squared away, I’m currently trying to deplane a flight in San Francisco.

“I have places to be!” The lady in the row behind me exclaims as we wait for the people in front of us to start moving.

I look at my watch and see that we’ve only been waiting for four minutes. I let out a snort at the lady’s eagerness, damn sure she’s what my mom would call a Karen.

After three minutes of Karen’s annoying complaints of getting off the plane faster because she has dinner reservations, the people ahead of me finally start to move.

The woman behind me exasperates loudly. “Finally.”

I hear her shift from right behind me, the pleasure of having an aisle seat, and when I look at the mom that is sitting across from me, I know I need to make Karen’s day a little more worse.

My seat gets pushed forward and I take that as my signal to go through with my plan.

Shoving out of my seat, I stand to full height in the aisle, blocking anybody behind me from taking another step.

As I wave for the mom and her two kids to go, as well as my seat mates, I receive an earful from Ms. Karen.

“Excuse me, I was supposed to go. I have reservations.”

“I think everyone on this damn plane knows you have reservations.” I grumble under my breath, turning to face the lady and giving her a smirk.

She has the audacity to gasp. “Who do you think you are? I have a right to get off this plane.”

Giving her another smirk, I turn and grab my bag out of the overhead compartment before making my way out of this metal tube.

I hear the woman complain the whole way off and continue to hear her as we make our way out of the gate.

If I hadn’t just gotten out of rehab and was still high out of my mind, I would have blown up on her.

Putting the lady and her childish tantrum behind me, I make my way through the terminal and out of the airport.

This isn’t my first time in San Francisco, but it is my first time being here while not traveling as a part of the Cubbies.

It’s definitely a different feeling.

When I make it over to arrivals, I look around for any sign of the team representative that Cole, my agent, said was going to pick me up.

I see nothing at the baggage claim, so I make my way outside onto the curb. When I don’t see anyone, I’m about to call Cole to tell him the person is late when someone lets their horn rip, not even thirty feet away from me.

After jumping a bit and letting my heart settle back in its place, I look up to find an enthusiastic kid jumping out of a dark SUV and waving me over.

I guess this is my ride.

Kid doesn’t even look old enough to drive and he’s the team representative?

Letting out a sigh, I walk over to the SVU.

“Mr. Bauer, sir, I’m Jai. I will be taking you to the stadium today.” Jai holds out a hand for me to shake, which I do.

“Thank you for coming.” I say to him.

“It’s my pleasure, sir. Do you have any other bags with you?” Jai looks around as if I may have left my bags somewhere unattended.

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