This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Triple Play
© 2015 Sloan Johnson
Cover Art: Cover Me, Darling
Cover Photography: Bryant Wood by Eric Battershell Photography
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. 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 Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Sloan Johnson, authorsloanj@gmail.com http://authorsloanj.com
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Two words: Bill Buckner. Four years before I was born, Mookie Wilson hit a ball up the first base line right between Buckner’s legs, causing the Red Sox to lose the World Series. Today, people still know his name, all because of that one play. As I stood beneath the spray of water following game five of the Divisional Championship, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d sealed a similar fate for myself in the bottom of the ninth.
“You’re going to turn into a prune if you stay in there any longer,” Jason hollered from outside the shower. While that wasn’t my intention, it seemed like a better outcome than turning off the water and having to face my teammates. I’d let them down today. My screw up ended the season for everyone. I wasn’t ready to deal with the looks of disappointment on their faces just yet. “I know you can hear me, Jackson. Now, quit jerking around and get dressed. There’s a bar with entirely too much alcohol on-hand, and it’s up to us to help them fix that problem.”
I didn’t want to drink. What I wanted to do was go home and sit in the dark for a few days. Before, I would have called Cam to have him give me a pep talk, but even that wasn’t possible. He was down in Chicago, hopefully getting ready to make his big break in the world.
“Thanks Jason, but I think I’m going to skip tonight,” I informed him as I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair. “Not really in the mood to party.”
Proving he had zero respect for personal space, Jason stepped into the shower and turned off the water. My head whipped to the side as I looked around to see if anyone noticed. I snagged my towel off the hook and wrapped it around my waist as I tried to sneak past Jason. He made that impossible as he clamped his hands around my biceps.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted, looking me square in the eyes. The words were nice to hear, even if they were a lie.
I jerked away from him, not wanting to rehash the single biggest mistake I’d made in the nearly twenty years I’d been playing baseball. Even when I played on our community tee ball league, I always worked hard to make sure I played by the rules. Today, I’d gotten too wrapped up in the fact that we were one run away from heading to the League Championship series. All I could think about was getting on base, and I lost sight of the ball and the baseman.
“Fucking fairies.” Mark Butler sneered as he shoulder checked me on the way to his locker. I bit my tongue because the man had every right to be pissed. Still, I wished Stu had been in the locker room to hear him spouting his homophobic bullshit. “...get the fuck out of here so I don’t have to worry about some fudge packer checking out my shit...”
I grabbed a fistful of Jason’s wet T-shirt to keep him from going after Butler. The last thing we needed was someone claiming Jason started the brawl that’d inevitably happen if he went after the asshole. The two of them had barely tolerated one another in the time since I’d been traded to Milwaukee, and that relationship had morphed into loathing after Mark started talking shit about Cam. I was glad my best friend had someone like Jason to take care of him, but I did worry Jason would snap if something didn’t give. Maybe everyone heading home for the winter was the best thing that could happen. Not being around one another every day would give tempers a chance to cool.
“Jason, you need to learn to ignore him,” I advised, pushing him down onto the bench. “Assholes like Mark will always be out there, but it’s up to you to choose how you react to it. If you ignore him, he’ll eventually get bored and move on.”
“Look, I know you mean well, but he’s an ignorant fucker, and I should have knocked him on his ass when I had the chance.” Jason was fuming mad. He curled his fingers around the edge of the bench so tightly I was sure he’d leave fingernail marks in the wood.
I slammed my locker closed. “No, you shouldn’t have. You might have felt better in that moment, but I don’t believe for a minute you wouldn’t have been upset with yourself after the fact. Plus, knowing Cam the way I do, that could have been a deal breaker for him. He doesn’t deal well with people beating the crap out of one another.”
My little plan to remind Jason how much he had to lose if he let his anger get the best of him backfired. When I looked over at him as I buttoned my shirt, he was clutching at his chest. I’d seen him do it many times before, but this time, something was different. The thin ball chain he always wore was missing.
“Have you heard from him yet?” I asked, sitting down next to him. If anyone had told me a few months ago that Jason would become one of my best friends and that he’d be in love with the man I’d dreamed about for much of my life, I’d have told them they were insane. However, there we were, both worried about how things were going for Cam in Chicago.
Jason shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m sure he’ll call when he can. Now, finish getting dressed. You’re going to drink so much tonight that you’ll eventually believe me when I tell you no one’s pissed off at you.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in the state for that,” I bemoaned. “Face it, I fucked up out there tonight. If I’d been paying attention, I wouldn’t have run into him.”
“And if fucking Butler hadn’t gotten greedy, he’d have still been safe at first,” Jason countered. “First and second were empty. The only reason he tried to head home was because he’s a self-centered son of a bitch who’s trying to prove himself. He wanted to be the hero of the game and he failed.”
“And he would have been the hero if I hadn’t run into Montoya,” I argued.
“He’s the one who stepped in your path,” Jason responded. I got the feeling we could go on like that all night, so I stood and started gathering the shit I wanted to take home with me. “I’m going to call Eric and tell him to meet us at the bar. If you’re not there, I will send someone after you.”