“That sounds like a you problem,” Jason teased. Cam glared at him and he held his hands up in surrender. Cam might be slight, but it was evident that Jason wasn’t about to piss him off.
“So Cam, you do realize you’re not cooking for the entire team tomorrow, right?” I wasn’t trying to complain, but it looked like we had enough food for fifty people, not the seven who’d be here for lunch.
“Yeah, I’d need a hell of a lot more food if I was.” Cam laughed. “Seriously, I’m beginning to think you guys earn your huge salaries because they’re worried you won’t be able to eat enough if you made what mere mortals make.”
“Good point, although I think you went soft when you were out in New York,” I teased. We’d grown closer in the almost two weeks since he’d come home. When they weren’t at their place fucking like rabbits, Jason and Cam were here so Cam could spend time with Drew. It irritated me that Drew didn’t seem to be upset by Cam’s hovering the way he was if any of us did it, but it was impossible to ignore the shift in his attitude since Cam returned. “You’re used to cooking itty bitty servings, just enough for those pretentious judges to taste so they can tear you to shreds.”
Cam wouldn’t let anyone else cook when he was around and acted as though a major crime had been committed if anyone suggested takeout, which meant we’d all been treated to Cam’s culinary skills nearly every evening. I was fairly certain there was nothing that guy couldn’t cook.
“They weren’t that bad.” He obviously knew better than I did, but from what I’d seen, the judging panel on the first episode made it their mission to see if they could get the contestants to crack under the pressure. “And think about it… They’re putting their names on the line every time they critique us. They’re all accomplished chefs with years of experience.”
“Yeah, except for that one guy,” I pointed out. Even Cam had grumbled about how one of the chefs had no place judging a kiddie competition, much less one where the stakes were so high. “I’m wondering if he partied so hard that his taste buds died somewhere along the way. You made that exact dish for us, and unless you totally fucked it up on the show, he’s crazy to say it was bland and had the texture of baby food.”
“Yeah, well he must be doing something right,” Cam countered. “He’s got one of the top-rated shows on the network. Not many people in the world can say that.”
“True, but what does he really do? He just visits restaurants around the country and shoots the shit with the owners and patrons,” Jason added, obviously in agreement with my opinion. “So, are you going to tell us how many weeks we have to watch him? Because as much as I love you, I’m not sure I’ll make it through to the end without throwing something at the television.”
“There are only ten episodes left.” Cam was getting better at deflecting the constant prodding for him to tell us how he did on the show. Jason perked up, assuming Cam was giving him some sort of clue that he’d made it to the finals. His shoulders slumped forward almost as soon as Cam started talking again. “Remember, I spent a month living with these people. Even if I’m not on the show, I’m going to want to watch to see how they did.”
Jason groaned. “Babe, you’ve got to give me more than that. Seriously, the only reason I’m watching is for you. Once you’re cut, you can keep watching and I’ll be able to fuck around on the computer without feeling guilty.”
Cam shrugged and turned back to whatever he was working on on the stove. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see along with everyone else.”
He glanced over his shoulder and blew Jason a kiss. Jason scowled, but no one would have believed that he was genuinely upset. If anything, it seemed this had become some sort of ritual for them, and would likely end later tonight when everyone had gone to bed, with Jason trying to coax the information out in exchange for sexual favors.
With sex back on my mind, I realized Bryce and Drew still hadn’t come out of the bedroom. I excused myself and ambled through the great room. I hadn’t made it halfway down the hall when my phone started ringing. Jason glanced at the screen and wished me luck as he tossed the phone in my direction.
It was Sam Carlson, my agent. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t necessarily bad news, but with every day the Sound head office waited to sign my new contract, the less certain I’d become of my future with the team.
“Sam, tell me you have good news for me,” I answered, skipping over pleasantries. It was a holiday week, which made it odd that he was calling now. I couldn’t imagine most of the decision-makers were doing much deciding when they could be off spending time with their families.
Sam sighed heavily and my heart plummeted. I’d been with him since I was in college and I’d learned to read his non-verbal cues to figure out the meaning behind what he was saying. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t good at his job, but he had a tendency to try to soften the blow and make average deals seem better than they were. He had his few heavy-hitters who did a sufficient job lining his pockets, so the rest of us were just extra padding to him.
“I’m afraid I don’t, Eric.” At least he sounded upset for me. “They’ve opted out of signing a new contract. Now, don’t worry too much because I’m in talks with a few other teams to see if they’re interested in you now that you’re a free agent. There’s plenty of time before the start of next year. I’m sure something will come along.”
That was easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one who’d just gotten the ax. As much as I didn’t want to get sent down, it seemed like even more of a blow that they were cutting me outright from the team. There was no security, no forty-man roster to assure me I could work my way back to Iberia Field. I was cut loose with no guarantee anyone would want me.
When I was younger, I had plenty of confidence in my abilities. I put up solid numbers even though I was never going to be a record breaker. My coaches and managers called on me for my ability to go out there and play a smart game every day, knowing that I wouldn’t let them down. Now, I was creeping up on forty, which felt ancient with all of the kids in their early twenties being called up every week. Granted, I still had a few years to go before hitting that particular milestone, but when sitting next to guys who were barely into their twenties, that didn’t matter. I was fucking old.
I wasn’t as confident as Sam that another team would want me. Last year hadn’t been my best, but I’d also had a lot on my mind. Seattle had never felt like home to me. It was the place I’d been shipped off to play whether I liked it or not. And then my grandpa died and I was left to deal with that. And yeah, the drama with Mason and Sean being outed took an emotional toll on me as well. I wanted to be there for them, to help make sure they weren’t going to fall apart when faced with the assholes coming at them with disgusting slurs. I shouldn’t have let any of that affect my play, but I know it all had.
And honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d take a deal if it was offered to me unless I was guaranteed I wouldn’t be back in the minors. Having to go down and wait for the skipper to call me into his office at my age would be humiliating. Not only that, but where the young players looked at it as a way to groom themselves into the players of the future, for guys like me, it was no different than being sent out to pasture.
“Thanks for letting me know, Sam,” I responded. I didn’t let him know about any of the reservations I felt at the time because I didn’t want him to think I was giving up. I wasn’t a quitter, it was more that I was starting to realize that baseball couldn’t last forever and it might be time to get ready to hang it up.
“I’m sorry I dropped this on you right before the holiday,” Sam apologized. “But you needed to know as soon as I did.”