Brooklyn Heat (18 page)

“That is my favorite place in Manhattan.”

She turned to him, her eyes serious. “Name the last three books you bought from there.”

“Full Dark, No Stars by Stephen King, Catcher in the Rye by JD

Salinger, and a history of baseball book that I forget the name of because it’s out of print.”

“The Catcher in the Rye?”

“It’s for my little sister.”

This seemed to have stumped her, and she leaned back against the wooden slats of the dugout and closed her eyes.

“How’s your knee?” he asked.

“It’s okay,” she said. But she bit her lip, and he could tell it hurt.

“Here we go!” Dax walked into the dugout, no
bounded
into the dugout, and Jay reached out and took the little first aid kit he was holding out of his hand. “Oh, yeah,” Dax said. “You definitely need to get that cleaned out and get a band-aid on it. Obviously it doesn’t need a stitch, but we still don’t want it to get infected.”

No shit, Jay thought, fighting down a wave of annoyance. “Thanks, Dax,” he said cheerfully, the tone in his voice conveying that Dax should get the hell out of there. But Dax didn’t get the message. He started to open up a band-aid.

“Dax,” Jay said. “I got it.” Dax looked up at him, surprised, and Jay gave him a look. A look he usually reserved for when a runner was on second base and looking like he might want to steal third. Dax got the message, and scampered onto the field.

Jay pulled an antibacterial spray out of the box. Alyssa reached for it.

“I can do it,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Put the spray on.”

He looked at her face, and grinned. “You’re scared,” he said.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” He grinned some more. “It’s just some Bactine, it’s not going to sting or anything.”

“I know that,” she said, but he didn’t think she really believed it.

He took the cap off the bottle and she closed her eyes and bit her lip.

God, she was adorable, Jay thought. It was too bad she was so uptight and bitchy. In fact, that’s probably why he was having this reaction to her. He probably wanted to break her down. Of course, the fact that it had been way too long since he’d gotten laid definitely wasn’t helping.

He gently put the spray on her knee, and her body relaxed as she realized it wasn’t going to sting. He pulled a band-aid out and placed it on her scrape.

She looked down at it. He was expecting a thanks, but all she said was, “What was it about?”

“What?”

“Full Dark, No Stars. What was it about?”

“Four novellas,” he said. “My favorite was the one where the wife found out her husband was actually a deranged serial killer.”

She nodded, thinking about this. “Thanks for helping me,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he said. A strand of her hair had escaped from one of her braids, and before he could stop himself, he reached over and pushed it off her face. She whipped her head away from him, like she’d been slapped.

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t – “

“It’s fine.” But she was standing up and gathering her stuff, then heading down to the other end of the dugout. “Thanks again for helping me.”

And then she was gone.

~Chapter Five~

When Alyssa finally stepped into a cab at six o’clock that night, she was exhausted. Her hair had come out of her pigtails hours ago, her hand hurt from taking so many notes, her face hurt from perpetually smiling as she met person after person, and her feet hurt her from walking around all day. Who knew this job was going to be so physically demanding? To top it all off, she’d promised to meet up with Jessa Fields, an old college acquaintance, for drinks tonight before heading back to her hotel room and writing up tomorrow’s column.

At least it would be an easy one to write. Today’s time with the team had been relatively uneventful. She’d met most of the players, until they’d all begun to blur together into one big smiling mass. She’d met the general manager, Burt Hughes, although the owner, Billingsley, had been absent.

Which was pretty rude, Alyssa thought as the cab weaved its way through the streets of Brooklyn on the short ride back to her hotel. He’d missed his meeting with her yesterday, and she hadn’t gotten so much as a call or an email to apologize.

Back at the hotel, she showered, letting the day wash off of her. She wrapped herself in a towel and then surveyed the contents of her suitcase.

She wanted to step into her favorite jeans and a comfy cardigan, but she was going to meet Jessa. Jessa was one of those women who would most certainly be dressed to the nines, and by the sound of the place she’d picked for them to meet – some bar called Clique – Alyssa had the feeling that to show up in jeans and a sweater wouldn’t be appropriate.

So she pulled out the one going-out outfit she’d brought, purchased right before she’d left. A tight, short black skirt, knee-high boots, and a sleeveless black shirt that plunged down in the front. She topped it off with a shimmery cardigan, let her hair hang loose and curly down her back, and used her eyeliner to create a smoky eye. She dabbed on some lip gloss, surveyed herself in the mirror, and grinned. Not bad.

She took the elevator down to the lobby, and let the doorman hail her a cab, which dropped her off in front of Clique. Tables of smartly dressed people dotted the floor, and the walls of the bar were lined with soft-looking red leather sofas. It looked exclusive, posh, and intimidating. She sighed and scanned the area for Jessa.

There was a tap on her shoulder, and she turned around.

“Alyssa!” Jessa squealed, grabbing her in a hug. “Oh my God, I missed you! You look fabulous!”

“So do you,” Alyssa said, not sure how Jessa could have missed her so much since they were never really that close in the first place. Not to mention the fact that the only reason Jessa had known she was going to be in Brooklyn was because she’d read it on Alyssa’s facebook.

“Come on, let’s sit,” Jessa said. She grabbed Alyssa’s hand like they were in middle school or something, and led her to a table front and center.

“This is the best table to meet guys,” she declared. She sat down and pushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes. Alyssa didn’t remember her wearing it that long in college, but then she realized it was extensions. At least, she was pretty sure. No way anyone’s hair was that full and shiny naturally.

“I’m not really in a place to meet guys,” Alyssa said.

“Oh, right.” Jessa reached out and grabbed her hand again. “I heard about you and Joel.”

“From who?”

“Oh, you know.” Jessa waved her hand like gossip just floated around. Which, when Alyssa really thought about it, she guessed was true.

“So what happened? You guys seemed like such a perfect couple.”

A cocktail waitress came over and set down a couple of menus. “We just grew apart,” Alyssa said.

Jessa rolled her eyes. “Honey, no one ever just grows apart. There’s always a reason. So what was it?”

Alyssa thought about Joel Martin, the guy she’d dated all through college and for two years after graduation. She thought about his dark hair, his perfect smile, the way he could walk into a room and look at her like no one else was there. He was special, and he made her feel special.

He’d been a finance major at Syracuse, her a journalism major. But after graduation, something had changed between them. They’d lived together in a small apartment in Utica. It had been fine at first. But then Joel began pressuring her. He wanted to move to Chicago – he’d been offered a job there, and he was ready to go. He wanted Alyssa to quit her job, to start thinking about having a baby. But Alyssa didn’t want that.

She’d wanted to work on starting her career first. She was working at a little local paper, and Joel was making a lot more money than her, so sometimes it felt like his job was more important.

Joel had always been generous with money, not that Alyssa had ever taken advantage. When it came down to it, though, he thought that just because he made more money than her, that his job took precedence.

They’d broken up after the millionth conversation about it, when Alyssa realized it just wasn’t going to work. She didn’t want to stay home and be a homemaker. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with women who did – and she definitely wanted children someday. But she realized that as long as she was with Joel, he would be calling the shots.

It was like being married to a movie star or something. Like, if you married Brad Pitt and you were a normal person, you were never going to get a say in the relationship. You could never say you didn’t want to move to California if Brad wanted to, because whatever he was doing was always going to be more important than what you wanted.

“We really did just grow apart,” Alyssa said.

“Did you hear that he’s engaged to Hailey Sutton now?” Jessa asked, naming a girl they’d gone to school with.

“I know,” Alyssa lied, even though this was the first she’d heard of it.

“I sent them an engagement gift. A salad spinner.”

Jessa looked disappointed, but then her whole face lit up. “Oh my God,” she said, and grabbed Alyssa’s arm so tight that Alyssa flinched. “Is that Chad Parnell? From the Brooklyn Heat?”

Alyssa looked up and saw Chad walking across the bar, his head high, grinning at people as he greeted them.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s Chad.” She met his eye, and he raised his arm in greeting.

Jessa looked at her in awe. “He’s waving to you!”

“Yeah,” Alyssa said. “I’m here doing a story on the Brooklyn Heat, remember?” Did Jessa even remember that? What was wrong with this girl? She waved back to Chad, who then began weaving his way through the crowd toward them.

“Oh. My. God.” Jessa sounded like she was about to faint. “He’s coming over here!” Alyssa bit back the smile on her lips.

“Hey,” Chad said. “Fancy seeing you here. What’s going on?”

“Not much,” she said. “This is my, ah… my friend, Jessa. We went to college together.” She hoped by adding the whole ‘we went to college together’ line, Chad would get the message that her and Jessa weren’t that close, and therefore she shouldn’t be held responsible for any of Jessa’s crazy behavior.

“Helllo,” Jessa purred, apparently over her nervousness.

“Me and Dax are are going to hang at the bar,” Chad said. “You guys should come sit with us.”

Alyssa started to shake her head no – she’d had enough of baseball players for the day -- but before she could, Jessa said, “We’d love to!”

“Great,” Chad said. “What are you ladies drinking?”

“Red wine,” Alyssa said, and sighed.

“Grey Goose martini,” Jessa said.

Once Chad was headed back toward the bar, Jessa grabbed Alyssa’s hand in a death grip. “Oh my God,” she said. “He is soo hot.” She rooted around in her purse and pulled out her compact. “Do I look okay?”

“You look fine,” Alyssa said. She was starting to get a headache.

They joined Chad at the bar, and a few minutes later, Dax Reynolds showed up to join them. Alyssa had downed her glass of wine a little too fast, and when she went to say hello to Dax, she stumbled a bit on her heels.

“Whoa,” Dax said, putting his hands on her waist to steady her.

“Careful there.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m not used to these shoes.”

“Yeah, yeah, likely story,” he said. But he was grinning.

“Seriously,” she said. “I’m fine.” A few stools down, Jessa was hanging all over Chad, tilting her head back as she laughed at every word he said.

“If you’re okay,” Dax said, taking her hand, “then come dance with me.”

“Oh, no,” Alyssa said, “I couldn’t possibly – ”

But he was pulling her through the crowd, and everyone was staring at them. Well, him. Alyssa assumed they were staring at him, not her, since no one knew who she was. She didn’t want to dance, but she didn’t want to seem lame. And she could hear Isobel’s voice in her head, telling her that she needed to get close to the team, to make them trust her. Of course, Alyssa didn’t know how she could do that while still writing the truth, but she guessed she’d have to figure out how to strike some kind of happy medium.

So she danced. And drank wine. And danced. And dank more wine.

And by the time she got home at two in the morning, she still hadn’t written her column.

***

Jay’s cell phone rang at six the next morning, and he rolled over and saw it was Steve, his agent. Jay groaned. Agents were never out of bed before ten in the morning, and if they were, it was because something horrible was happening.

“Hello, Steve,” Jay chirped into the phone, even though he felt like being anything but chirpy. “How are you this fine morning? Me, I’m fine, thanks for asking. Just enjoying a lovely cappuccino at an outside café. The birds are singing, and – ”

“Save it, Havens,” Steve said. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”

Jay sighed and settled back into the pillows, deciding the best way to handle this was to just take his beating. It usually seemed to work. Like when he’d married that stripper in Vegas. Steve had had a fucking coronary over that one. Jay grinned at the memory.

“So what’s going on?” Jay asked.

“What’s going on?” Steve repeated. “What’s going on is that Billingsley read what that reporter wrote about you, and he’s not happy.”

Oh. Jay relaxed. “Is that all?”

“Is that
all?
That’s a really big fucking deal, Havens. The only reason Billingsley even let that girl hang with the team was because he needed to do some damage control. Unfortunately, you’re creating even more damage.”

Jay sighed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll fix it.”

“Fix it! How do you plan on fixing it?”

“I’ll go find her, I’ll hang out with her, I’ll change her mind.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Well, you better do something. They’re not going to renew your contract, Jay. Definitely not for the money you want, and maybe not at all.”

“Don’t worry,” Jay said. “I’m handling it.” He hung up the phone.

He showered, changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and then headed out of his apartment and toward Alyssa’s hotel. The city was quiet at this time of the morning, and Jay moved through the street quickly, stopping off at the bodega on the corner to grab two coffees and a bag of freshly baked muffins. It was only when he was a couple blocks away from Alyssa’s hotel that he saw it.