Bush League: New Adult Sports Romance (13 page)

                                                        Beau

                                                       
*****

Quinn guides me to the window facing the back of the house, as quickly as she can, running in just her underwear. She doesn't offer tips or guidance only an insistence that I get out as fast as possible. Risking injury, I'm forced to climb out of Quinn's window and lower myself down, extra careful not to fall or be noticed. Thankfully I'm able to find tiny rests for my feet and I'm on the ground before I know it but nowhere near home free. I dart towards the woods behind her house and the big, wooden fence, scrambling for an exit that will get me far, far away from Coach's sight. I maneuver between trees behind some other peoples' houses and try to determine when I can emerge back onto the road. When I finally decide to escape the woods, I sprint between two cream colored homes and am quickly aware of the inconvenience of a cul-de-sac. Not only have I only managed to get only about two houses away but now I have no choice but to pass Coach's house again. A deep breath and I prepare to run past speedily, as hidden as possible. Unable to help myself, my eyes stay trained on her bedroom window, hoping I can catch a quick glimpse of the beautiful girl from the street.

"Tillman?" I hear someone say and instantly know who has spotted me. When my gaze lowers, I see a confused Coach standing there in his driveway. My shirt is off and I'm covered in sweat so my cover isn't exactly blown but I start preparing the excuses to be sure.

"Heya Coach, just out for a jog, that's all," I tell his skeptical face.

"Kind of far from campus, don't ya think?"

"Yeah, I guess my mind kind of wandered and I didn't realize how far I had gone. Good practice this morning," I attempt to change up our conversation. Coach returns to getting something out of his car, apparently satisfied that my lies were the truth. I should just start running towards my car but for whatever reason, I stay in front of him. We're only feet from the house where I had his daughter pinned up against the wall just moments ago, with her begging me to give her what she wants so badly. Had he arrived only a few minutes later, I don't know that I would've been able to pull myself out of his daughter to escape in time.

"Beau, listen," he says and I know I'm about to get a talking to. "Obviously since you closed game three, you're not gonna be able to start game four."

What he was saying isn't surprising information but that doesn't mean it's welcome. If I am to leave college and enter the pros, I would like my last memory to be of winning a game for my team, show the school one last time what I've done for them. It's not my choice though and I have to prove that everything I said about putting the team first is true. I let Coach know I understand.

"Good. Who knows, if there's a game five maybe we'll need ya. Anyway, just make sure to be dressed and on the bench when the game starts tomorrow or else I won't be able to use you again."

Coach goes back to fussing with something in his backseat and actually turns to me for some help. Though I toy with the idea of entering Quinn's house with her father and making her twist uncomfortably, I ultimately decide against it.

"Sorry," I say though I'm anything but, "I really have to get going, I'm really trying to stop being late to stuff."

Coach looks annoyed but he doesn't press the issue. I offer a wave and head off to my car, crisis averted.

*****

With practice having ended hours ago,no game scheduled and Quinn otherwise occupied, I find some rare free time on my hands. As if he knows this, my father starts to blow up my cellphone with demands I meet him at his house. He's not as easy to brush off as everything else in my life so I'm stuck. Dreading it completely, I drive over as instructed and arrive to find him pouring himself over some papers.

"Come in, sit," he says without even looking up. I take a seat in front of his desk and feel as though I've been summoned to the principal's office to talk about my future. Dad even dresses like a school official, tucked in shirt and tie even though he's at home.

"Listen, the phone has been ringing off the hook since your last appearance. I take it it went well?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, they had me come in from the bullpen and I saved the game. You shoulda been there," I say, hoping some guilt will find him but he easily deflects it.

"Hope you had fun, it's time for you to get serious about your playing career." He focuses on the papers and doesn't even look up at me when he speaks. "A few scouts have given you excellent reports and more than a few teams are interested in drafting you. You're not going to believe what I'm gonna tell you next," he says and his eyes get big. I don't respond with anything other than turning my head slightly and directing it towards him.

"The biggest team you can imagine, I'll give you a hint...the team from New York, the big one, they want an off the books meeting to get a feel for you. See if they're sure they want to draft you."

I'm taken aback, I never believed I'd get attention this early from such a big team. All of my dreams are now within reach and entirely possible. Though he bothers me quite often, I really have to hand it to my father here; his dedication to my future has really paid off.

"Are you serious? That's amazing!"

"I know they'll be impressed by you. You got a suit? Make sure it's pressed so you look good tomorrow," he says.

I'm still high off of the news that his follow up doesn't immediately register. I ask him to repeat himself before I fall back down to reality.

"We're going to meet them at a hotel downtown tomorrow." Dad misreads the concern on my face. "Don't worry, you'll do great. As your agent, I'll do most of the talking and we'll be all set. This is the big time, son."

I have to speak up now or never. "Game four of the championship is tomorrow. My team needs me."

Dad's face drops from ecstatic to deadly serious. "Not this shit again," he says. "You have got to get serious about your future. That college team has served its purpose and you've been scouted. It's time to move on. They're barely even using you, they put you in the bullpen for chrissakes. This is New York we're talking about."

I stand up from my seat in an effort to show I'm serious. "They need me and I said I'd support them no matter what. They've always been there for me."

"Then don't let them drag you down. You're not blowing our future because of some silly game. Get your head straight before tomorrow's meeting."

Father returns to his papers as if I'd suddenly disappeared. I have no idea how I'm going to explain my absence to my team, to Coach.

...to Quinn.

I send her a text because I need somebody to talk me through this but, in a move she's absolutely entitled to make, Quinn ignores my message leaving me to face this problem on my own.

*****

Quinn

*****

Beau had once again got me all hot and bothered when I swore he wouldn't. With him escaping from my house at the last possible second, I can only assume he found safety and would not be bothering me since my father had come home. This precious time would best be used for cramming some more for tomorrow's test. I figure if I can stay on track and really focus, the exam that accounts for such a large portion of my grade and future will be a breeze.

Inspiration hits and a locate my phone to silence it, best not having it as another distraction. Almost on cue, the moment my finger goes to slide across the screen and turn it off, it starts to vibrate. It shows that it's Becca calling. She always texts so I realize this must be very important and allow myself to take just this one phone call.

"Hey...," I say, secretly happy to engage in anything that doesn't have to do with math or boys.

Becca launches into her spiel almost immediately. "Hi Quinn, real quick, big news," she says, almost out of breath. "Remember how I told you I have a cousin that works on American Superstar?"

Before responding, my memory jogs to try and recall if we'd ever had this conversation. I kind of remember her saying something but it's not immediately clear. I'd never paid much attention to the tv show, it's a lot of work and chances of winning the lottery are probably better than even being on this particular show. It's a popularity contest, so I'd never given it too much thought. My silence encourages Becca to keep explaining.

"Well, he emailed me and said they really need more contestants for the next season. The producers really want to find female singer-songwriters. He said the auditions here won't be advertised so there won't be a huge crowd of people auditioning BUT, if I tell him you're my friend, you're practically guaranteed to be able to audition for the celebrity coaches!"

It's a lot of information to process. Would I want to try for a spot on the show? Did I think I was good enough to risk the humiliation? What if they put me on tv for trying out but only end up making me a laughingstock? What would my father say if it was all a whole bunch of wasted time?

"C'mon Quinn, you know you're good enough," Becca continues. "I have full faith that they'll love you, I really do."

Though still not completely swayed, I need more information.

"When is it?"

"They'll be at a hotel downtown, I'll get you the info." Becca needs me to repeat my question. "Oh, sorry. It's tomorrow afternoon."

While I wasn't completely set on auditioning, I'm heartbroken to learn that I can't even if I want to.

"Shit, my big test is tomorrow afternoon. It's gonna take a few hours," I tell her.

"Fuck your test," she screams into the phone, "This is American Superstar. If you win, you'll never have to take another test ever again. Hell, even if you just get picked for the show, you're set for life!"

Fantasies play in my mind of what actually getting picked for the show could do for me. My dreams would be within reach, my life changed forever.

"Becca, I can't..." I start to say but she doesn't let me finish.

"I'm going to send you the info. Please, please, please think it over. They'd be really lucky to have you."

When Becca hangs up, I'm dreading her email because I'll be forced to make a definitive decision. Though I'm pretty determined to take the test and not flunk out of school, the lure of super-stardom is proving to be too much to shake.

"Knock, knock," I hear suddenly and when I look up, my father is standing in my doorway. For all the time I had been home, there hasn't been one occasion where he's come up to my room. Something's up and my heart starts to race thinking that he found out about Beau.

"Hey Dad, what's up?"

Instead of answering right away, Dad comes over and sits next to me on my bed, worrying me even more. He doesn't look angry but there's definitely something on his mind that he needs to get out.

"How are your classes going?" he asks while studying the skin on the back of his hand.

"Good, I think," I say, telling the truth. He turns his attention and himself towards me, reaching out to brush my hair back behind my ear, something he hasn't done since I was a little girl.

"Listen," he says, "I know I've been hard on you and I'm sorry. I know you're still young but," he looks away again and has me concerned, "You getting the proper education is very important. When your mother got sick, she made me promise that I'd make sure you got an education, no matter what. You'll be so thankful one day and once you have a successful career, then you can do all the singing you want."

There's tears welling up in both of our eyes and words aren't easy to form or get out. Breathing through my nose becomes difficult as the runoff from emotions fills my nostrils.

"I know Dad, it's just, I'm not sure if..." I stutter out.

"Just get the diploma, Quinnie," he says with his face softening into a shape I've never seen before. "Just get the diploma and everything will be fine."

Before either of us can see the other cry, he gets up from my bed, kisses my forehead and walks to the door. This is the most emotional moment the two of us had ever shared and he's careful to cut it off before it gets too intense.

"I don't have a practice or game tonight, you wanna grab dinner?" he asks and my heart almost explodes into a pile of conflicted pieces. Knowing full well I'll be able to study if I give him something to do, I can't resist the opportunity.

"Actually," I say in a voice that I know will get his attention. "My car hasn't been starting. Would you mind taking a look?"

He lights up, happy to help his girl in her time of need. Dad explains that he has a mechanic friend who he can have take a look at it. From the look on his face, this is better than the two of us sitting through an awkward dinner.

"Great. If you don't mind, I'm going to take a cab over to the library to study. Can I get a raincheck on dinner?"

Dad offers the use of his car several times but I refuse, it's too big. He gives me a big hug before telling me that he's proud of me and that he knows I'll ace my test. He's happy to have something to do and says he'll take my car over right away.

"Where you going?" the cab driver asks when I pile into his car. The address for the library is in my head and ready to come out of my mouth but I pause. Playing on his radio is a woman with a stunning voice singing a song that seems to hit me in all of my emotional places. Maybe I have a heightened sensitivity because of what had just transpired in the house but there's something about this woman's song that speaks to me.

"Can you drive me out to Far Harbor?" I ask and the driver nods into the rearview mirror.

*****