Double Play (20 page)

J.D.
caught another ball and rolled it toward Simone in right field.

“Aw!”
chirped a Hawks fan. “We got a million dollar baby out here!”

Simone
ran over. “You ok, man?”

J.D.
rolled his right shoulder, attempting to loosen it up. “I’m still iced up.
Didn’t expect to start.”

“We
cannot lose today,” said Simone. “We have the home field advantage. Hawks fans
are very tough. It won’t be easy winning in St. Louis.”

J.D.
glanced behind him. “Tell me about it.”

“I
cut you a deal. Fly ball comes between us, I call it.”

“Thanks,
Simone.”

The
announcer called for the National Anthem. J.D. lined up with the rest of the Federals
and removed his hat as Billy Joel crooned out the nation’s favorite ballad. He
took in a deep breath and stared up into the lights of Federal stadium,
wondering how a kid from Kadele, Oklahoma had made it to the World Series. Faye
would be watching on her small black and white television, probably recalling
every frigid rainstorm and blistering afternoon she sat through when J.D.
played little league. The game was sure to be on every big screen at Fat
Jimmy’s, as well. No doubt the whole town was stuffed into the bar, downing
pitchers of Fat Tire and chomping on hundreds of pounds of ribs, hoping their
home town boy would make them proud. Billy hit the last high note and J.D.
headed for the outfield, determined to do just that.

The
first inning started well. After two ground outs and an infield fly, the Feds
were ready for at-bat. J.D. picked out a mid-weight Louisville Slugger and
headed to the on-deck circle. His shoulder was back to room temperature and
feeling surprisingly supple. Maybe he wasn’t swimming in deep water after all.

Simone
was first at bat. He took a swing too quickly on the first pitch and chocked up
a strike. “Relax, Simone,” the batting coach called from the dugout.

His
second swing struck leather and Simone raced to second on a stand up double.
The crowd went wild.

Franklin
approached the plate, crossing his chest in a dramatic plea to a higher power.
He spit left and sunk down into an aggressive stance. The Hawks pitcher threw a
fastball by him. Franklin tapped his cleats with the bat and looked toward the
third coach base for guidance. The second pitch was low and outside but
Franklin took the bait. “Strike two!” shouted the ump. The Federals fans grew
impatient.

Franklin
hit the third pitch toward first, an easy out for the Hawks. Simone, with a
good lead-off, advanced to third.

J.D.
sucked in a deep breath and approached the plate. All bets were against him, he
knew. The guy on the mound was Raphael Tecura, the best of the best. The fact
that J.D. was in the starting lineup was nothing short of a miracle. The fact
that the coaches had placed him at the top of the batting order was an act of
God.

He
slouched down, narrowed his eyes, and waited for the first pitch. “Ball!” shouted
the umpire.

J.D.
stepped back and regrouped. He looked toward third base and read the coach’s
sign to swing. “Maybe,” he mumbled.

He
stepped inside the batter’s box and took his position. The pitch came in fast
and low. “Strike!” called the umpire.

“Swing
your bat!” shouted a coach from the dugout.

“Maybe,”
J.D. mumbled.

The
third pitch was another ball. J.D. was getting comfortable, feeling confident.
Tecura squinted toward him and delivered the pitch he was waiting for. Crack!
J.D.’s bat hit the ball square and low, lifting it toward center field. The
Hawks centerfielder raced back toward the warning track, reached into the sky,
and caught it right before it the skimmed the top of the wall.

J.D.
turned first base and watched Simone slide across home plate. A cheer erupted
from the dugout. J.D. grinned ear to ear. All the jitters were gone. His
shoulder felt warm and comfortable. Just below the surface, he knew every game
could be his last. Right now, if this was the way it ended, he knew he’d
survive.

Eight
more innings and much of the same. The Hawks were kind, lopping balls left and
right of him, but never forcing a big play. When the ump called the game, he
strode into the locker room confident of his place on the team.

“Great
game!” said Franklin, slapping his back.

“Yeah,
maybe we’ll keep your rookie ass after all,” said Callahan.

J.D.
turned toward the showers and stopped dead in his tracks. Demarcus Robinson stood
in front of his locker, his head cocked to one side, wearing a gangsta beret
and a sneer. He was dressed in black leather and lots of silver chains. He
looked pale and a bit thinner, but showed no signs of breaking.

J.D.
took a quick glance around the locker room, searching for security and coming
up short.

“Superstar
Shaw.” Demarcus looked him up and down with obvious contempt. “Long game. Made
me impatient.” He shifted. “I don’t like feeling impatient.”

“I
thought I shot you,” said J.D., moving toward his locker.

Demarcus
stepped in front of him. He smelled like reefer and cheap laundry detergent.

“Here
I is.”

“Guess
I need to practice my aim.”

“You
owe me a half mil.”

“I
owe you an ass beating.”

“Bring
it on,” said Demarcus, standing taller. “I got men. Lots of men.” He cackled
like a crazy hyena. “You wanna sleep at night, you pay up, you hear what I’m
saying?”

“Don’t
hear a word.”  J.D. continued toward his locker, undaunted, forcing Demarcus
aside. He brushed up against hard steel. A deep rage rose to the surface, one
he couldn’t control. “You dare bring a gun into this house?” he demanded,
inches from his assailant’s face. “You dare threaten me?”

A
general hum built across the locker room and a crowd of Federals formed nearby.
“Everything ok, J.D?” asked Simone.

J.D.
rammed Demarcus up against his locker with his bad shoulder. A blast of pain
ripped through his muscles from his neck to his hip. “You stay away from me,
you hear me?” he said through clenched teeth.  “You stay away from my family!”

Demarcus
fumbled for his piece. J.D. grabbed his arm and twisted it up and behind, causing
Demarcus to cry out. He could feel the strength in his right shoulder give way.
“Somebody call security!”  he shouted.

A
rush of bodies descended upon Demarcus. Callahan reached inside Demarcus’
jacket and lifted the pistol high above the crowd. “I got the gun. Check him
for knives!”

“We
got him,” cried two security guards from behind.

J.D.
doubled over and leaned against a nearby locker. The pain in his shoulder had
returned with a vengeance.

“You
ok, J.D.?” asked Callahan.

“No,”
said J.D. through gritted teeth.  “Call Doc Smothers.”

The
drive from Chicago to New York had reached its eighteenth hour and Ty had been
awake fifteen of them. Dozing off for no more than one hour at a time, he would
wake in fits, announcing his displeasure at ten decibels. Uncle Gus was coping
with airplane regulation ear plugs. Halee’s nerves were frayed. Despite the
fact that Gus kept his truck immaculate, right now it smelled like sour milk,
McDonald’s wrappers and soiled diapers.

Gus
cracked a window. “Too much change,” he said, shifting in his seat. “Every time
he wakes up, he wonders where he is. Children need routine.”

“Do
you think he’ll recognize the New York apartment?” asked Halee. “We were only
there a few weeks.”

“Hard
to predict. We’ll know when we get there.” He glanced over at her, wrapped in a
blanket and angled sideways. “How are you holding up?”

“About
as well as Ty.” She absent-mindedly adjusted the shawl that hid the tender
wound on her neck. “I never thought I’d give up the will to fight. Right now I
just want someone to take care of me.”

“Your
young fella will be glad to hear it,” said Uncle Gus. “He’s all fired up to
play hero.”

“I
could use a little hero right now.” She took Gus’ free hand. “You’ve been quite
the hero to me over the years. Now you’re rushing in to save me one more time.”
She raised the old man’s hand to her lips and planted a kiss on the rough
knuckles. “You’ve been my rock, Uncle Gus. How will I ever thank you?”

Gus
kept his eyes on the road and his expression as neutral as possible but Halee
could tell the words affected him deeply. “You’re a constant source of joy,
Honey,” he said.

“Even
with a screaming baby in the backseat and a gang on our trail?”

Gus
laughed. “Well, we’ve had better days, for sure. I’m going to miss you, though.
Rita’s been mopey since you left.”

“Is
there something going on between her and Bobby?”

“I
hope not,” he said. “It would be some form of hell to be married to a cop. It’s
a nasty business. Every time he leaves she’d sit wondering whether she was ever
going to see him again.”

“I
wonder if Mom felt that way about Dad.”

“Probably.
A lot of firemen don’t come home either.”

“Is
that what came between them?”

Gus
sighed and shook his head. “Maybe. Your mom came from a small family back east.
She was well educated, especially for her day. Liked to dress nice, serve
dinner on china plates, go to the theatre.  Your dad was south side Chicago,
through and through. Big Irish family. Everybody was either a cop or a fireman.
He had simple tastes- big meals and a nice TV set. Your mom fell in love with
his brave spirit but she never really understood him. Thought she could tame
him but there was no taming Robert McCarthy.”

Halee
thought for a moment. “Maybe that’s what I’m trying to do, tame J.D.”

“If
you are, you’re headed for trouble. He’s a determined man. Determined about his
career and determined to have you. I can’t see him changing easily on either
front.”

 “He
might not have a choice. J.D. has some torn cartilage in his shoulder. It needs
surgery. If he injures it further, he may never play again.”

Gus
whistled. “That’s tough. What about you?”

“Me?”

“You
gonna stand by him?”

Halee
laughed. “I’ve never cared for fame or fortune. If J.D. wants to play baseball,
I won’t stand in his way. If he wants to be a rancher, that’s fine, too.”

“Got
more of your dad in ya then.”

“Guess
so.”

Several
hours later they crossed the George Washington Bridge and after navigating a
maze of Manhattan traffic they pulled up in front of Halee’s apartment
building. Gus blew out a huge breath of relief. “I never want to do that
again,” he declared.

“You
need to drive the whole way back.”

“Think
I’ll parse it out over four or five days, hit a couple casinos in the Catskills.”

Halee
laughed. “You’re going to stay in New York for a few days, aren’t you?”

“Just
until I know you’re safe.” Gus eyeballed the doorman with suspicion. “You
recognize that guy?”

“That’s
Murray,” she said, handing Ty to Gus. “He and Ty are friends. Give him your
keys and he’ll park your truck for you.”

“How
about these clowns?”

Halee
turned in time to catch Stephen in her arms. “Holy Cow, Girlfriend!” he
exclaimed. “Cam and I have been so worried about the both of you! I see you got
him back,” he said, leaning over to kiss Ty on his fat cheek. “Studly told us
the whole story.”

Halee
glanced around. “Where is J.D.? Is he alright?”

“Oh,”
said Stephen with a quick smile. “I detect a change in attitude toward our
prince charming. Is Cat Woman out of the picture?”

“Ran
off with Batman. J.D. nearly died saving Ty,” said Halee. “I’ll bet he didn’t
tell you that part.”

“Of
course not, but we’ll be glad to drag all the details out of you.”

Halee
turned toward Gus. “Stephen, Cameron, this is my Uncle Gus, the most important
man in my life.”

“Gee,
I wish someone would say that about me.” Stephen genuflected. “Thanks for
bringing our princess home.”

Halee
locked arms with Stephen. “Tell me you cooked a big meal in our honor. I’m
starving.”

“Every
pot and pan is in use, Darling. We’re going to fatten you up before we send you
back into the workforce. Follow me, King Gus,” he said, dragging one suitcase
and draping another across his lean torso. “Your palace awaits you.”

***

Two
plates of lasagna later, Halee sank into the deep cushions of her slipcovered
sectional and sipped her second glass of red wine. Ty had crashed soon after a
warm bowl of pasta and Uncle Gus was right behind him, making all kinds of
excuses about the heavy food and alcohol. After a dozen trips to the terrace to
gaze over at J.D.’s apartment, Halee had begun to wonder why the rooms across
the courtyard were still dark and whether she would see him tonight or ever
again. She’d spent most of the ride here fantasizing about their reunion. She
had so many things to thank him for, so many plans to make. She couldn’t wait
to get started.

Stephen
slapped a dish towel on the kitchen counter, grabbed a tall cocktail, and
settled in across from her.

“Dinner
was amazing, you guys,” said Halee. “I owe you big time.”

“Payback
begins now,” said Cam. “Tell us every detail of the big rescue.”

“Ask
me questions,” said Halee. “It’ll be easier.”

Stephen
kicked back and thought a moment. “Who got there first?”

“Rita
and I did,” said Halee. “Except we never really made it because I got jumped in
the bathroom at the 7 Eleven across the street.”

Cam
dropped his jaw. “Where was J.D.?”

“With
Bobby, our friend the cop. He made it just in time to send me off in the
ambulance.”

Stephen
made a visual inventory of Halee’s physical condition. “Ambulance?”

Halee
lowered her scarf and touched the red slash on her neck lightly with one finger.
“Missed anything important.”

Stephen
and Cam moved in for a closer view. “Good heavens!” cried Cam, squeezing her
hand. “Honey, you have to see a shrink. I’m looking at post traumatic stress if
I’ve ever seen it. Doctor Newton is the best. She’ll fix you right up…”

“I
lost the baby,” said Halee, breaking down in a torrent of tears. “It’s too
late. I lost her…”

 “Lordy,
lordy!” Cam slid over next to her and pulled her into an embrace. Halee rested
her head on his shoulder.

“I
nearly lost everybody. Ty, J.D., they barely made it out alive.”

“But
they’re here now, Halee,” Stephen assured her, “safe and sound.”

“Uncle
Gus says it’s not over. J.D. offered Chantrell and Demarcus a half million
dollars to give me Ty. Gus says they’ll come after us for the money.”

Stephen
glanced toward the door with a worried expression. “Who’s
they
?”

“Demarcus
and his gang.”

Cam
met Stephen’s panicked stare. “When are you going back to work, Honey?”

“Tomorrow.
Mrs. Pryor said I need to be there tomorrow first thing or she’ll fire me.”

“And
who’s watching Ty?” Cam inquired casually.

“I’m
not letting him out of my sight,” said Halee, heading to the kitchen for a
tissue. “He’s going to be strapped to my chest all day.”

Stephen
sighed audibly.

“Good
plan,” said Cam brightly.

“Can
you entertain Uncle Gus while I’m at work tomorrow?”

Stephen
frowned. “What would he like to do?”

“I
don’t know. Guy stuff.”

“Don’t
look at me,” said Cam to Stephen.

“We’ll
think of something. Oh, look. Studly just got home.”

Halee
nearly spilled her wine on the way to the terrace. She watched with a pounding
heart as one light after the other came on in J.D.’s apartment.

“I
doubt he knows you’re home,” said Stephen, coming up behind her. “Why don’t you
go over for a little visit?”

Cam
nudged him. “Gangs!” he mouthed.

“Gus
can stay with Ty, right?”

“I
suppose so,” said Halee. Her eyes were pinned on J.D.’s bedroom. She watched as
he stripped off his golf shirt and unzipped his jeans, unaware that he had an
audience.

“Jesus,”
whispered Cam. Stephen slapped his shoulder.

“Just
saying…”

“You
could call and invite him over.”

Halee
sighed. “Maybe I could leave Uncle Gus a note…”

“That
would work,” said Cam, motioning Stephen to the door. “We’ll be across the
hall. Good luck,” Stephen called, closing the door softly behind him.

Halee
spent the next few minutes pacing from one room to the next, checking on Ty and
staring across the courtyard toward J.D.’s apartment. Then she grabbed her keys
from the counter, locked the door behind her, and headed for the next building
over.

***

J.D.’s
cell phone vibrated in his back pocket on the way to the shower. He pulled it
out and frowned. Why was Dan calling him so late?

“I
got a counter offer from Hank I think you’ll like, J.D.,” said his realtor. “I
didn’t think the old man had it in him, but it looks like he’s made up his mind
to sell to you after all.”

J.D.
settled on the edge of the tub. “What’s the offer?”

“Now
hear me out before you get all fired up,” said Dan. “I know we started at five
fifty but the old man’s been all over the board, changing his mind every few
hours. Right now he’s at six fifty.”

J.D.
groaned. “That ain’t reasonable, Dan. The land’s in bad shape. Hank’s been
fighting a drought for five years.”

“It’s
still underpriced, J.D. I know what you’re thinking, but prices will go up and
when they do you’ll be sitting on a piece of land worth a cool million.”

“In
the meantime I gotta ship in feed from out of state. This ain’t a hobby farm,
Dan, it’s a working ranch. The price of the land has got to be reasonable or
I’ll lose my shirt.”

“You
want to counter?”

J.D.
rubbed his shoulder and considered. Everything was riding on him finishing the
season. If his shoulder failed him he’d have to return all the money to
Victoria Pryor, his sign-on bonus and all the salary he’d collected. Even
though his bank account held close to a million dollars, it wasn’t really his
to spend.

“Naw,”
he said with a sigh, “he can sit on it a while.”

“Well,
there’s something else I didn’t tell ya. Somebody else is bidding on the
property.”

“Who?”

“I
can’t tell you that.”

“They
got cash?”

“I
doubt it. They’d probably be working with the bank.”

“Well,
I got cash. Remind Hank of that.”

 “I
will.”

“Say
hi to everybody for me,” said J.D.

“We’re
all watching you on the big screen,” said Dan. “Makin’ us proud, J.D.”

“I’ll
wave to the camera next time,” said J.D. “Tell Fat Jimmy if I hit a homer the
drinks are on me.”

He
disconnected and stripped off the remainder of his clothes, catching his
reflection in the mirror. His already battered shoulder was now painted in a
sickening hue of purple. He should have rammed Demarcus with his left shoulder.
He should have hurt that punk bad enough to scare him away for good.

Shoulda,
coulda… didn’t make any difference now. What was done was done. Either way,
Demarcus was in jail and Halee and Ty were on their way back to New York. All
his plans were coming together and nothing was ever going to get in his way again.

He
leaned closer to the mirror and stroked his chin. He needed a shave- a shave, a
shower, and about twenty four hours of uninterrupted sleep. More than anything,
he needed to hold Halee again. But that would have to wait.

The
doorbell rang just as he was rinsing off his razor. His senses went on high alert.
Most of his friends didn’t know his new address. Tony would never drop by
without calling first. Cat was long gone. She’d packed up the bags she’d
brought with her and several more, swearing she’d never talk to him again.
Since then she’d texted once a day to tell him what a rat he was. He didn’t
expect she’d come back to New York anytime soon and if she did, she’d arrive
with a lot more fanfare.

He
slipped back into his jeans, then stepped out into the hallway leading to the
kitchen and listened. The bell rang again. Grabbing a baseball bat, he headed
for the foyer. A million images ran through his head, most of them a variation
on Demarcus and an AK47.  For all he knew, New York’s overcrowded legal system had
already spit Demarcus back out on the street with an ankle bracelet and a slap
on the wrist. From what Bobby had told him, the criminal had plenty of backup
to finish the job, even if he landed in jail for the long haul.

He
paused at the door and waited for any sign of what could be lurking outside.
His pounding heartbeat was all that he could hear. This was crazy, he told
himself. He needed to relax.