Chapter Thirteen
Jason’s head poundedand heat flooded his face as anger coursed through his body. How could Bill Monroe have followed him here? Was he never going to get rid of that man? What else would it take?
He stalked into Stacia’s office and waited for her and Cole to join him, then he slammed the door. Stacia winced, but tried to hide it under her politician facade. Cole scowled at Jason but, before he could speak, Stacia interjected. “Why don’t we sit down and you tell us what’s got you all upset, Jason?”
Adrenaline flooded his system. Sitting was out of the question, but there was no room to pace in the tiny office. He would have to settle for small steps, nothing that would rid his body of the tension. He almost bolted. He wasn’t ready for this conversation. But he had demanded it. He had to see it through. “Are you really hiring Bill Monroe as hitting coach?”
Cole arched an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how the word got out so quickly. Dan needs to take some time off, the rest of the season, to help his wife through chemo. We’re just starting discussions. We thought you’d be happy to work with your old coach and mentor. Maybe it would ease your transition.”
“Why Bill? I’ve had plenty of hitting coaches over the years. Why him?” Just when he’d thought he was getting back on track, away from the bloodsuckers, focusing on the sport again, a specter from his past, a soul-sucking leech reared its ugly head.
Cole furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure. He’s a coach at Texas A&M now, but it’s their off-season. I think he approached us. He said he’s worked with you in the off-season before.”
Jason sank into the chair next to Cole. Typical Bill Monroe. Still riding his freaking coattails. Probably angling for a major league spot. Why couldn’t he be rid of this man?
“Is something wrong, Jason?” Stacia’s quiet voice broke into his reverie.
This situation was yet another reminder of how far he had fallen. A year ago, if he had demanded they not hire Bill, Bill wouldn’t have been hired. No explanations needed. Now, he was a short-term player without any status, still proving himself. Cole Hammonds had made his position on the team perfectly clear—get the job done and shut up. To see Bill, after all he’d done, on an everyday basis, was intolerable.
He took a deep breath. “I haven’t seen or worked with Bill Monroe since high school.”
Stacia frowned. “In the interview, you implied that he was a mentor for you.”
He laughed, a short sharp bark completely devoid of mirth. “Yeah, what was I going to say? The truth? How would you have liked it if I had said what really happened? But no, I have to be the reformed player, the lapdog being nice to everyone no matter what.”
“What’s the truth then?” Cole asked cautiously and glanced at Stacia who shrugged.
“It didn’t end well. I’ve had no contact with him since I was eighteen. I’d like to keep it that way.” Fifteen years ago and he remembered the pain like it was yesterday. Remembered the betrayal. He didn’t need that shit messing up his focus now.
Cole sighed and stood. “You’ve put me in a difficult position. We already offered him the job. He’s in the locker room now.”
The room spun and Jason stared at the desk, trying to get the world around him to steady.
Stacia stood. “Cole, if he truly misrepresented himself, could we break the contract?”
“Did he? Did he misrepresent himself? I’m not hearing anything that would stop me from hiring him, unless Jason has something more to share.” Cole prodded, exasperation echoing in every word.
Jason barely heard the rest of the conversation amidst the roaring in his ears. No way was he going to tell them what Bill had done, how he had fooled everyone. He’d just have to make the best of things for another couple of months then flee as far from here as he could. Anything else he could say would just make him look like a bigger ass, a bigger fool than he already was.
“Jason? Is this going to be a problem?” Cole’s voice broke into his thoughts.
He shook his head. “No.”
Not that anyone cared. Another reminder of how far he had fallen.
*
Jason resisted thechildish urge to slam the office door and strode down the hall to the locker room, Cole following on his heels. At least Stacia stayed behind. Jason wasn’t ready to answer her multitude of questions. Not then, maybe not ever. He winced at the loud rap music echoing down the hallway. Cole eyed him with sympathy. “I can leave but you’re stuck in there. Ever feel old around these kids?”
He bit back the automatic retort.I’m not old.Then he realized, yeah, he felt pretty damn old in that locker room sometimes. He shrugged, more focused on the upcoming confrontation.
Cole put a hand on his arm, holding him back just outside the locker room. “Jason, I’ve made no secret that I didn’t agree with your signing. But you’re here and I have to deal with that.”
“Thanks, Hammonds.” Jason tried to continue, but the other man’s grip was surprisingly strong.
“You’ve seen these kids for a couple of weeks now. They’re at loose ends, no guidance, no direction. All talent, no focus. They want to win but don’t know how to handle losing. So, they just screw around.”
“Yeah, and?” Jason’s mind was still turning over the news of his new hitting coach, playing out options, figuring out a plan. He had no interest in helping Cole out with anything.