Chapter Three
The stadium wasquiet with the team traveling this week. The business of baseball carried on behind the scenes, just past the door to the conference room where Jason and his agent, Scott, sat. Jason’s pulse pounded in his ears, choking the silence. He sat, poised on the edge of his seat, muscles rigid, gaze fixed on an unseen point outside the conference room window, the fetid scent of desperation in the air. Scott sat beside him as he had during Jason’s sharp nosedive to baseball’s blacklist. If this deal didn’t happen, Jason would be forced to retire. No ceremonies. No fanfare. No fans.
His chest felt hollow at the thought. What would he do if no one wanted him, if this contract didn’t pan out? Go home, wherever that was, and do what? He’d been sitting on his ass for the past several months, with one goal– to get a new contract. Now, if he didn’t get it, what was next? What was life after baseball?
The conference room was designed to impress, containing pictures of players diving, sliding, and pitching. One picture showed the team shareholders gathered around the strong-willed and heavily involved Seamus Callahan. The rags-to-riches controlling team owner had steamrolled his way into baseball with his wife’s money and his bravado.
The team finally had a winning season and the old man was in his glory. But, as quickly as they had risen, the team had also plummeted, all due to the usual suspects– injuries, fatigue, and lack of leadership were slowly killing their chances. That was where Jason came in, or so he hoped.
Seamus Callahan sat at the head of the table. A single life-sized picture of himself dominated the wall behind the head of the table, his scowl and glare, both in the picture and on his craggy face, demanded, “Succeed or get out.”
Got ego? Jason snorted, then smiled when Scott turned and glared at him like a child caught screwing around in church.
Scott leaned over, speaking under his breath. “If you want to play baseball this year, or ever again, behave yourself. The Knights may not be your first choice, but they’re your only choice. Seamus is very prickly and proud. Don’t piss him off.”
“Must be the size,” Jason muttered gazing down at Seamus who was obviously shorter than most people in the room. Such a stereotype.
Scott frowned but, before he could say anything, the door opened and a tall blonde woman rushed into the room, a whirlwind of activity and a welcome change to the stuffy atmosphere. Jason automatically stood. His mother had ingrained that into him and he had kept up the habit. Helped get women every time. Not that he needed any help, well, not until the shoulder injury. Since then, he’d been in a dry spell, and hadn’t really noticed until last night.
Scott dug his elbow into Jason’s thigh, shaking him out of his thoughts. Everyone was staring at him, Seamus and his general manager, Cole Hammonds, were scowling, while the woman had a blinding smile on her face and something else in her eyes– gratitude? Amusement? He wasn’t sure. The time away from women had addled his brain and screwed with his instincts.
He sat down abruptly and laughed. “My mother always insisted I stand when a lady came in the room. Can’t seem to shake the habit. My apologies.”
Seamus’s scowl subsided slightly, although he still stared at Jason suspiciously. Cole frowned at the woman instead of Jason, until she sat down. For her part, her smile faded and she slipped into a seat across from Jason, and looked down at the papers in front of her.
“That’s my daughter, Miranda. She’s learning the ropes before I die so she can take over, unless she marries suitably and he can run the team. But for now, it’s all her. And she’s off limits, Friar. Got it?”
Jason gave a quick jerk of his head acknowledging the warning. He could have soothed old man Callahan’s mind. He wasn’t interested in her any more than she was interested in him. A lifetime of studying women had taught him how to quickly gauge interest and she didn’t have it. It was clear that Seamus was interested in partnering his GM with his daughter, yet the two people involved seemed to have no interest in each other. No, Jason said none of that and settled for a quick nod of his head.
Scott heaved a sigh of relief, barely audible to anyone else, and Jason realized how much Scott was counting on this contract. He knew the situation was bad but hadn’t thought about the impact on his agent, so wrapped up in his own little world, population one. Damn, he was happier when it was population one but now there was a second person he always forgot about, someone who relied on him for their livelihood. And Scott’s youngest daughter had some health issues so he couldn’t afford to spend his time on losers and players who weren’t making money. The fact that he had stuck with Jason this long was commendable. And made Jason feel like a class-A ass.
The least he could do was be an adult and professional about this.
Seamus shuffled papers in front of him and frowned over the top of them. “You’re a goddamn mess, boy. No wonder my scouts were so against you. Drinking, partying, womanizing. Ha.”
Jason jumped at the sudden bark of laughter. At least everyone else jumped too. Where was he going with this?
Scott cleared his throat and started to speak, but Callahan held up a hand and continued talking.
“On the other hand, very impressive batting average, home run totals, RBIs, even a Gold Glove. Not bad. On the hall of fame track, in fact. Until you screwed the pooch. Steroids?” Seamus arched a bushy white eyebrow at him, his craggy face scowling as if the word itself tasted like poison.
Rage exploded throughout Jason’s body, hot and liquid. The room tilted around him. He surged to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. “That’s bullshit. I never used drugs of any sort.”
Cole shot to his feet, faster than he expected a suit to move. “Back off, Friar. Told you this was a bad idea, Mr. Callahan.”
Scott placed a hand on Jason’s arm, reminding him of the importance of calm, rational thought and action, pulling him back from another huge mistake, one from which he might never recover. Jason slowly sunk back in his seat, fighting to regain his composure.
“I’ve denied those charges and even filed a lawsuit against the league. They have no proof, no positive tests, no admission.”
“Just one of your teammates accusing you of using and providing him with performance-enhancing drugs.”
A slow heat burned his face, pulse throbbing in his temples. He clenched his fists under the table in a vain attempt to control the rage. When he spoke, his voice was even but a thread of the hidden anger ran through the words. “He was saving his own ass by turning on everyone else.”
“So you turned on him first. Is that the kind of teammate you are, turning on your fellow players? Must make for an uncomfortable clubhouse.” Cole spoke for the first time from Callahan’s side, his tone mild but the rebuke and distaste was obvious.
Jason shrugged. “He betrayed me first and lied about it. What kind of teammate is that?”
“Irrelevant. He got banned for life from baseball while you rode into the sunset on your white horse.”