Curveball (3 page)

“Look, I’m here as a personal favor to Roger Aiken and frankly, this is a little awkward
so please help me here, Dr. Lin. I’m sure something can be worked out.”

Translation: Who should we make the check out to?

The dean tapped her fingers on the desk, staring at Paige while she considered Cat’s
plea. She took several seconds before finally speaking. “Fillmore University is more
than grateful for Roger Aiken Field and his most recent donation to help renovate
the stands, but even we have our limits. I’m afraid we can’t risk any more of these
stunts. Tell your boss I’m sorry.”

Paige ripped Cat’s hand off her forearm and sat up in her chair. Suddenly the conversation
had ceased to bore her. “Wait a minute. What are you saying?”

“We can’t continue this cycle, Ms. Aiken. We’re out of options. I have no choice but
to expel you.”

Cat had front row seats in Roger Aiken’s doorway as the match began. She was surprised
Aimee’s chair wasn’t still spinning, given the way the short brunette assistant had
leapt to her feet and scurried out of the office the second Paige had stormed through.

“Daddy! I swear, I didn’t know they’d be so mad. It was just a prank.”

She cringed. Paige had cranked the stereo up on the drive back to the stadium but
even the customized Naim system was no match for these decibels.

“A prank?” Roger paced the length of the small office so fast his pinstriped suit
began to look like a walking barcode. “Short-sheeting your roommate’s bed is a prank.
Calling the grocery store for Prince Albert in a can is a prank. What you did was
vandalism, a crime.” He stopped just long enough to wag his finger in her face. “We’re
lucky they didn’t press charges.”

“Please, you can’t vandalize what you practically own.” Paige walked across the room
and threw herself lengthwise on the mahogany leather sofa. She pulled her cell phone
out of her cargo pocket. “As soon as I tell all the Alphas about this, they’ll be
reminding the mean dean of how much money the college is going to lose if Paige Aiken
isn’t there.”

Cat mentally shook her head. Paige was a lot of things, but unique wasn’t one of them.
Cat was sure there was a preparatory school somewhere in America with another selfish,
entitled rich brat just waiting to graduate and take Paige’s place at Fillmore University.

“Paige Robinson Aiken, I don’t know what to do with you. I hope this stupid stunt
was worth your winter break internship.”

“My winternship?”

Cat readied to plug her ears once the shrieking resumed but Paige calmly rolled her
eyes instead. “Daddy, come on.” She sat up on the couch and tossed her phone to the
side. “You’re not going to let them expel me. I just finished my fall finals. Are
you going to tell me all that studying was for nothing?”

He didn’t hop on that either.

What good is having front row seats if all I get to see are pulled punches?

“How’d you do on the finals?”

“Good.” She was back on her cell phone.

“Paige, don’t lie to me.”

She shrugged, not bothering to look up. “I’m sure I passed them all.”

“I hope.” The sad eyes in his bleak expression begged to differ. “You’re going on
year six and you are neither a doctor nor a lawyer.”

She ignored him. “I’m sure Dean Lin will get over this before next semester if you
just make a little bitty donation.”

He sighed. “Fill U’s Roger Aiken Field just became Roger Aiken Stadium.”

Paige clapped her hands over the phone. “So I still get to party in Santo Domingo?”

He silenced her with a warning look. “Your scouting internship is still on.”

Paige jumped off the couch and rushed her father, wrapping her arms around him. “Thank
you, daddy.” She pulled back and waved the phone. “I better text the girls back and
tell them to call off the dogs.”

Cat cleared her throat from the doorway.

Roger looked up with such surprise that Cat was sure he just now remembered she was
in the room. She hoped this didn’t mean he had also forgotten the enormous favor she
had just done for him, or at least attempted to do.

“Oh, Ms. McDaniel, I am so sorry. Our interview, yes. I gave it some thought while
you were gone.”

Cat pursed her lips into a tight but forgiving smile.

“The truth is, I’m torn. I love what you did in Vegas and I think you’d be great here.”

She was scared to ask for the dreaded “but” that was sure to follow this lengthy pause.

“But the problem is I’m saddled with a staff writer who has dedicated twenty-five
years to the team.”

Cat felt her blood boiling as the last two hours flashed through her head. She bit
down on her lip, afraid that if she allowed her mouth to open, it would spout out,
“Then why didn’t you ask him to run your errands in your fat cat status symbol? Why
wasn’t he the one spending the morning making excuses for your evil spawn? Why the
hell did you make me fly twenty-two hundred miles to this tundra and stay in a Super
8?”

Roger continued, blissfully unaware that his doorway was about to spontaneously combust.
“Me, I’d choose the pretty girl who can think on her feet over the corpse that still
uses WordStar, but I can’t disrespect the guy’s loyalty to the organization by passing
him up for an outsider and a rookie. One, maybe, but not both.”

Cat gave him a single nod and felt her chin drop to her chest. Inside, she debated
the future consequences of telling off one of the few people in the league who didn’t
despise her.

“Which is why I’d like to offer you the chance to cover our Latin American training
facility this winter.”

She jerked her head back up, her plot to burn this bridge with a Molotov cocktail
instantly forgotten. “What?”

“We’ve got some current team members who work out down there, along with prospects
who we’ll be scouting all winter. We’ll fly you down, put you up in the team hotel
’til the end of the month while you write a sort of—I don’t know, just spit-balling
here—updates for the team blog. Our fans have gone two months without baseball and
a little peek into life at the Caribbean facilities might whet their appetites for
the spring. We’ll start you off at the same rate of pay, same benefits and if all
goes well down there after three weeks, this job is yours.”

Cat placed her hand on her chest and shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes works for me.”

Yes!

“Yes!” Cat didn’t even care that she sounded every bit as giddy as Paige had just
a few moments earlier.

Roger returned her grin. “Great. You’ll leave for Santo Domingo first thing Monday
morning.”

Cat felt the smile melting right off her face. “Santo—”

“Hey, Santo Domingo. That’s where I’m going too!”

Cat turned to the couch and saw Paige taking a reprieve from her cell phone to beam
cluelessly at her. Cat slowly spun back to Roger, his face purposefully somber.

You son of a—no, make that dad of a …

She wanted to make sure she perfectly comprehended the situation. Slowly enunciating
each syllable, she replied, “What a coincidence.”

Amusement passed across his face. He knew she knew and what’s more, he knew that he
had her.

“I guess so.” His brown eyes twinkled with assured authority. “Well, now you two can
keep an eye on each other.”

Cat put her hands on her hips. “Just so we’re clear, if I do my job and make sure
Paige does hers while we’re down there, I’m your new reporter in Buffalo come New
Year?”

“It’s all yours.”

Cat turned to see Paige once again. The former sorority girl was giggling at something
on the phone as her thumbs tapped away in response. Cat closed her eyes, momentarily
weighing her lack of options before giving Roger her fakest smile.

“Monday morning it is.”

Cat waited below the arrivals’ escalators for Flight 2466 from Las Vegas to Buffalo.
Benji’s plane had just landed and any minute now, he and his fellow passengers should
be clogging the stairwell. To pass the time, she checked the weather on her cell phone.
It was 65 degrees in Vegas and 36 degrees in Buffalo. Of course now she had a new
city to monitor. As she punched in Santo Domingo, her phone’s browser exploded with
pop-ups for talent agencies, no doubt the result of an Internet cache full of baseball-related
searches. Diamond Deportes offered a free baseball bat for every application. Worldwide
Baseball Talent Management screamed for attention with a comely bikini-clad Latina
sprawled atop a pitching mound. Not to be outdone by freebies or sex, International
Béisbol Talent Management promised a Major League contract or a money-back guarantee.
The pop-ups came one after another until she was forced to close the entire browser.

An influx of passengers flooded the second level. One of the escalators was shut down
for maintenance, so the other escalator and two sets of stairs were crammed with suitcases
and passengers. She scanned each cluster of weary travelers for Benji’s gorgeous face
then double-checked the flight status board to ensure that his plane had landed. A
family next to her squealed when their lost member stepped off the escalator and ran
toward them in a scene out of a Hallmark commercial. She frowned at their embrace.

Is that what I’m supposed to do?

Cat never pictured herself as a shrieking in the airport kind of girl. She was more
the zigzag around the suckers hugging so you can get the next cab kind of girl. She
backed away from their group hug and focused on the stairs instead. After a five-hour
flight, her health-conscious boyfriend would probably be looking forward to using
his legs.

Four nuns made their way down the steps; behind them was the heavenly sight she had
been looking for, wearing blue jeans and a brown t-shirt that read, “Do these protons
make my mass look big?” He gave her an exhausted smile, sticking out his tongue and
rolling his eyes.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Mail-order brides got a warmer reception at the airport. They just stood and smiled
awkwardly at each other before it occurred to Cat that he was barreled down with the
baggage of one man weekending in Buffalo and one sportswriter’s three-week wardrobe.

“Oh, let me help you.”

Benji wiggled out of the straps and stacked the carry-on bags on top of the large
suitcases. “No problem, I got it.” He pointed at the Jamba Juice across the aisle.
“Orange Carrot Karma, stat. All they had on the flight was carbonated high fructose
corn syrup.”

She nodded and pointed to a pub table in front of the stand. “You sit. I’ll fetch.”

As she brought back the two orange smoothies, she maneuvered around the suitcases
propped up against the table. “Thank you so much for my stuff. I only packed two wool
suits, my pea coat and these.” She kicked her leg out from under the table to show
him the brown leather boots.

He took a sip of the smoothie and instantly perked up. The tension melted off his
handsome face and they shared a sigh of relief.

“Better?”

“Much.” He stirred the thick liquid with the straw. “Who would’ve thought you’d be
starting Monday? In the Caribbean of all places? You couldn’t have packed for that.”

“Still, lots of boyfriend points for you. I know you’re trying to get your classes
ready for finals.”

“Happy to do it.” For the first time this morning, he finally gave her the boyish
grin that had made her fall for him five months ago. “Gives me a chance to get the
lay of the land here in good ol’ Buffalo. If I’m going to be visiting you every other
weekend come spring, I should probably know my way around.”

She held up a cautious finger. “You’re forgetting a very important caveat. I still
have to get the job and that requires trying to appease a girl who has everything.”
She sighed. “Forget getting the job, if I come out of this without a murder charge,
it will be a rousing success.”

“Everything?” He furrowed his brow with skepticism. “What does Paige Aiken have that
you don’t have?”

“Hmm, let’s see.” She counted them off on three fingers. “Money, a dad who loves her,
full and pouty lips.” She let her hand fall to the table with a thud. “She’s batting
a thousand and I’m oh for the century. Worse yet, I’m her freaking bat boy.”

He brought his own three fingers up. “One, money isn’t a scorecard of anything but
greed.”

That was a familiar line; he’d gotten it from her last freelance article about the
König trial.

“Two, your dad loves you, he just does so from an iron cell. Not to mention a grams
who adores you.”

“From a double-wide in Joliet’s skankiest trailer park.”

He ignored her and ticked off the third finger. “Three, nobody likes a pouter.” He
leaned over the table and took her chin between his thumb and index finger, studying
her with a twinkle of orneriness behind his blue eyes. “Besides, I love your lips.”

Cat returned his smile and scooted forward so that their lips might touch. The chill
from the smoothies on their tongues warmed as their mouths met for a slow kiss. For
a brief moment, the hubbub of the airport faded to oblivion. The Aiken Family was
nothing more than characters in a silly dream.

“Excuse me.”

Their embrace was interrupted when a hurried traveler bumped their table with his
rolling suitcase and continued on his way. The commotion knocked her smoothie over,
popping the top off in the process. Benji swept it up, managing to salvage half the
beverage. He threw some napkins on the puddle. Cat sat back in her chair and glared
at the thick orange liquid trickling off the table.

“I can’t believe I have to be back here in two days,” she said.

“You'll only be down there for three weeks. You’ll be home in time to drag me to Grams
for this Christmas I’ve heard so much about.”

That made her smile. Picturing her Jewish boyfriend clad in a reindeer sweater, drinking
eggnog and explaining menorahs and latkes to the seventy-year-old Ailsa McDaniel was
definitely going to be a holiday highlight. Grams was even making a dreidel in her
ceramics class that she couldn’t wait for Benji to unwrap.