Night Games (16 page)

Chapter Twenty

Chase

“Where to, boss?” Noah is awfully chipper for someone who just had a world-famous supermodel go nuclear on his ass.

The photographers are thumping their lenses against the windows as Grey and I huddle in the back seat after making a mad dash from the sidewalk. The situation is definitely escalating. The police have arrived, trying to break up the crowd that seems to be growing by the minute. It doesn’t take long for word to spread about my whereabouts on social media. Once I’m spotted, my location is retweeted and hashtagged from one fan to the next. Those who live and work in the city tend to make quite a game out of it. One blogger even named her site “Let’s chase Chase!” like stalking me is some kind of sick scavenger hunt.

“I was on the phone with my agent when you called. I hung up on him when I saw it was you, but he said that the Kings have been trying to get in touch with me all morning. So I better check in with them and see what they want.” I scroll through my list of contacts, thumbing down to Terry’s number.

“You want me to head uptown until you figure out where we’re going? Because we can’t stay here.” Noah’s eyes meet mine through the rearview mirror, and I nod, realizing how fast I’m losing a handle on the situation. Noah hits the gas and pulls away from the curb with a flourish as Grey and I are thrown against the backseat. One thing about Noah—he’s a man of action.

“What do you think the Kings want?” Grey asks, hastily fastening her seatbelt as Noah merges into traffic and battles the never-ending stream of taxicabs.

“Nothing good, I’m sure,” I mutter, holding my breath while hitting the call button.

“Do you think it has something to do with me?” Grey’s eyes are troubled, begging me to tell her the truth.

I decide to be up front with her as the phone starts to ring. “It could be.”

“Shit.” She turns away, clutching her stomach like she’s going to be sick.

“Don’t worry. We’ll handle it together.” I slip my hand into hers. Whatever the Kings have to say, it’s not going to change how I feel about her.

“Chase, is that you, buddy?” Great. Terry’s being all friendly and casual, no doubt trying to butter me up for some reason. He’s not using his authoritative GM voice with me. Not yet anyway.

“Yeah, it’s me. Steve said you wanted to talk?” I grip the headrest of Noah’s seat as he brakes suddenly to avoid a guy swerving in the bike lane.

“There’s a lot we need to discuss. Maybe it’d be better if we did it in person. Do you think you could come up to the stadium? Dr. Brownstein is here with me now.”

Fuck. Terry knows. It was only a matter of time, but I didn’t think he’d start grilling Brownstein so soon. The doc probably couldn’t hold out when faced with having to answer to the big shots who pay my medical bills. Screw patient confidentiality—he must’ve cracked under the pressure. But I can’t fault the guy too much. At least he bought me a few hours to come up with a strategy.

“I don’t see why not.” I’m evasive in order to feel Terry out.

“Great. And while you’re here, it’d probably be good if we discussed how we’re going to handle the stripper situation.” Terry slid that right in there. Sure, he’s jockeying for position, but the move was almost too smooth. Like he was letting me off the hook before revealing the real reason he was reaching out to me. Has he known this whole time about Grey? Were his little spies following me around in Stockton? God only knows what he’d sink to when it comes to gaining the upper hand. There aren’t going to be any contract talks at the end of the season anyway. Didn’t Dr. Brownstein tell him? I’m done.

“What stripper situation?” I play dumb. Maybe he’s just talking about The Blue Room rumor. But I can’t help clenching my jaw when Grey’s head whips around in alarm.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Chase. C’mon, she’s with you now, isn’t she?” Terry sounds so smug. I want to beat his face in. And I’m not usually a violent guy.

“And how do you know that?” My eyes shoot to the back of Noah’s head. Has he been playing me all along?

“Chase, I’ve been receiving emails about you all morning. You’ve got to get a handle on the women in your life. This is unacceptable and you know it. We pride ourselves on running a professional organization. But a supermodel throwing a tantrum in the airport? Getting caught with a stripper the morning after? Like I said, I don’t want to hash this out over the phone. We’ll talk more when you get here.”

Terry’s on the warpath. He’s had his fill cleaning up Drake’s messes and now he thinks he’s going to have to deal with my shit too. And what kills me is that I’ve always been so careful about keeping my private life private, and within a matter of hours, I’ve become the poster boy for bad behavior. I was afraid something like this was going to happen, and now it has.

“All right, I’m heading uptown. Depending on traffic, I’ll be there within the hour.” I massage my temple, in the hope of staving off the massive headache I feel coming on.

“See you then,” Terry says crisply before ending the call. Ever the businessman. I can picture him straightening his tie as he tells the managing partners that I’m on my way.

I could very well be walking into a bloodbath. I shouldn’t enter the fray alone. I should at least have Steve with me, but there isn’t time. I need the muscle of the team’s PR department to help me diffuse this story about Grey. Her mom can’t find out. Not until I can get her back to Stockton so she can tell her herself.

Grey’s knee is bouncing up and down like she’s tapping out a distress call in Morse code. She needs to relax. I’ve got this. I’ve gone through many crisis management sessions before. A lot of girls over the years have tried to blackmail me for money, saying I fathered their illegitimate child or that I’m a freak in the bedroom. They’ve all been handled and dealt with appropriately. Sure, Grey’s story seems to be springing more leaks than the Titanic, but if we can track down the source, maybe we can shut the person up. All it takes is a little persuasion, and the Kings have the money and the influence to do it. They don’t want their bottom line damaged, and I’m the face of the team. They’re not going to let me take the fall because, let’s face it, they can’t.

“It’s out there then?” Grey asks, fidgeting with one of her earrings.

I place my hand on her knee to get her to stop shaking. “I’m afraid so.”

“How?”

“That’s what I have to find out.”

“Videos, pictures?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh God.” She rests her hand on top of mine.

“Shhh…” I flick my eyes toward Noah, warning her not to say too much.

“You think…?” she whispers, the idea of his betrayal taking hold.

“I’m not sure.”

But if Noah is the source, God help him. I’m going to tear him limb from limb for hurting Grey like this. If an image or a video of her topless goes viral, there will be little I can do to stop it. Shit like that lives forever on the internet. It’ll be like trying to stop the rain from falling when it comes to removing it completely. If we shut down one site, another one will pop up in its place. The key is containing it before it’s released—if such damning proof of Grey’s time at The Blue Room even exists. We’re jumping to conclusions because we don’t know what’s out there. But if some prick does come forward looking to extort me, the Kings will be all over him. And I’ll have no qualms about throwing Noah to the wolves if it turns out to be him.

We’re already driving under the subway tracks that lead to Kings Stadium. I gotta act fast. Maybe Grey can aid her own cause. I pull out my phone and quickly type a message, showing it to Grey.

Find out what you can. Grill him a little. Don’t let him out of your sight.

She nods in understanding as Noah parks before the entrance designated for the front office staff.

“Is this where you want me to drop you off, dude?” Noah asks, turning down the hip hop station he was listening to.

“Perfect. For not being all that familiar with the city, you sure know your way around New York.”

“GPS, man. Stuff of legend.”

“Grey’s gonna wait with you in the car while I go inside. I don’t know how long I’m gonna be. Just sit tight until I get back, all right?”

“You got it, boss.”

“Take care of my girl, Noah.”

“Of course, dude.”

Noah seems so sincere that I want to believe him, but I’m just not sure. He’s the only viable link between the Kings, Grey, and The Blue Room. It’s too much of a coincidence for him to be simply an innocent party in all of this.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I pull Grey into me, kissing her on the top of her head, allowing myself a minute to run my hands through her hair and compose myself before entering the lion’s den. I won’t fail her. I can’t.

“Give’em hell.” She strokes the side of my face, gazing into my eyes, believing that I have the power to make everything right again.

I just hope I still do.

***

Terry’s secretary greets me as soon as I step off the elevator. “Mr. Whitfield, they’re expecting you.”

“Thanks, Rhonda. Full house?” She’s always had my back in the past, ever since I was eighteen. I don’t expect her to stop now.

“They’re all in there. Even Arnold.” She drums her manicured nails on a stack of manila folders, sitting on her desk.

“Great.” I haven’t seen the principal owner of the Kings in months. After he suffered a stroke at his house in the Hamptons last summer, he’s kept a low profile since his speech is garbled and he’s partially paralyzed on one side, confining him to a wheelchair. He was my biggest advocate when I was coming up through the farm system, refusing to trade me away because he believed in my potential. He’s a tough old bird, but he saw how hard I was willing to work and rightly predicted the successful future I was going to have with his team. Nobody loves the Kings more than Arnold Heimlich—no one.

“How’s your knee? It doesn’t look like you’re walking too well on it.” So far, Rhonda’s the only member of the Kings organization who has inquired after my health today. It’s nice to know that someone still cares, that I haven’t been completely written off.

“I’m not gonna lie. It’s sore.”

“Well, you take care of yourself because my whole family’s coming to a game in September and we’re all expecting you to be there.”

“No pressure or anything.”

“Honey, if the team keeps playing the way it is now, we’re gonna need you in the lineup. It’s going to come down to the wire with Boston. If we don’t make the playoffs. Heads will roll.”

Yeah, mine included,
I think. But I don’t tell her that. I used to thrive under the weight of so much expectation. The Kings are supposed to win it all, every year, without fail. I was a born competitor, ready to devour the opposing teams one by one as we raced our way to the playoffs. But since my rookie year, it’s gotten a little bit harder with each passing season. Guys are getting older. Some have retired. Others are about to. That core unit we had for so long is slowly breaking down. The free agents and Minor League prospects just aren’t performing at the level everyone’s accustomed to. No team can go on winning forever. Whether management wants to admit it or not, we’re already in the rebuilding years. If I have to walk away, I’ll be taking a lot of the magic of that success with me. It all seemed to start when I joined the team, and I’d hate to have it end now just because I’m being forced to walk away. New York fans deserve more.

“Well, no one could ever replace you, Rhonda. You’re one of a kind.” I give her a wink as she hits the intercom button.

“Mr. Bloom, Mr. Whitfield is here to see you.”

“Good, Rhonda. Send him in.”

“Good luck, sweetheart,” she says, well aware of the gravity of the situation I’m about to face.

“Thanks, Rhonda. I’m gonna need it.” I take a deep breath as she gives me a sad smile. She knows it’s the beginning of the end. She’s just too polite to say it.

Yanking open the heavy double doors, I step over the Kings logo emblazoned on the doormat, ready to meet my fate. This is happening a lot sooner than I anticipated, but maybe it’s better to know where I stand. I tossed and turned all night, speculating over my future. At least now I might have some answers, even if I won’t particularly like what I’m about to hear.

Terry jumps to his feet the minute I enter the room. “There he is.”

There’s only one empty seat at the top of the conference table—next to Arnold who’s at the head, his personal nurse at his side. Despite my intention to play it cool, I halt when I see Arnold. He’s a shell of the man he used to be. He was always a big guy with broad shoulders and an intimidating presence, but now he’s nothing more than skin and bones with a line of drool running down his chin that his nurse is dabbing at with a cloth. The shock of seeing him like this floors me. I wasn’t expecting his condition to have deteriorated so rapidly. The Kings have really kept it hidden.

“Aaaay-se,” he drawls, beckoning me forward with his good hand.

I smile at him as I make my approach. It hurts to see one of my biggest supporters in such bad shape. But he’s still here fighting for me, so I take it as a good sign. He didn’t have to come, but he’s here. He’s not going to let Terry ace me out of the picture. He’s going to have a say in the matter, even if it’s the last order of business he conducts with the team.

“Mr. Heimlich, I didn’t expect you to be here. It’s good to see you, sir.” I know enough not to kneel down beside him. He wouldn’t want any attention drawn to the fact that he’s in a wheelchair. He’d run me over with it first. He’s a very prideful man. Maybe that’s why we get along so well.

It’s hard for him to talk, so he just extends his hand and I take it. It feels bony and cold in my grip, like shaking hands with a chain-link fence. He must see how much his condition is affecting me because he holds on to me, his gnarled fingers surprisingly strong.

Even Terry seems shaken up over our exchange, momentarily stunned into silence as he watches us. This has to be hard for him too. It’s the end of an era. The team he put together for his boss is disbanding, never again to be what it once was. All of the phone calls and meetings have all boiled down to this—their star shortstop being shown the door.