The Perfect Game

The state of Alabama welcomed me with open arms. That was the good news. The bad news was that the air there was so thick with humidity I thought I might choke. I’d never experienced heat that felt almost solid in form, hitting you in the face when you stepped outside. But the people were friendly and the city boasted that small-town feel I thought only existed in movies.

All the shifting in the Diamondbacks organization caused a group of guys on my team to lose a roommate. This worked out perfectly for me, considering I was looking for some. I moved in right away, taking not only the other guy’s room in the house, but his spot on the roster too.

I braced for resentment from the other players that would never come. Instead, I found myself playing with a group of extremely supportive guys. The competition was fierce, but this was still a team sport, no matter how you sliced it.

“Hi,” I said as Cassie picked up her phone.

“Hi, yourself,” she said back, her voice making me smile. “How are you? How’s the team?”

“I’m good. The team is insane.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone’s just really fucking good.” I sighed with contentment.

“Like better than your other team, or how?”

“Just in every way possible. It’s a whole different level of ball.”

“You expected that though, right?” Her voice suggested if I hadn’t, I should have.

“I guess I didn’t really think about it. They’re definitely better hitters and my pitches don’t intimidate them.”

“So pitch around their bats and make your pitches scary,” she suggested with a giggle.

“I’m trying, Kitten.”

“Jack, you’re an incredible pitcher. You’ll figure it out. This is all part of the process and in the end you’ll be a better player for it.”

“When’d you get so smart?”

“Probably the second you left town.” I could practically feel her eye-roll over the phone line.

“Brat.”

“I gotta go, Jack. I’m sorry but I get to sit in on a call with the New York offices! Yay!” she screamed into the phone.

“That’s great, babe. You go. I’ll talk to you later.” I chuckled, her excitement making me smile.

“Wait, Jack?” she shouted and I fumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Good luck tonight.”

“Thanks. Love you,” I said before hanging up.

*****

I took a deep breath as I kicked at the dirt mound beneath my cleats. The fans were all on their feet cheering, but I could barely hear anything above the sound of my own heart pumping adrenaline through my veins.

“You got this, Carter,” I heard my shortstop shout. I glanced at him briefly, our eyes meeting in a hopeful exchange. The cheers grew louder when I stepped onto the mound. My catcher flashed signs between his legs and I nodded in agreement, then gripped the ball in my left hand, the baseball’s string seams pressing against my fingertips. With another focused breath, I lifted my right leg into the air before delivering a piping hot fastball right down the middle.

The batter swung and I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t send that pitch into no man’s land. The sound of the ball crashing against the catcher’s glove echoed into the evening air, as the umpire screamed, “Strike three! You’re out!”

The crowd erupted into cheers and rushed the field before my teammates lifted me on top of their shoulders. Cameras flashed from all around, the quick bursts of light blinding me briefly. Hands reached out from every angle, pulling and tugging at any exposed body part. Everyone wanted a piece of me.

I had just pitched my first perfect game in Double-A ball. The feeling you get when that happens is hard to describe. It’s like an unbelievable high. I accomplished something that happens so rarely in the game of baseball. Not a single person from the other team got on base. I didn’t walk one batter. No one was hit by a pitch. Just me and my boys on our field for nine straight innings. Tonight, we’d be celebrating. And all I could think about was her.

I peeled myself away from the gaggle of fans and journalists and headed inside the locker room. “I’ll sign more after I shower,” I shouted toward the group of people wanting my autograph.

I opened my locker, grabbed my cell phone, and dialed.

“Hey, babe!” she answered, her tone excited and bubbly.

“Did you hear?”

“I watched the game online. Congratulations!” She squealed as I pulled my cell phone from my ear. “I’m so proud of you, baby!”

I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes, visualizing her gorgeous face. “God, I miss you,” I breathed out with a sigh.

“Me too. I wish I was there.” Her quiet, wistful tone tugged at my heart.

“I wish you were too. More than anything I wish you were celebrating this night with me.”

“I’m so happy for you, Jack.”

“Thanks, Kitten. I should probably go. I’ll call you later, okay?” My teammates filed out of the showers, eyeing me and pointing at their wrists.

“Have fun tonight. I love you,” she said and I grinned.

“I love you too. Night,” I replied before shutting my phone off.

*****

The local bar seemed packed to capacity by the time we sauntered in. I walked through the front door with two of my teammates and the entire bar broke out into hoots and shouting. Before I knew it, drinks and shots were being handed to me from all directions. I downed the first three shots without hesitation and held on tightly to a bottle of beer. I looked around to thank whoever sent them over, but the dim lighting made it virtually impossible to distinguish individual people in the thick crowd.

“Great game tonight, Jack,” a petite brunette remarked as she grabbed my arm.

I looked at the hand touching me before removing it and placing it at her side. “Thanks.”

Her hand wrapped around my waist. “The name’s Chrystle.”

I removed her hand again more forcefully. “I didn’t ask.”

“Figured you’d want to know,” she said, inching her body closer to mine.

“And why’s that?” I asked, laying on the bored tone I usually used to discourage groupies.

She got on her tippy toes and leaned closer. “’Cause you’ll be screaming it later,” she whispered in my ear with a smile.

“Not a chance.” I frowned and turned my back to her before wading through the crowd toward a table in the back.

I reached my excited teammates and quickly sat down. “I’m starving! Please tell me there’s food here.” My stomach growled on cue and I looked around, noticing the insane amount of tequila shots covering the tabletop.

“Hell yes, there’s food! It’s just not here yet. So drink up, man. That was a hell of a game tonight, Carter!” My first baseman, Logan, slid a shot in my direction to celebrate.

The rest of the table erupted in similar congratulations and compliments, followed by high fives and knuckle-bumps, as we all grabbed a shot and drank a toast. I looked up from the table and noticed Chrystle eyeing me from the other end of the bar. She winked at me before taking a swig of her beer.

I elbowed Logan, who’d played on this team the past two seasons. “Hey, man. Who’s that chick at the end of the bar?”

“Which chick?” he asked with a chortle.

“The little brunette staring at us over there.”

“Oh, Chrystle? She’s basically a groupie on a mission. I’d steer clear of her if I were you,” he warned before downing another shot of the amber liquid.

“Trust me. I’m trying.”

“Here. Drink these.” He slid two shots over and I downed them one after the other, wincing after I swallowed. “You’re definitely on her radar.” He pointed at Chrystle engrossed in conversation with our head coach as both sets of eyes stared in our direction.

“I don’t want to be on any chick’s radar,” I answered, my temper starting to rise.

“Well, good luck with that. She’s relentless, by the way.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” I glanced quickly toward her before looking away. The last thing I wanted this groupie to think was that I was the least bit interested in her.

Logan handed me two more shots and I drank them effortlessly the tequila no longer a shock to my system. “I really need something to eat,” I mentioned to no one in particular before noticing the basket of bread across the table.

“Can I eat this?” I asked, reaching for it.

My teammate, Vince, looked up from his cell phone. “Huh? Oh yeah, Carter, here.” He shoved the basket toward me. “Eat up, man.”

“Thanks.” I nodded before ripping apart the bread and shoving a huge piece in my mouth.

It was too late and I knew it. My attempt to put something in my stomach was feeble at best. It was too little, too late…the bread no match for the alcohol that already assaulted my system. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d drank this much.

I elbowed Logan. “Where’s the pisser?”

“What, man?” He turned to me, his eyes already showing signs of how wasted he was getting.

“The bathroom? Where?” I shouted.

“In the far corner behind the jukebox.” He pointed, his finger unsteady.

“Thanks.” I pushed away from the table and stumbled. Shit, I was already drunk. My eyes squinted toward the corner of the bar and my legs headed in that direction.

Not even ten steps in and Chrystle stood at my side. “Where you going, Jack? Can I come?”

“No.” I tried to sound as disinterested as I could muster.

“You don’t mean that.” She bit her bottom lip seductively and I suddenly noticed her tight-fitting top. She caught me staring. “You like what you see?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“I don’t believe you.” She pressed her chest against my stomach and wrapped her arms around my lower back.

“Get the fuck off me,” I shouted before shoving her away from me.

“What’s your problem, Jack? I just want to make you feel good. Help you celebrate the big game.”

“I have a girlfriend. Why don’t you go celebrate with one of my single teammates. Or have you fucked them all already?” My lips formed a snarl as I walked away, leaving her behind.

A few minutes later, I exited the bathroom, my face wet with the water I’d splashed on it to help me feel less drunk. It didn’t work. And Chrystle still stood there waiting for me.

“I forgive you,” she said with a grin before blocking my path with her petite frame.

“Who gives a shit? Get out of my way.” I stared blearily at her perfectly made-up face.

“Come home with me.”

“I’m not interested.” I shook my head, suddenly feeling woozy.

“At least let me buy you a drink?” she offered and I narrowed my eyes, unsure of her intentions. “Come on, Jack, it’s just a drink.”

I glanced toward Logan for backup, only to see him crashed face-down on the table. I laughed. “Fine. One drink.”

When we reached the bar, I watched Chrystle lean across it, trying to catch the bartender’s attention. The hem of her shirt rode up her back, revealing the tribal tattoo above her ass. I shook my head at the obvious cliché. Of course a chick like this would have a tramp stamp.

“Hey, Chase!” she shouted at the surly bartender’s back. He turned around, meeting her eyes with acknowledgement. “Two shots of whiskey.”

“No no no,” I yelled and Chase turned to eyeball me. “No more shots,” I said, my vision hazy.

“Fine. Two Jack and Cokes,” she shouted before turning to me. “How’s that?” She nudged me with her elbow.

“Better. I think,” I offered up wryly.

“You’ll be fine. Now tell me about this girlfriend of yours.” She batted her thick-coated eyelashes sweetly.

“I like to keep my private life, private,” I slurred, feeling suddenly protective of my relationship with Cassie.

Chrystle looked around the crowded room before whispering, “Well, she isn’t here, right?”

“Does it look like she’s here?” I threw one hand in the air, glancing to my side.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, and I’m not going to tell.”

“Thanks for the drink.” I grabbed the tall glass that had just appeared on the bar in front of me, before hightailing it away from her.

“Jack, wait! I was just kidding!” she shouted, but I refused to stop. That girl was trouble and I was fucking hammered enough.

I heard her footsteps racing after me as I beelined straight for Logan. “Jack, wait!” She grabbed my shirt with her free hand.

“Stop grabbing me. What the hell do you want?” I spun to face her, my head feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds as the room spun around me.

“I just want to hang out with you,” she said, her voice innocent.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re not very good at accepting the word no,” I spat, noticing the blue of her eyes.

Fuck.

This isn’t good.

I’m drunk.

And she’s hot.

“You can teach me,” she teased, a playful smile spreading across her face.

“Chrystle. Leave me the fuck alone. I’m gonna stop being nice.”

“This is you being nice?” She winked before slapping my ass and heading onto the dance floor.

I hurried to the booth and scooted in. “Keep that bitch away from me.” Logan lifted his head in a daze as I elbowed him in the ribs.

He laughed. “I already told you to stay away from her.”

“Well, it’s hard when she follows me everywhere.”

“Then stop going places. Sit still. Drink this,” he said, before pushing another tequila-filled shot glass toward me.

“You don’t have to get me drunk to take advantage of me,” I joked.

“Shut up, dickhead. Drink.”

I downed the shot quickly. “You’re going to have to carry me out of here.”

“Shit. You’re going to have to carry me,” Logan stuttered.

“Maybe they’ll let us sleep here.” I laughed and pulled out my cell phone.

“No! No cell phones tonight, man. You just pitched a no-hitter! We’re getting fucked up!” Logan shouted before sliding my cell phone down the length of the table.

“Dick! Hey, Chance, gimme my phone, will you?” I shouted toward my teammates on the other end.

Chance looked down, his eyes widened, and he pushed it forcefully. I watched as it practically flew and landed in my lap with a thud.

“What did I tell you?” Logan yelled, his eyelids half closed.

“I’m just gonna text Cass, then I’ll shut it off,” I promised my drunk friend. I typed out the text as quickly as I could, which wasn’t very quick considering how drunk I was.

I miss yo9 os fukkeng mucb. Wish u wede hefd.

I stared at the text message before pressing Send. I knew I’d spelled words wrong, but I was too drunk to care about fixing it.

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this fucked up. My vision blurred, my head spun, my legs shook as I walked, and my defenses were definitely down on the floor somewhere with my good judgment. I spotted Chrystle on the dance floor and suddenly couldn’t tear my eyes away from her tiny little body as she shook it. She watched me watching her and I knew I was in trouble.

Look away, you idiot.

Hot prickles shot through my body, but I ignored their warning, watching Chrystle grind her tight little body against another girl’s. Her hips dipped and moved in perfect rhythm and I suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about fucking her. If she moved like that on the dance floor…

The song changed and she ditched her dance partner and headed toward me. “I knew you liked what you saw earlier. You were just playing hard to get.”

“I didn’t like it earlier, but I like it now.” I slurred my words.

’Cause I’m fucking loaded and I can’t think straight.

“Is that right? Earlier you had a girlfriend.” She toyed with me, pressing her sweaty body against mine as I instantly became aroused.

Cassie.

“Earlier you didn’t care.”

“I still don’t,” she sassed before grinding her hips into me.

“You better stop doing that or it’s gonna get you in trouble.”

I want to give her some trouble.

Some good, hard trouble.

“Maybe I wanna get into trouble?” She turned her body around and pressed her ass against me before bending over to pick something up off the floor. “I dropped this. Sorry.”

Fuck. Me.

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her to me. When our bodies were pressed up against each other, she reached down and placed her hand on my zipper. “Take me home, Jack.”

“You know this doesn’t mean anything, right? It’s just sex.” Drunken truth spilled from my lips.

“You sure know how to romance a girl,” she pouted as her bottom lip jutted out.

“Fucking isn’t romantic. And that’s all we’re gonna do.” I grabbed her hand and attempted to pull her toward the exit. “You can drive, right?” I asked as I struggled to stay upright.

“I’m sober as a judge.” She dangled her keys in the air.

“I don’t know what that means, but let’s go.”

She giggled as I followed behind her.

*****

I rolled over, my head throbbing and my eyes refusing to open willingly. I thrashed my arm across the bed before hitting someone and I jumped.

“Stop, Jack. Let me sleep,” a girl’s voice spoke.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

This wasn’t happening. I was going to turn and look at the other half of my bed and it was going to be empty. This was all going to be a bad dream. I squeezed my eyes before turning and opening them.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

A head full of brown hair lay splayed across my pillow, a naked female body accompanying it. My stomach dropped to the carpet as I moved to sit on the edge of my bed. I threw my pounding head into my hands before looking down. I tugged and pulled at the recesses of my mind where the memories of last night were hiding. There’s no way I did this. Maybe she came home with one of my roommates and needed a place to crash? I love Cassie. I love Cassie so goddammed much I’d never do this to her.

Fuck.

The memories started pouring in swiftly and unabashedly. I remembered. Now I wished I could forget.

I grabbed my cell phone and stood up before realizing I was naked. A pair of boxers and a sweatshirt later, I sat on the balcony in the early morning dew, dialing Cassie’s number.

“Hey, babe,” she breathed tiredly into the phone.

I didn’t know what to say so I stayed silent, knowing that these would be the last few moments that everything between us would be okay.

Hang up, you idiot.

Hang up the phone.

She’ll never know what happened if you don’t tell her.

“Jack?” she asked. “Hello? Jack?” She sounded so concerned. “I can hear you breathing, dummy.” She yawned into the receiver.

“Kitten?” I muttered.

Too late to hang up now.

“I wish you could see me roll my eyes,” she responded with a chuckle.

“That’s not good for you.” My voice came out slowly.

“What’s wrong? Are you drunk?”

“I think I still am, yeah.” I tugged at my hair.

“Did you drive?”

“No.”

“Good.” I heard the smile in her voice. “Are you okay?”

I can’t do it.

I can’t lose her.

Not over this.

Everyone makes mistakes.

“Yeah, Kitten. Sorry for calling so early. I just wanted you to know how much I love you.”

I am such a pussy.

“I love you too.” Her voice was perfect. She was perfect. I couldn’t lose her.

My stomach balled into knots. “Go back to bed. I love you. I’ll call you later,” I said, swallowing the baseball-sized lump in my throat.

She giggled. “Night, Jack. Congratulations again on your perfect game. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks, babe. Bye.” I pressed End, squeezed my eyes shut, and buried my head in my hands, wishing I could bury the guilt instead.

How could I undo this? Cass couldn’t ever know this happened. I’d do anything to make sure of that. I vowed to never drink excessively again. I’d never put myself in that kind of a position where I could willingly be so stupid. Anger quickly filtered through my pain as I remembered the girl sleeping in my bed. I stormed into my room before slamming the door shut with a loud bang.

“Get the fuck up and get out,” I shouted. She was on her stomach, sprawled spread-eagle over three-quarters of the bed. Still naked. Shit.

Chrystle moved slightly, her eyes opening to look at me. “What? Why are you so angry?” She whined and it made her even more annoying.

“Get out.” I reached across the bed, grabbing her by the forearm and pulling.

“Ow, Jack, jeez! I’ll get up. What’s your problem?” She sat up, not bothering to pull up the sheet to cover her nakedness, and her eyes narrowed as she glared at me.

“You’re my problem. Get out of my bedroom. Get out of my apartment. Get out of my life,” I demanded, my attitude void of any respect or kindness.

“You sure weren’t saying that last night,” she commented coyly and my temper flared.

“Get out or I will throw you out.”

“Sounds like foreplay.” She bit her bottom lip suggestively and my stomach churned.

“For a twisted slut, maybe.” I scowled darkly and flung venom-filled words designed to hurt her.

“Oh, so now I’m a slut?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and began to wriggle back into her clothes from last night.

“I’m sure you were always a slut,” I responded coolly.

“Well, you sure as hell weren’t complaining last night. And I’m sure you won’t complain again soon.” Her confidence oozed through an arrogant smile.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t fuck the same girl twice. Not really my style.” In desperation, I went for my worst asshole tone of voice.

“We’ll see,” she said smugly before heading out my door and closing it behind her.

I tore the sheets from my bed and threw them in the corner, half tempted to light the damn things on fire. I opened the window as far as it would go, trying to air out the sick smell of sex from my room. Images of my idiocy replayed in my mind and I wished I could reach through my head and rip them from my skull.

I walked down the hall to turn the shower on, my reflection in the mirror forcing me to stop short. I turned to face myself, my bloodshot brown eyes staring back at me. I balled my hand into a fist and lunged toward the mirror, stopping just short of striking it.

You idiot! You pitched a perfect game last night. A perfect game in baseball. And then you almost took your perfect relationship and flushed it down the toilet. This is your future, you asshole. Don’t ever be that careless with your future again.