Going Deep (25 page)

“I don’t
understand,” she said.

“Jason forbade
me to look you up, but since you approached
me
…well, I’m perfectly
justified in speaking to you. At least that’s the way I see it.” Her eyes
twinkled with mischief.

“You
wanted
to talk to me?” None of this made sense. The ballpark was a magical place, but
this…this went beyond magical into surreal.

“Oh, yes. I’ve
been dying to meet the woman he fell in love with, but he told me not to
contact you, so I didn’t. I had to respect his wishes, but now….” She smiled that
megawatt smile of hers again. “All bets are off!”

Okay. This was
the Twilight Zone, and Megan Holder was clearly insane. In the weeks since she’d
last seen him, she’d been forced to face reality. What she’d seen in his eyes
had been nothing more than wishful thinking on her part. If he cared for her at
all, he wouldn’t have left her that way, and he would have contacted her by
now. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow. “Jason doesn’t love me. He hates
me.”

“No.” Megan
shook her head. “I don’t know what makes you think that. Well, I can imagine.
Jason can be harsh when his feelings are hurt, but he’s a good man. Kind.
Caring. Generous.” Her smile disappeared. “ Look, I’ve known Jason as long as I’ve
known my husband. To say we have a history would be an understatement, but that’s
a story for him to tell, so just let me say, I know him very well. He was
unhappy for a long time. Then he met you, and it was like someone turned on a
light inside him. I’d never seen him so happy and, um content. That’s it. He
seems content. This thing has thrown him, but he’s coping. He’ll come out on
the other side stronger than before, but I want him to be happy,  and you,
Carrie Taylor, make him happy.”

She shook her
head. “No, I don’t. He was very clear. He doesn’t want to see me again.”

“And I’m sure he
meant it at the time,” Megan conceded. “But it’s my experience that men don’t
know how much they want something until they don’t have it anymore. Trust me, he’ll
come around. He’s too much like his brother in that respect.”

“Begging your
pardon, Mrs…, Megan,” she corrected, “but I don’t think he’s going to come
around. I betrayed his trust.”

“You betrayed
the trust of a man you didn’t know.”

Carrie stiffened
at the reference to something the other woman could only know because Jason had
told her. Megan waved away her concerns with the flick of her wrist. “Don’t get
your panties in a wad. I don’t know everything, but I know he hid his identity
from you. He and Jeff have always guarded their privacy. You should see the
security system at our house. The Secret Service could learn a thing or two. Same
goes for Jason’s new place. Anyway, he told me enough to piece the story
together. What I want to know is, would you have written the article if you’d
known you were writing about the man you’d grown to know?”

“No. Never.” She
forced her shoulders to relax. “When I figured out Jason Holder was my mas….” She
glanced away as her skin flushed with color. “My master.”
Might as well
swing for the cheap seats.
“I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. Master
would never use steroids. Besides, I knew his body, even though I’d never seen
him, I had plenty of opportunity to touch, and there are certain signs. He didn’t
have them.”

Megan nodded. “You
can see a lot with your hands.”

“Yes, that’s
true. I tried to stop the article, but my editor wouldn’t hear of it.” The whole
story spilled out then. It felt good to tell it to someone who didn’t judge her
actions and immediately find her guilty.

“Martin McCree
is an ass,” Megan said when Carrie wound down. “He used you, and now he’s using
Jason to dilute the media attention on his own case. Don’t let it destroy you.
It won’t destroy Jason. Maybe set him back a little, but he won’t let it ruin
him or his career.”

“I hope not. He’s
worked hard to get where he is. He doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“So…what are you
going to do about it?”

“Me?” Carrie
squeaked. “I don’t know what I can do. I lost my job, and the story has grown
into a monster with tentacles reaching out all over the place.”

She squirmed
under Megan’s silent scrutiny.

 “Why are you
here today?”

“Jason has a
chance to break the Mustangs’ team record for most homeruns in a single season.
I wanted to be here for him, even if he never knows it.” She wrung her hands. “Actually,
he wouldn’t want me here, so please don’t tell him you saw me.”

“You love him.”

No sense denying
it. One more truth to face up to. “Yes. More than anything.”

“Then you’ll
find a way to fix this.”

“I would if I
could. I don’t think he’ll ever take me back, even if I were able to pull off a
miracle and end this for him.”

Megan wiggled to
the edge of the sofa and stood. “Come over here,” she said, leading the way to
a plate-glass window on the far wall.

“Wow,”

Below them, the
field sparkled like a giant broach—a diamond winked in the center, surrounded
by emeralds. The batting practice equipment had been put away, and the grounds crews
were busy smoothing the dirt around the bases. Another crew used a template to
place the chalk lines of the batter’s box where Mustangs history might be made
today.

“Did Jason tell
you about his heart surgery?” Megan asked.

It took Carrie a
moment to adjust to the abrupt change of subject.
No. He never let me get
that close.
“He has a scar. He said he was nine.”

“Let me tell you
a story, Carrie.”

Chapter Seventeen

He tried not to
think about the record. There was plenty of time left in the season, and unless
he suffered an injury or Doyle took him out of the lineup, he’d break the
record. If not today, then another day. No sense worrying about it. How many
times had players choked trying to accomplish a specific goal? Too many to
count. He’d play his usual game, and if the right pitch came along, he’d hit
it. That and a little diamond dust would take care of the record. For now, he’d
focus on winning the game, because a win for the team was more important than a
record for one player. And, if he hit a homerun, then he’d contribute at least
one run toward the win. That’s what the game was about, all the players
contributing. Some did it better than others, but everyone on the Mustangs
roster were top-notch players, and they deserved his complete concentration.

Jason stepped up
to bat, acknowledging the good luck chorus coming from the dugout with a thumbs
up. Bottom of the first inning, two men on, one out. Just another at bat.
Forget about Megan and his parents in the stands. They came to lots of games,
so no big deal. Just another day at the office.

While the umpire
brushed dirt off home plate, Jason allowed his gaze to travel around the
stadium. It never ceased to amaze him. What began as Jeff’s dream and something
for him to hold onto when the going got rough, had become a reality for both of
them. But not without a lifetime of hard work. Only a handful of kids grew up
to be major league players, and here he was, one of the lucky ones who’d beat
the odds. Luckier than most, but that was something he didn’t talk about, no
matter how much his busybody sister-in-law insisted he should.

The crowd stood,
a show of support for his attempt at the record. How many of them believed he’d
gotten here by trickery? More than a few, and if he broke the record today, it
would be more fuel on the growing bonfire the media had lit underneath his
career.

“Tell them,” Megan
had insisted when she’d come to the rail earlier.

He’d heard the
words enough. They were a constant echo in his head these days.

“Scorn or pity.
Does it make any difference?”

That usually
shut her up. He didn’t want either one, so he’d keep him mouth shut, and maybe
one of these days they’d believe him. Hell, he could piss in a cup on camera
then follow the specimen through the whole testing process, but still, someone
would claim the video had been altered in some way. Might as well keep his dick
in his pants. They’ll think what they want to think, no matter what.

The first pitch
was low and outside. Ball one. No pitcher wanted to give up a homerun, much
less a record breaking one. Yeah, that’d be a pisser. He lifted the bat to his
shoulder and narrowed his gaze on the pitcher’s hand—that tiny speck of white showing
between his fingers. The windup. The release. He processed the information—arm
speed, grip, wrist motion. A slider—impossible to tell if it would come in for
a strike. He checked his swing.

Strike one.

Another slider.
Jason swung. Funny how sounds meant different things to different people. When
he was catching, he loved to hear the smack of the ball hitting his glove, but when
he was batting, he preferred the crack of lumber connecting with the ball.

Strike two.

He expected a
wasted pitch—something only a man looking for a record homerun would swing at,
and that’s what he got. High and outside. Jason declined to swing.
I’m not
that desperate, buddy.
Bring it on.

Two balls, two
strikes.

Two more pitches—both
fouled into the net behind home plate.

Another
throwaway pitch.

Still not
desperate, asshole. Grow a pair, and throw me something I can hit.

Full count.

He forced
himself to relax, so he would have something left to hit the ball with if the guy
found his testicles and actually pitched to him.

The next pitch veered
so far off the plate, the catcher almost dislocated his shoulder trying to
catch it.
Fuck
.

The air
reverberated with the low, baritone of forty-plus thousand fans booing. Jason
tossed his bat toward the on deck circle as he jogged down the first base line.
He had no idea how much of the crowd’s displeasure was with his inability to
drive one out of the park or the wimp-assed pitcher who would rather take his
chances with the rest of the batting order. But he was on base, which meant a
chance to score if Todd could come up with a hit. A walk was as good as a hit,
he reminded himself, but it damned sure wasn’t a homerun either. And if the
pitcher maintained his control, connecting with one this game, much less two, would
be an uphill battle.

* * *

Carrie clenched
her fists and bit her lip. Her body vibrated with anxiety, or maybe it was from
the crowd surrounding her stomping their feet in perfect rhythm. She almost
wished she’d taken Megan up on her offer to get her a seat in the family
section, but after she had pointed out the block of seats and mentioned she
would be sitting with her in-laws, Carrie had politely declined. They were
excellent seats, close enough to the field to actually see the players, which
meant the players could see the fans, too. She hadn’t come to the game to
disrupt Jason’s quest for the record, and seeing her in the stands with his
parents would certainly do that.

So, she kept her
nosebleed seat, doing her best to send telepathic messages of encouragement to
Jason. It was almost impossible to concentrate. No wonder this single ticket had
still been available. The rows from which her seat had been carved were
occupied by a group of ponytailed softball players and their parents. The
entire section to her right was filled with underage baseball players on a
league outing, judging by their team uniforms, to see the big boys play. If the
object of the trip had been to learn something about the game, then they failed
miserably. The only education they seemed to be getting pertained to the
varieties of junk food available. And everyone in the section was getting a
lesson in how to be obnoxious from the group of frat boys occupying the
uppermost rows of the stadium.

But Jason couldn’t
see her, and that was the most important thing. Here, among the anonymous
masses, she could cheer to her heart’s content, and watch his every move. She
knew his body well, could see even from this distance the tension he held in
his shoulders. She’d always imagined the players would be relaxed—having fun.
Game or no game, baseball was serious business to the players. It was their
job. Their livelihood. They played to win, and winning took skill and
intelligence, and hard work.

It was
impossible to ignore the scattered conversations when Jason came to bat. The
scandal she’d created was far from dead. Everyone had an opinion, and they
voiced them. She strained to hear a couple of the softball dads.

“You know he’s
guilty,” one said.

“Why? I don’t
get it. These guys make millions. Why risk it?”

“Endorsement
deals if they break the record. A sweeter contract when the current one runs
out. Who knows?” the first one opined.

Carrie sipped
from her soda, stifling the urge to set them straight, even though the only way
she could do that was to reveal who she was and how she knew he didn’t take
steroids. She’d promised Megan she would try to find a way, but it wouldn’t be
easy. For now, all she could do was listen to the ill-informed viewpoints, keep
her mouth shut, and cheer him on.

“Come on,
Holder!” Mr. Stupid Opinion yelled when Jason came up to bat in the third
inning. “You can do it. Out of the park!”

Clearly, the man
still wanted to see him break the record, steroids or no.
Jerk
. What
kind of fan cheered on someone they thought was cheating?

She couldn’t sit
still. The drunken frat boys behind her didn’t seem to care, so she stood tall,
subconsciously making herself a human antenna, sending her love and support to
Jason via invisible thought waves. Stupid, she knew, but she knew how much the
record meant to him—and after what she’d done to him, she couldn’t bear to see
him fail.