Page 11 of Strike Zone

I am a machine.

I’m not a quitter.

Chapter Three

LINC

The universe has a way of bringing you back down to earth with a bang when you soar too high. The first week after the win was phenomenal—partying, press, and a real sense of accomplishment. There’s something about a team who wins championships together in any sport—a dynamic that’s forged in fire. When you pull off the feat a second time, that bond becomes life-long. All these guys have become my brothers, and we had an amazing week celebrating.

This week, however, was a whole different ball game. I was asked if I’d make an appearance at my old high school. It’s been a long time since I’ve been back, so I figured how bad could it be?

The answer was a sharp slap in the face. It was bad. Not the school event—it was fun. Most of these kids come from the same background as me and suffer from the same limitations that my mom tried to impose on me. Poverty and desperation are a recipe for mediocrity for most of the population of this town, but for me, it was the catalyst to get me to the major leagues.

I convinced Anders to tag along, which was great when I strolled in as the World Series high school alum, being cheered and heralded as the biggest star ever to walk the halls. Now that we’re standing outside my mom’s place, I wish I’d come alone.

“Is this where you grew up?”

“Yeah. When I signed with the Yankees, I offered to buy my mom a house and take care of all her expenses, but apparently, she hates me enough not to want my money.”

“Then not to be insensitive, but why are we here?”

“Because she’s my mom.” My mom always hated that I wanted to play baseball professionally. The kid in me still wants her approval, and even though she wasn’t forthcoming with praise after last year’s win, I’m hoping this year is different. I hit the winning shot. Maybe now she’ll understand and find it in her heart to be proud of me.

I gingerly rap my knuckles on the flimsy door, waiting at the bottom of the makeshift front stoop. I didn’t think to check if she’d be home or not, assuming she still works the same shifts as always. The second I hear her shuffling around inside, my heart drops into my stomach, and as the door swings open, I’m no longer the World Series-winning baseball star, Lincoln Nash.

“What are you doing here, and who the hell is he?” she says, pointing at Anders.

Her voice is ice water trickling down my spine, paralyzing me as I take in the sight of her never-changing appearance.

“I suppose you want to come in?”

As I cross the threshold, it’s as if I’m being dragged kicking and screaming against my will through a portal in time, and suddenly, Anders is no longer behind me, and when I catch sight of myself in the crusty old mirror on the counter, I’m seventeen again.

“Why are you wasting your time with that bat and ball? Baseball won’t pay the bills, Lincoln.” She always seems so mad when I come home after a win.

“Coach thinks I could get a full ride through college if I hit well this year. You should’ve seen me tonight… I was on fire.” She never comes to my games.

“He needs to stop filling your head with nonsense. Your grades are disappointing at best, and my wages at the diner couldn’t put you through community college. I don’t know why these teachers want to get your hopes up. We’re not a college family. The sooner you accept that and decide what trade you’re going to pursue, the better off you’ll be.”

I bust my tail morning, noon, and night on the field, and when I’m done with that, I work shifts at the local coffeehouse. There’s no time for good grades, which you’d think my mom would understand, considering she’s the reason I need to work. Her job doesn’t cover the rent on this shitty trailer, and even if I didn’t need a job, I wouldn’t want to spend time at home.

My mom is a single parent, and my father is a blank spot on my birth certificate. All I know is that he wanted nothing to do with my mom when he found out she was pregnant. I never felt the need to know his name or whether they were in love, but on nights like tonight, when my teammates’ fathers are in the crowd cheering, I wish I knew the man whose absence ruined my mother. He must have been quite a guy.

All I know is I’m never going to let someone have that kind of power over me—not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

* * *

It’s a hell of a lot hotter in Vegas than it is in New York right now. The sun is shining, and I’m ready to roll the die and continue my winning streak after the World Series win. We flew in ahead of the big fight tomorrow night, and after my trip down memory lane this week, I’m looking forward to letting loose and shaking it off. The woman of the hour, Brooke’s sister, is supposed to be joining us for dinner, but I’ll believe it when I see it.

Diana and I met once before at Brooke and Anders’ wedding, but she wouldn’t give me the time of day. She had a lame date at the reception, but when has that ever stopped a woman from diving into my pants. So, if I were a betting man—and I am, as evidenced by my current stack of chips—I think she’ll be a no-show. A less confident man might assume she actively avoids social occasions with her sister if she knows I’m going to be present, but how little self-control can the woman have? Is she so worried she’d jump my bones that she can’t be in the same room with me?

Brooke and Anders disappeared up to their suite over an hour ago to ‘freshen up’ before dinner, so I’m sure they’re at it like rabbits. I am, however, killing it at the craps table, and the blonde to my left is easy on the eye. All in all, it’s a decent start to the weekend.

“Showing off already, Linc? I’d expect nothing less.” Her voice cuts through the adoration like a knife through butter, and I don’t even have to look up to know it’s her.

“Says the woman who’s here to show off to a crowd of what, sixteen thousand?” I hold the die up to the cute blonde’s lips to blow on for luck as I meet Diana’s gaze across the table. She rolls her eyes at me, but there’s a hint of something else—dangerously close to the green-eyed monster.

She can bring it outside the ring, looking gorgeous in a tight-fitting dress that hugs in all the right places with her long black hair cascading down her back like Niagara Falls. She’s stunning, and she knows it.

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