Page 23 of Pursued by the Player

Chapter 6

Jett paidthe taxi driver and helped Mel out of the car.

"Is that the stadium?" she asked as he put his arm around her.

"Yup."

"Are we going there?"

"In a minute. I want to show you something first." He led her down one of the side streets next to the stadium, where a long line of convenience stores, gift shops and other touristy spots were located.

"This is it," he said, stopping in front of one store.

"The Pennywise?" she asked.

Jett's had felt increasingly nervous ever since he had made the decision to come to this store. It was so much a part of him, of his past. She had wanted to know the real him, and this was as real as it got. Once they walked in together, there would be no turning back.

He fought the sudden urge to steer her away from this place full of secrets, to take her back to Chez Monique, which was much more familiar ground. Jett knew what to do back there. He could slip into his easy smile like a kids' costume on Halloween and charm the panties off every woman in the place.

He'd also keep feeling alone. After years and years of pretending to be the person everyone wanted to see--the playboy, the billionaire, the star pitcher, he found that no one knew the real him. Not even his limo driver Vince, a long-time friend who knew his preferences better than most. No, Vince didn't know the real him. No one did. Except one.

And for some reason he couldn’t explain, Jett wanted Melody to know the real him, too.

"This is it," he said, steering her into the door. A bell over the entrance chimed, and a large, balding man with crooked teeth and piercing blue eyes poked his head up from underneath the register counter.

"Jett, my boy. How are you?" He smoothed his hands through his gray hair--what was left of it-- and rounded the counter toward them. "You never visit no more."

"I've been busy." Jett pulled away from Mel and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Not too busy for Papi, eh?" The man hobbled over and gave him a gigantic bear hug. "I've been following you in the papers. You pitched a no-hitter last night."

"Yeah, yeah. It's all fluff stuff."

"That's your Pops talking."

"Your Pops?" Mel asked.

Jett flashed her a sheepish look. "The head of the orphanage where I grew up, Mr. Dresmitt. He insisted that all of the kids called him Pops as if we were some big happy family."

"Wonderful, charitable soul, but he was wrong about you." The man pointed a finger at Jett. "He thought you pursuing baseball would be a waste of time. It's just too bad that he died before you could prove him wrong.” The storekeeper crossed himself. "May he rest in peace."

"Amen," Jett said, crossing himself before he realized what he was doing. Some habits died hard. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at Mel, hoping she didn't notice. She did.

"You were adopted?" she asked.

"Bah, he was never adopted. Those crazy parents wanted cute babies to fill their arms. None of them saw your potential." He touched the side of his nose. "But we did."

"Mr. Greisman here used to help at the orphanage, too."

"That's right, until my back gave out and I couldn't play with the kids no more. The best part of my job was playing with the kids." He smiled at Jett. "I taught this bad boy how to pitch. Did a mighty fine job of it, if I do say so myself." The man squeezed Jett's arms and nodded toward Mel. "You finally settling down, eh? Finally taking old Papi's advice."

"Nah, Mel is just a friend. I'm showing her around."

"Well," the man said, dropping his arms. "Any friend of Jetty is a friend of mine." He slapped Jett's arm. "Come on, I'll get you two some hot dogs, on the house."

"Jetty?" Mel grinned as they followed Mr. Greisman to the counter.

Jett slid into the seat. "All of the people who ran the orphanage considered us a family. We were all to call them by family names. Mr. Dresmitt was Pops. . ." Jett nodded to the store clerk, making hot dogs. "And he was Papi. There was also Aunt Jessie and Aunt Bree."

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