Page 58 of Carmine

“Never seen anything so beautiful,” he murmured before lying down next to me and dragging me close.

“You’re mine, sweet girl, forever and always,” he said.

Lazily, I kissed his chest. I didn’t have it in me to disagree.

Carmine - Three days later.

“Can you believe this shit? I just played the game of a lifetime, and that crap Rankin pulled is what they want to report?” I yelled down the phone at Freddie.

Molly lay in bed watching me, her eyes alert and her mouth tight. Around her was a couple of newspapers and one she’d shredded in a temper.

“Carmine, racism and that paedophilic stuff Rankin was spouting is big news. Shit, even his own teammate punched him over it,” Freddie argued.

Angrily, my gaze narrowed.

“Whose side are you on, bro?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Carmine. Yours, of course,” Freddie snapped in return.

“Organise a press conference. We’re going to announce my retirement. I’m done with this bullshit. Yet again, that rags allegations are everywhere,” I shouted.

“Don’t make a rash decision!” Freddie said, alarmed.

“Worried about losing your cash cow? Call the fuckin’ conference,” I yelled and hung up.

“If you quit because of them, they win. Rankin and all those other bastards,” Molly drawled as she shredded another paper.

I couldn’t help but be amused. Molly was simple. If she didn’t like it, she didn’t ‘read it and tore it into small pieces. That was precisely her opinion on the reading material.

“Molly, I became a ballplayer because I loved it. Not to lead the way against racism or any other ism. Rankin was a rarity for me. I’d not encountered his level of hate before in the game,” I replied.

“Why allow him to take that away? Rankin will win. Address the article without discussing it. And then talk about what Rankin said and thank his teammate for being a decent person. If you haven’t experienced racism, then say so, but don’t deny it exists because I’m sure it does. Just state how happy you are that these issues are being raised, but you’re not qualified to comment on them,” Molly replied.

Surprised, I stared at her before crawling over the bed and claiming her mouth.

Molly smiled happily before continuing to rip another newspaper up. That’s my girl.

Molly

Anxiously, I watched as Carmine read from a pre-prepared statement and spoke to the gathered reporters. Once finished, Carmine made it clear he wouldn’t talk about what went down with Rankin. However, he was happy to discuss the game that he’d just pitched or chat about the Michaelson’s Scholarship programme.

As expected, several of the journalists tried to shove their questions about Rankin at Carmine, but Carmine either stared at them or asked if they didn’t understand English.

“Lady, I was ordered to do it. Coach realised Carmine was going to pitch a perfect game. He threatened to bench me for the rest of the season.”

Startled, I turned and saw Rankin. He looked sorry, unkempt, and nothing like the spitting man who’d been dragged off a baseball field.

“Is that the truth or the story you’re now telling?” I questioned.

“My wife is Japanese, and my children are mixed-race. Molly, I don’t have a racist bone in my body. My grandma would beat the shit out of me. She’s African,” Rankin replied.

“Why do it? Why compromise your ethics like that?”

“Because I need to look after my family. A lot of my money is eaten up by my youngest daughter. Emma’s very sick, and I pay thousands each month for treatments for her medication and treatment, without which she’d die. I couldn’t afford to be benched,” Rankin answered honestly.

“It’s too late. Unless you have evidence,” I said. “You’re one of the most hated men out there right now.”

“Molly, I have proof,” Rankin replied and pulled his phone. “A member of the coaching staff recorded this.”

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