Page 49 of Stealing Home

Central Valley is a D1 school, and they pride themselves on creating scholar athletes. After a cheating scandal in the nineties, the school underwent extensive changes to improve their reputation. Athletes aren’t given a free ride on classes. They provide a tutoring staff to make sure we keep up with course material when we have to miss class for games. Tests, papers and projects are to be turned in within days of a missed deadline, and only in the event we miss it for an away game. Missing class because of a practice is not considered an excused absence, and coaches are strictly advised to respect our academics.

That’s part of the reason students like Max, Will, and myself are given so much shit by Rivera for choosing majors with rigorous academic requirements. If Coach had his way, he’d choose to force all of us to study from one of the departments he’s fostered an understanding with. He thinks college is just a stepping stone to a career in baseball and doesn’t understand that for some of the players baseball is just a way to get a college degree.

Once it’s my turn to hit the showers I stand under the spray and groan. The hot water from the shower does little to ease the soreness developing in my muscles. I’m going to have to spend some time in an ice bath after our second practice today. Thankfully, my first class isn’t for a couple of hours, and I linger longer than most of the other guys. I’m also trying to avoid continuing my argument with Taylor, but he’s waiting for me by the lockers when I get out.

He opens his mouth to start in again, but loud voices from the offices interrupt him.

“Sort out your shit, Fernando. I know you’re pissed Harlow left, but you can’t work the boys like that and hope to have a win tomorrow,” Coach Tucker’s voice booms.

“Don’t fucking talk about my wife. She’ll come to her senses, and those little pansies need a kick in the ass. If you don’t like the way I coach hand me your fucking whistle and leave,” Coach Rivera snaps.

“Fucking try me, asshole,” Tucker taunts. “You’ve been cheating on your wife for a year, and everyone knows it. It was only a matter of time before she found out with the way you’ve been parading Alicia around. The entire team knows because you took her into your hotel room on a fucking away game. Centralia is a small town, and yet you have been seen with her many times at Donovan’s Bar.”

“Mind your own damn business. My wife will remember her fucking place soon enough, so you don’t need to get your jock in a twist,” Rivera replies. I’m ill realizing he’s rubbing his abuse of Harlow in Tucker’s face, in all of our faces, and no one has fucking done a thing.

“You’ll be lucky if the college administration doesn’t find out since technically you’re Alicia’s boss. But if you keep mistreating the players, someone is going to get pissed off enough to tell them,” Tucker explains.

Because that’s what’s important here, protecting a bunch of male athletes who can take care of themselves. Never mind the safety of a woman who is barely five-four and a hundred thirty pounds. Max is right, baseball is only a fucking game. It’s not worth our health, future, or the safety of an innocent woman.

Rivera scoffs. “That would be just great for you, wouldn’t it? I know you wanted my job, but they wanted someone who’d played professional ball running the team instead of some high school coach whose only attribute was winning a stupid state championship.”

“They care about winning, so don’t fool yourself for a minute thinking you’re untouchable,” Coach Tucker fires back. “Run those boys into a losing season, and you’ll be out on your ass in a heartbeat. Either way, your days are numbered, asshole.”

“We should get out of here before either of them come out,” Taylor whispers.

I nod, and quickly shove my shit in my bag and follow him out.

Once we’re in the parking lot he grabs my arm and drags me to his car. “Not so fast. We’re going to fucking talk. I’m your best friend, and you’re treating me like all the other guys.”

He’s not going to let up on this, and as much as I don’t want to dig into my relationship with Harlow, it would be nice to have someone to talk to, as long as he stops being a bitch about it. “Fine, but we’re talking over food. I’m fucking hungry.”

I can’t resist taking him to Hale and Storm Café to hash this out with him. We order at the counter, and I lead him to a booth where we can see into the garage.

He looks around confused. “A bit out of the way for breakfast,” he grumbles.

I shrug. He’s already pissed off, no need to add to it if I don’t end up getting to see Harlow.

Ready to be done with this conversation, I drum my fingers on the top of the table waiting for him to speak. He takes the cue and cuts straight to the point. “You’ve got to end this thing you’ve got going on with the coach’s wife.”

I raise an eyebrow. “She won’t be his wife for much longer.”

He rakes his fingers through his tight curls. “Fuck man, you’re playing a dangerous game. He’s not going to forgive you if he finds out. I mean, you’re breaking up a marriage, dude.”

I roll my eyes. “You heard Coach Tucker. Hell, you’ve seen Rivera with Alicia too. Everyone knows he’s been cheating on her. I’m not breaking up shit. He’s done the damage himself.”

“But you are seeing her,” he pushes.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I state.

He glares at me, his dark eyes practically shooting lasers. “Not my business? You were at that practice, right? Coach is being an insufferable ass because his wife left him. If he finds out you have anything to do with it, you can kiss a career in baseball goodbye, and forget your scholarship.”

I exhale forcefully through my nose. Taylor is my best friend, but even he doesn’t know my future plans, or the state of my finances. People act weird when they find out just how well off my family is. Yeah, he jokingly calls my house a museum, but that’s mostly because of my dad’s photos hanging all over the house. And, to be fair, my family home is large, but it’s not a mansion.

“Look, if he kicks me off the team, I’ll deal with it,” I say.

He barks out a short frustrated laugh. “She’s not worth it.”

“You don’t know anything about her,” I say through clenched teeth.

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