Page 4 of Wild Pitch

As if she didn’t just witness a blatant threat to my well-being, Taylor continues. “Let me talk to Mr. Durst. I can buy you some time while you get your girlfriend to Daytona. Bring her around the facility, have her come to some games, and show everybody you’re better with her here.”

My fingers start to tingle, and I pull at the collar of my jersey because all of a sudden, it feels like it’s choking me. What the fuck do I say? I can’t agree with this plan, because thereis no girlfriend.But I can’t say no because it could potentially cost me my career. I try one last excuse, hoping I can talk my way out of this.

“She…umm…she’s shy,” I say, attempting to come up with an excuse for why they can never meet my girlfriend who doesn’t exist. “She?—”

“Goddamn it, Valentine!” Clyde roars, shooting out ofhis seat and slapping his giant hand on the desk. “You better get that girl here before your next start or else! Do you hear me?” The vein in his forehead is threatening to burst as he stares at me with pure rage in his eyes.

I slump in my chair, defeated. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay!” Taylor says with a clap. “As long as Brent doesn’t have anything to say to you, you’re free to go.”

“Who’s Brent?” I ask, confused.

“Me, you asshole,” Friggle pipes up from the corner. “I just want to make it clear that the only reason I’m not pressing charges is because my dad already thinks I’m a disappointment. Pretty sure getting his favorite player arrested would get me kicked out of the house for good this time.”

I stay quiet because what do you say to that? Believe it or not, I know when to keep my mouth shut, so I just watch as they get up and prepare to leave. Taylor’s assistant escorts the men out of the room, giving the two of us some privacy.

“I’m serious, Riggs,” she scolds. “I can’t keep pulling you out of these holes you dig for yourself. Get her here and show the Durst family that you’re ready to be a positive part of this organization. You’re too good of a player to go to waste.”

I nod, standing and walking out of the building toward the player parking lot. Hopping into my Jeep, I think about all the things that Taylor said and how right she is. From the moment I picked up a baseball when I was four years old, I knew I was different. Even at that young age, I could feel it. It was going to be my life.

I spent my entire adolescence idolizing professional pitchers. Every time someone asked me what I wanted tobe when I grew up, there was never a new answer. I never had a backup plan in case I didn’t make it to the MLB. Failure wasnotan option. So, when I entered the draft before my senior year of college, my entire future was riding on whether or not I was chosen. Thankfully, the Fury took me with the third overall pick, and here I am.

I knew coming into this organization that they put a heavy emphasis on being a good person. We’re required to attend a certain number of charity events each year and to spend time in the community as part of our contracts. I learned a lot about helping others while growing up in a tight-knit Massachusetts town called Hope Harbor, but I’ll admit I haven’t done nearly enough of that since I’ve been in Florida.

When I moved here at twenty-one, I got sucked into the nightlife. Being a professional athlete means getting into the most luxurious clubs and spending nights with the most beautiful women this city has to offer. And even though it’s been six years, I’m still having fun with that. I love the freedom that comes with being single. I honestly don’t see myself ever settling down for real, which is why I can’t believe that was my go-to excuse for losing my shit today.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now? It’s not like I can go back to the bathroom at Club Wave and find…whatever her name was. I don’t know any women in Daytona that I’d feel comfortable trusting with this dilemma, let alone having as a live-in fake girlfriend for however long it takes to convince the team’s owner that I’m ready to settle down and take my job seriously.

I’m fucked.

TWO

MONROE

“I hate you,”I say to my best friend Grace as I lean on the doorjamb to her almost empty office. “I hope you and your sexy husband have a hundred Lego-loving children who leave them all over your giant mansion, so you step on one every time you walk.”

“That was oddly specific and really mean,” she says with a grin. “But Tan is definitely sexy.”

Grace got married to her brother’s best friend, and quarterback for the Boston Blizzard, after their Super Bowl win a couple of months ago. I may give her shit because she’s packing up and leaving the boutique to work full-time as a fashion designer, but I couldn’t be happier for her. Just last year, she was in a shitty relationship with an absolute douche nugget because she had given up on ever getting a second chance with Tanner. Thankfully, he got his shit together and returned to Hope Harbor to fix what he had broken, showing Grace what she truly deserves. It may seem like they got hitched in a hurry, but afterspending five years apart, who could blame them for wanting to start their life together?

It's been amazing watching them rekindle their love, but standing here as she packs up her office? I have to admit I’m a little sad. Not because she’s moving. I know she’ll be less than an hour away and I can see her as much as I want. It’s bittersweet for me because Grace was my very first friend when I moved to Massachusetts from California two years ago. Actually, she’s kind of my only friend.

I go out. I hit the clubs in Boston on the weekends. But I wouldn’t necessarily consider the group of girls I do that with myfriends. They’re more like acquaintances who have the same goals as I do when we’re out.

Drink. Dance. Find a hottie to take home.

Rinse and repeat.

That may sound boring and monotonous to some people, but not me. For twenty-four years, every move I made was with a purpose—and it wasneverfor myself. So, when I hit my breaking point and left home, I decided everything I’d do from there on out would be for me, and no one else. For now, that means clubbing on my nights off and banging whoever I want whenever the mood strikes. If there ever comes a day when I get sick of it and decide to settle down, it’ll be onmy terms.

“Hey, girls,” Claire says in a somber tone. She owns the boutique, and as long as I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her without her signature ear-to-ear smile. I can tell she’s holding back tears, so Grace and I give her our full attention.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, helping her over to the chair.She settles in and takes a deep breath before she looks up, wiping the tears that have started to fall down her cheeks.

“I just got back from meeting with my accountant. I may have underplayed some of the numbers to you guys recently. Praya is officially so far in the red, I don’t think we can even afford another month of the mortgage here.”

Grace stands, rushing over to Claire as she breaks down. I know I should do the same, but I’m frozen in place. This job is the only reason I’m able to take care of myself independently. When I left Rolling Hills, my parents cut me off financially, which I completely expected and had prepared for. After I graduated college, I immediately went to work at a marketing firm in Los Angeles. I stayed under their roof, abiding by their strict rules for as long as I could, pocketing every single dollar I could spare in an account they didn’t know about. Even though I hoped to be able to save more, they left me with no choice when they practically sold me away to the richest bachelor they could find.

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