Page 5 of The Curveball

The day I donned the jersey, my family of a few expanded to about five hundred.

I flip my Kings hat backward and sling my bag over my shoulder, ready to get to celebrating. Halfway down the corridor, a tall behemoth leans against the wall outside the training room, shoulder wrapped with an ice pack, and a dopey grin on his face as he stares at his phone.

“Don’t tell me you have new Gare-bear pictures.”

Parker Knight lifts his eyes and chuckles. “That obvious?”

I shove his non-pitching shoulder and peek a glimpse at the screen. Sure enough, his smiley nephew stares back at me. The kid is only a year and a half, but he moves. I’ve never seen such a wiggly kid. He keeps his parents busy.

Parker’s sister is basically my sister. She races to beat my mom to my door with soup when I’m sick, and before she went out on this latest tour with her husband’s billboard topping rock band, she threw me a massive birthday party since she knew she’d be gone for the real day.

“When do they get back from the tour?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good. I’ve got to go see that kid again. He likes guitars too much for my liking.”

“Right?” Parker says like I’ve proved some theory correct. “I keep trying to brainwash him to the game, but Bridger is sabotaging all our efforts.”

“Who does he think he is?” I blow out my lips. “He keeps acting like the kid’s dad or something.”

Parker chuckles and tucks his phone into his pocket. I grin. Being Parker’s right hand guy on the Kings makes me close to the band Perfectly Broken by default. The rockers all grew up with Parker, and since he’s in my circle, so are they. Like I love the Kings, I love those tattooed metal heads.

“Hey,” Parker says, holding out his hand. “Good season, Griff.”

I immediately take it, and we fall into our typical guy-back-slap hug.

“You too, man,” I say. “You killed it.”

Parker’s face flushes. He’s not one to shy away from a lot of attention, but at the meat of his soul he’s humble pie incarnate. A simple guy, really. Someone who likes to smell the roses, even though no one would believe it.

We were drafted to the Major Leagues the same year. We’ve been baseball bonded ever since. This was a huge season for my guy. Kept his streak of starting more games than closing on the mound. No small feat for a closer to start a game, and he’s done it for two seasons now.

But the biggest change was Parker Knight entered this season as a married man. Once dubbed the playboy of the MLB, he fell head over heels for our trainer, Skye.

Never seen the man so freaking happy, and we’ve had some epic times, Knight and me.

I smack his thick bicep. “You coming out toRocco’stonight?

Parker nods. “Wouldn’t miss it. I think we’ve convinced Dallas to stop in too.”

“You lucky jerk. Rubbing shoulders with the king of the Kings.”

“Helps since he’s my father-in-law.” He laughs and claps me on the shoulder. “No worries, buddy. I’m still the same guy, just with a lot of connections you’ll never have.”

I shove him off me as the training room door opens and Skye steps out. She folds up her black Kings polo, but still has her long, dark hair tucked under Parker’s first team ballcap.

“Hey, Hot Shot. I thought you’d be topside by now.” She goes up on her toes, because Parker is huge, and pecks his lips.

“I’m skipping the crowds.” He laces his big hand with Skye’s slender fingers. “They’re feral on pitchers when we lose.”

Skye shoots him a sympathetic look, then faces me. “Griff, you had an awesome season, don’t let that out get to you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

Parker slugs my shoulder, but I don’t back down, nor does his wife.

“Good.” Skye pinches my cheek and wrinkles her nose. “I’m so proud of my catcher.”

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