Page 1 of Double Play

PROLOGUE

LAYTON

Ipunch the back of the seat in front of me and shout into my Bluetooth earpiece, “Are you fucking kidding me, Tanner?”

The Uber driver turns around and gives me a dirty, disapproving glare. I hold up my hands in surrender and mouth, “Sorry.”

In my ear, I hear my longtime agent respond, “I’m sorry, Layton. It came directly from the Greene family. Barring some miracle, they’re not planning to renew your contract after this season.”

“How can they treat me like this? The Greenes are like family to me. I used to spend holidays with them. I’ve dedicated fifteen years to the Philly Cougars and they’re not going to let me finish my career here?”

He’s silent.

“What is it, Tanner?”

“Well…umm…maybe you should finally consider retiring. I know we’ve briefly discussed it in the past, but perhaps it’s time to formulate a legitimate exit strategy. You’ll finish your career as a Cougar. I’m sure they’ll be on board to make it seem as though it’s your decision to walk away from the game. They wouldn’t deny you that dignity. We can focus on the next chapter for you. You’re wildly popular in Philadelphia. We can probably get you a lucrative deal in the broadcasting booth or coaching. And you know I’m always fielding offers for you to promote products and brands.”

I blow out a breath. “I’m only thirty-four. There’s more gas left in this tank; I know there is.”

He sighs. “I love you like a brother, but it’s a fact that you’re the oldest player on the team, Layton. You’re not performing like you once did. You should be happy they haven’t benched your ass yet. In reality, if the rookie catcher hadn’t hurt his shoulder, you probably wouldn’t be starting right now.”

I know he’s right about that, and I appreciate that he always shoots straight with me. “Is there anything I can do to change their minds?”

“I don’t know, man. They seem pretty set on this. When the team owner tells the General Manager that he refuses to re-sign you, there’s not much the GM can do. His hands are tied. I suppose if you start playing like you did a few years ago, that might help. But they said they won’t be having any more conversations about it with me in the near future. It means you’ve got the second half of the season to prove yourself. It’s the all-star break right now. You have a few days off to think about things before the rest of the season kicks into gear. Give the final three months everything you’ve got. Leave nothing on thetable.”

“I hear you. I’ll do my best. Thanks.”

“Sure thing. What are you up to tonight?”

I probably shouldn’t tell him that I plan to drink excessively and find a hottie to take home. “I’m meeting a few guys from the team for a beer.”

“I see. Well, whoever you take home, make sure she looks good on camera. We wouldn’t want your reputation as Philly’s favorite bad boy to take a hit. The hashtaglaidbylaytonis trending. It’s good for your brand.”

I let out a laugh. “Will do. I certainly don’t want to let down my fans.”

“Seriously, you get a lot of money to make appearances at clubs because of the type of women you attract. Stay on brand.”

I cringe. I hate the club appearances, but it’s easy money and I know my playing days are numbered. I need to capitalize while I can.

“I’ll try not to disappoint you. What are you doing tonight?”

“I have Harper this weekend. She wants to hit the batting cages tonight.”

I chuckle. “I love that she’s a little tomboy. Tell her hello from Uncle Layton.”

“I will. Thanks. Have fun.”

“Later.”

We hang up just as the Uber driver pulls up to Screwballs, a longtime favorite watering hole for Cougars players. The owners keep it relatively lowkey and ensure we’re not bombarded by fans. We have a standard table roped off from the rest of the crowd.

Screwballs is by no means a club, but they always have a local band playing cover music. The younger guys on the team usually gravitate to the more traditional clubs,with us older guys hitting this place. By older, I mean over the age of thirty. Not exactly real-world old but, unfortunately, professional baseball old. I only go to the clubs when I’m being paid to do so. It’s not my scene anymore.

I walk in and see my boys already at our table. I pull down my hat so I’m not recognized and bombarded as I make my way over to them. They all smile and nod in acknowledgment when they notice me approaching. My eyes find Ezra Decker, Quincy Abbott, and Cheetah, our nickname for speedy Cruz Gonzales.

I sit next to Quincy at the end of the circular booth. “How are things looking tonight, Q?”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “I love this place. There’s a lot of talent here.”

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