Page 43 of Double Play

A few people start taking videos of us, but who cares? I’m frankly happy that we’ll have this moment memorialized. The moment when I think I see Arizona begin to truly break free of her demons.

After taking a few photos with fans at theRockystatue back at the bottom of the steps, her more than me, we part ways knowing we’ll see each other at the big photo shoot tomorrow.

CHAPTER NINE

LAYTON

Idon’t know why it’s bothering me so much that Arizona isn’t coming to our game tonight against Anaheim. Maybe I’m just annoyed that she has no legitimate reason for not coming. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing her in the stands. Her games are mostly in the afternoons, so she’s been to nearly all our home games. And her brother is pitching tonight. The whole thing makes no sense to me.

We’re on the field. It’s the second inning and there are two outs. Quincy is throwing heat. He’s mowed down the first five batters of the game. Marc Whitaker steps into the box.

I can see Quincy’s face tighten all the way from the pitcher’s mound. He starts mumbling to himself. I wonder if he has an issue with Whitaker.

I remove my mask and turn back to the umpire. “I need a timeout.”

He nods, holds up his hands, and yells, “Time.”

I slowly jog out to the mound. “What’s up, Q? Do you have beef with this guy?”

He gives me a look of shock. “You don’t know?”

I shake my head. “Obviously not.”

“Whitaker is her former fiancé.”

“Whose former fiancé?”

He gives me aduhlook.

My eyes widen as things fall into place. “He’sthe one? That’stheMarc?”

Quincy nods.

“Holy shit.”

“I don’t know how much you know…”

“I know everything. I just didn’t know it washim.” I can feel my jaw ticking. My stomach is in knots. I want to pound his face in.

“I’ve beaned him every time I’ve faced him over the past year. The league says if I do it again, I’ll be suspended. I don’t know what to do.” Beaning is when a pitcher intentionally hits an opposing batter with a pitch.

I squeeze his shoulder. “I’ve got you, brother.”

He subtly nods at me, knowing I’ll have his back.

“Walk him.”

“What? Are you crazy? I’m not giving him a free pass.”

“He’s speedy, right?”

“Yes.”

“Walk him, and then throw three straight balls to the next batter. Trust me.”

Without any more hesitation, he says, “Will do.”

I head back to home plate and crouch down. Whitakersteps into the batter’s box. He’s a big guy in that he’s muscular. I’m much taller than him, but he’s built like a brick house. He’s been in the league for years, but I’ve never had any real interaction with him. I’m about to now.

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