Page 43 of The Show

“Matcha.”

I was starting to understand why New York didn’t have the same appeal to him. Still, I’d buy him all the fucking matcha he wanted.

“I’ll have regular caffeine, if it’s all the same to you.”

He smirked, reaching over to take my untouched cup. “Didn’t think you’d actually drink it. Rosa’s bring you a coffee.”

Just as he said her name, a busty older lady with all the steely determination of an English school matron strode into the kitchen, carrying a heavy looking wooden tray with two plates of eggs, and my large black coffee.

“Gracias, Rosa.” He smiled at her as she placed the eggs in front of us. “I won my bet; the New Yorker didn’t drink the matcha.”

She looked at me with what I swear was derision, right down her nose, then at Jupiter with an expression that said she’d move heaven and earth for him of he asked her to. I knew from experience that was the look most women gave him. It was almost the look Lowe had yesterday when I’d told her why we were flying to L.A., and for an entire minute I’d had second thoughts about asking him to move to New York, and then figured I was being irrational, seeing as it was unlikely he was going to say yes anyway.

Either way, Lowe was put firmly in myconslist of this whole idea, and the reason why I’d be keeping her far away from him at all times.

“Gracias, Rosa.” I took a big glug of my coffee, savoring the strength. “This is excellent.”

“Hmmm,” was all she offered before walking out the way she’d came.

Maybe she didn’t speak English, though by the way Jupiter chuckled, I suspected she spoke English just fine. We ate in silence for a minute until he stopped shoveling eggs into his mouth like he’d never been fed, and picked up his matcha.

“Tell me about the club.”

I swallowed my mouthful, and pushed my empty plate to the side. “It’s unloved. It was run by an owner who didn’t care for it and didn’t know much about baseball. It was there to make money, but he wasn’t even good at that. You know how I feel about The Yankees, and for the past three months I’ve oscillated between living in denial and crying myself to sleep.” I offered him a sheepish grin. “But I’ve been watching the games, and it’s not a total bust of a team.” I leaned forward on my elbows, needing the emphasis to continue my speech. “This team is mine now, whether I want it or not, and I’m going to build it into a World Series winning club. I have a month before the trade window opens again, and I want to get all my shit in order before it does. I’m going to shake it up, lose dead weight - both on the field and in the front office - and I want to do it with you.”

He exhaled slowly, putting down his drink. “Shepherd, you understand what you’re asking, right?”

“Yep.”

“You’re asking me to leave The Dodgers? The club which drafted me fourteen years ago. The club I’ve spent my entire career with and won six championship trophies with. Leave California?”

“Yep. But, you know, definitely keep hold of this place, just in case New York’s too cold.”

His laugh was low and dry. “It’ll definitely be too cold. It’s fucking freezing!”

“I’ll buy you a sweater, and the summers aren’t cold. Spring training is in Arizona. You’ll get plenty of sun.”

He got up and opened the fridge on the other side of the kitchen, returning with two bottles of water. “Say I was interested, what’s the offer on the table?”

I tried not to get excited about his question; it didn’t necessarily mean anything. I rubbed my hands together. “I was thinking, two-fifty mil for five years, plus a hundred million signing bonus.”

The bottle stopped halfway to his lips. “Fifty mil a year?”

“Yep”

“Jesus, Shepherd. Have you spoken to anyone else about this?”

I shook my head. “Just the boys,”

He laughed. “Course you have.”

“And who are you thinking about for the team?”

I pulled a slip of paper with my starting nine, and fifteen of my twenty-six man roster wish list, and slid it across the counter. He picked it up and slowly glanced down the names.

“Some strong contenders on here. Ace Watson has a promising career ahead of him,” he murmured as he flicked the paper.

“Yeah, but I want your help with them all. I’m serious, Jupe. I want you and I want your guidance. Help me build this team. Come to New York, come check out the minors with me. Take the challenge, and I’ll give you whatever you want. You only have to name it.”

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