Page 22 of The Shake Off

We walked through the locker rooms together, past the couches with TVs set up for video games, past the fully stacked poker table, and past the quiet space in the corner where we could nap if we wanted to, until we reached our lockers. I opened mine and pulled out the fresh gym clothes that had been left for me.

Penn Shepherd had made sure we wanted for nothing when it came to our training – our uniform was new every game, along with our training clothes every time we used the facilities, thanks to his healthy budget and our sponsorship deals.

The locker rooms – including the gym, the pool, the rehab and conditioning suites – were better than any five-star hotel, with a service to match. We were strictly banned from bringing our personal laundry here however, I knew because I’d gotten caught doing it last season. Then an email was sent around to the entire club to reiterate.

I caught a movement in the corner of my eye, and I glanced around to see The Lions third baseman – the great Jupiter Reeves himself – walk through the wide doorway.

While I had only recently started my career in the major leagues, Jupiter was nearing the end. As a kid, I’d never missed a Dodgers game just so I could see him play, witness him smash out one home run after another. I’d wanted to become a baseball player because of him. Even the day I’d been drafted by the Yankees had been bittersweet because it meant I wouldn’t get to play with him.

Jupiter Reeves was a goddamn GOAT.

I nodded ‘hey’ and went back to getting dressed.

“Okay, what’s up?”

I pulled my sneakers back on and didn’t pay any attention to whatever conversation Jupiter Reeves was having, with whomever he was having it.

He threw his bag into his locker. “Watson?”

“Eh?” My head shot up. “What?

“I’ve been in here thirty seconds, and you haven’t said a word. Normally that would be enough time for you to give me a complete rundown of your evening, and who you’d hooked up with.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Where’s chatty Cathy today?” he asked, switching out his trackpants with gym shorts. “Come on, get it out now so we can all train in peace.”

And just like that, my mood returned. I pulled my laces so tight I almost cut off the blood supply to my foot.

“What’s with you, Reeves?” I snapped, and shot to standing. “Either I talk too much, or I don’t talk enough. Make your fucking mind up.”

Jupiter’s eyes widened, likely in shock that I’d spoken to him like that, as both a senior member of the team who garnered more respect than I’d just shown, and as a guy I usually hero worshiped.

I turned to Parker, who was also staring at me with wide eyes. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going for a run.”

Snatching up my headphones, I stormed out of the locker room.

“What’s up with him?”

“It’s a long story,” I heard Parker sigh as the door nearly smacked me in the face from the force I’d used to swing it open.

After stopping to loosen my laces, I took off in a dead sprint. Wearing shades with my hat pulled low, I was going fast enough that no one noticed me as I passed through the pedestrian gates to the Lions ground, and headed along the boardwalk.

The sun wasn’t high enough yet, and the stadium rising above the Hudson was still partially blocking it, so I ran in the shadows. Billboards plastered to the sides of the stadium walls had all been renewed over the past two weeks, and now showcased this season’s twenty-six man roster. Passing by Jupiter’s poster, I could see it already had phone numbers scribbled onto it, but it was too early for the usual group of girls to be taking selfies with it.

By the time I reached Lux and Tanner’s billboards, my lungs were on fire and I was beginning to make a dent in the funk which had infected me since yesterday.

This was exactly what I’d needed: fresh New York air, and a run along the river.

Thirty minutes later, by my estimation, I’d hit the six-mile marker. I’d reached the point where I normally turned around, dangerously close to Yankees territory, only running without Parker had gotten me there way,wayquicker.

Lifting the hem of my shirt, I attempted to wipe some of the sweat dripping down my face.

“Hey, Ace.”

I turned around, pulling down my sunglasses to see where the voice was coming from.

Oh, fuck yes.

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