Page 150 of The Future Play

I rub my hand over my forehead, and he leans against the counter, staring at me.

“So, why are you drinking at ten in the morning?”

“Because everything is fucked.”

“So why not fuck it up more?”

I shrug. Because everything feels worthless at this point.

Next thing I know, Aaron is standing in front of me, shaking me by the shoulders.

“You know, someone told me once that you can’t just let life happen and give up. You have to fight. For baseball. For your girl. For yourself.”

I remember the words so clearly. I didn’t say them exactly like that because it was framed by Aaron’s experience and how he’d been acting, but that was the sentiment. It was the morning after the Christmas party where I met Amanda. Aaron had been drinking at the party, and I remember thinking I never wanted to be the guy who used alcohol to drown my pain. Glancing at the glass in the sink, I realize how deeply I’ve failed and how unimpressed the younger version of me would be—hell, even the version of me from earlier this summer would hate who I’ve been lately.

“I wasn’t in the mood to listen that morning, but your words still struck a chord, so let me remind you of the most important ones. Get your shit together, Jame. You’re better than this.”

He’s right. Past me was right.

This is not who I am or who I want to be.

“Where do I go from here?”

He clamps his hand on my shoulder. “Start with the baseball stadium. Stop trying to fix everything at once and focus on one thing. Since you’ve got to pitch in six hours, I’d recommend that be baseball.”

I let out a pathetic laugh. “Thanks for coming down here.”

“We show up for each other. We always have. Plus, I wasn’t going to miss a chance to call you on your shit.”

This time my laugh is fuller. “I’m glad you’re here. You staying for the game?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

I blow out a breath. I’m a mess, but I have to start somewhere if I’m going to clean it up. As much as I want to wave a magic wand and fix things with Amanda, there’s work I need to do on myself before I’m ready to show up for her and be the man she deserves.

I knockon Marc Demoda’s door, ready to eat yet another slice of humble pie.

“Come in.”

I walk in, expecting to be on the receiving end of a snarky comment or maybe a smack to the back of the head.

“Jamie. How are you?”

I stop wincing and look at him. He’s standing next to his desk looking genuinely concerned.

“Honestly, not great. It’s been a rough few days, but that’s my own doing. I wanted to apologize to you personally for my behavior lately, both on and off the field. I didn’t cheat on Amanda. I—just got drunk and acted like an idiot.”

He… laughs. “Welcome to major league baseball. You’ve had your first scandal. It’s a rite of passage.”

“You’re not mad?”

Again, he laughs. “You’ve never looked me up, have you? Let’s just say I’m no stranger to bad press.”

“So… I don’t need to be worried?”

“Worried about what?”

“My place on the team. Being traded or sent back down to the minors?”

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