Page 8 of Raine Out (Grand Slam 2)

Alex

When I get in the shower, I let the hot water stream over me—trying to melt away my bad attitude. I’ve been in a foul mood for months. My thirtieth birthday’s coming up, and I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything I wanted to get done in my twenties. I mean, yeah, I’ve played in the majors for eight years, been an All-Star, won a few Gold Gloves, but that’s baseball stuff. I have so much more I want to do.

Unlike most major-league players, I came into the league after graduating from college. Eventually, I want to go to law school, but I can’t seem to pull the cord. I’m scared to quit the league, scared to try something different, scared that I’m going to fail at something. I haven’t failed at much in my life, but not because I’m better than anyone. It’s because I don’t put myself out there. I’ve only done what comes easily to me.

My contract with Miami expires this season. They’re worried that I want to become a free agent to get a more lucrative contract with another team. That’s not the issue. I don’t want to play for another team. My problem is that I don’t know if I want to play at all anymore. Physically, I could play for another decade, but I know down deep I’m ready for something else. Everyone’s going to flip out if I retire in my prime—especially my dad.

I’m thinking about all of this as I walk out of the shower. Our beat reporter, Ray Franklin, is sitting by my locker “Getting near a hundred RBIs. That’s something else for a leadoff hitter.”

“Thanks, Ray. The bottom half of our lineup does a great job of getting on base to give me the chance to hit them in—”

“You never take the credit,” he says, shaking his head. “For once, I want you to say, ‘Yeah, I make this team work. It would be nothing without me.’ Speaking of, when are you going to sign your contract?”

“Nice segue, Ray. Can I at least get dressed before you pepper me with the same damn question you’ve been asking me for half the season?”

“You can,” he says, looking at me over his glasses. “And I’ll stop asking when you finally answer it.”

Even though I take my time getting dressed, the media’s still surrounding my locker when I turn around. I avoid answering questions about my contract for about ten minutes and then wave them away. Manny walks over to me—his hands in the air.

“Are you finally done, princess?” he yells. He’s been pacing behind the media scrum for at least five minutes. “You know I have to get home before Caroline sends out a search party.”

“Quit talking to those Instagram women and she’ll stop tracking your every move.” I grab my bag out of the locker. “You gave her your password. You know she sees every DM you answer.”

“You make it sound like I gave her the password voluntarily. She forced me. And I’m just being polite to my fans by answering their questions.”

“Yeah, I’m guessing all your fans don’t have the response rate that the pro-ho group has.”

He gets closer and whispers, “You see them in your DMs. Some of the stuff they say—and the pictures they send—damn, it’s hard to resist answering. I’d never take it further, though. Caroline knows that.”

“I don’t look at my DMs. I barely look at social media at all. And I can’t believe Caroline’s okay with you talking to those women like you do.” I follow him out of the clubhouse. “If she is, she shouldn’t be. That’s all kinds of disrespectful.”

“Worry about your relationship.” He stops and turns around. “Oh wait, that’s right, you can’t get any woman to tolerate you for more than a night.”

His phone rings. He holds it up to me. It’s Caroline calling on FaceTime.

“Hey, honey,” he says, pointing the camera at me. “Princess took his time getting ready again. Sorry. We’re leaving now.”

Caroline’s glaring at the camera. “Do a pan so I can see that you’re still at the stadium.”

Manny spins the phone around—stopping when he gets to our teammate Dane. “Tell Caroline I’m still at the stadium.”

Dane blows her a kiss. “Caroline, I’ve told you before, you’re the only one who’s attracted to him. There’s no need to be jealous.”

She snorts. “Turn the camera back to Alex. Did you make up your mind about Seb’s wedding?”

“I’m going,” I say, frowning into the camera.

“Good. Manny’s always more fun when you’re around.” Manny rolls his eyes behind the camera. “Do you need a date? My sister wants to go.”

“No, I don’t need a date and I don’t want one.” I grab the phone from Manny and growl at Caroline. “If she shows up again, I won’t let her on the plane. It was so awkward when you ambushed me with her on the New York trip. I’m serious, Caroline. She’s not invited.”

“Come on, Alex. She’s not into you like that. She just wants a free trip to St. John.”

“I don’t care,” I say, handing the phone back to Manny. “I’m serious. If she’s there, I’ll feel like I need to take care of her. Don’t bring her.”

Manny holds the phone up to me again so I can see her pouty face. “She’s going to be really upset. She’s already packed.”

“That’s on you, Caroline.” I point at Manny. “Talk to your wife. I swear, if her sister shows up again, I’m not boarding the plane.”

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