Page 4 of Raine Out (Grand Slam 2)

As I head to the on-deck circle, I hear Sophie yell, “Let’s go, Alex!”

I turn around to the players’ family section and nod to her. When she smiles back, I know I’ll end up going to their wedding. Despite her persistent and annoying attempts to find me someone to love, she’s become like a little sister to me. Seb’s one of my best friends—and I’d do anything for him—but I swear I’d walk through fire for Sophie. She might be the sweetest person I’ve ever met.

As I take a few practice swings, I watch Manny foul one off and then take a called strike. I want to walk to the batter’s box and punch him. It’s the bottom of the ninth, one out, tie game, Jack’s on second. Manny’s an amazing bunter, but he thinks it’s beneath him. He takes a huge swing on the next pitch and misses by a mile. He walks back to the dugout—his head down.

“Could you not at least get Jack to third for me? You’re a pitcher, asshole, not a homerun hitter. The next time you pass up a bunting opportunity in front of me, I’m going to start taking my practice swings at your head.”

“I know, I know. His fucking sinker gets me every time. I swear he puts some kind of hex on it.”

We didn’t make the playoffs this year, so these last two games of the season don’t really matter. The only thing that’s on my mind as I walk to the plate is getting Jack home, so we don’t go into extra innings. I’ve owned this pitcher all year. Jack’s fast, so I know he can score from second if I get a decent hit to right field. I take the first pitch, low and away. The next one comes in about waist high. It’s his sinker, but it doesn’t sink. I slap it down the right field line and jog to first. I turn around when I touch the base to see Jack sliding safely across home plate for the game winner.

The first base ump, Vince, slaps my back. “Thanks, Alex. I didn’t want this one to go into extra innings. You got big plans this off-season?”

“Nothing too much. I’ll head back home to see my family for about a month.” I hand my batting helmet to the batboy as he runs over to me. “And I guess I’m headed to St. John next week. Seb’s getting married down there.”

“Is that right? Good for him. I’m glad he’s locking her in,” Vince says, whistling as he looks over to the stands where Sophie’s bent over picking something up off the ground. “Her ass is—”

“Nope. Stop right there, Vince. She’s off-limits for any kind of talk. Don’t let me hear it, and damn well don’t let Seb hear it unless you’ve figured out a way to ump with two broken arms.”

He laughs as he walks away. “Loud and clear, brother.”

As I get to the dugout, our general manager’s waiting for me—like he has been every game for the last month.

“Nice job, Alex,” he says, holding out his fist. “So did you decide about our offer? We want you back, man.”

“Drew, I’ve told you about a million times, I’m not deciding until the season’s over. We have a game left, don’t we? Back off. And you really need to talk to my agent about it. You shouldn’t be talking to me directly.”

“Mrs. Morris is very interested in keeping you,” he whispers as he follows me down into the tunnel. “It’s her first big thing as the new owner of the team. She bugs me about it every second of every day. What’s it going to take to sign you? Give me a number.”

“Look, I know you’re trying to keep your job,” I say, accepting a high five from our clubhouse guard, Chick, “but I’m not thinking about it right now. You’ll know when I know. Now leave me alone.”

“Nice hit, Alex,” Chick says, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve always owned that pitcher. What’s your average against him now? It has to be over four hundred.”

“Something like that. How’s your new car driving?”

“Damn, that thing is nicer than my house.” He pauses as he looks up to the ceiling. “I still can’t believe Seb bought me a whole goddamn car. Did I tell you it has those seats that heat up?”

“Naw, man,” I say, laughing. “Do you need those in Miami, though?”

“The heat feels good on my old bones. I crank the AC to the highest level and turn on the heated seats. I swear if I don’t concentrate real hard, I’ll fall asleep driving. It’s like a massage on wheels.”

“Be careful, man,” I say as I chuck his shoulder. “You know we can’t even play a game if you’re not sitting here.”

As I walk into the clubhouse, Seb’s already coming out of the showers. He used to be the slowest player on the team. But since he met Sophie, he’s out of the clubhouse in a tight twenty.

“Thanks for preventing extra innings,” he says, nodding at me.

“Yeah, I did it just for you—so you don’t have to be away from Sophie one second more than necessary.”

“And I appreciate it.”

“Hey,” I say as he walks by me. “I’m coming to your wedding. You know I’m happy for you. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“I know,” he says, slapping my back. “You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll figure it out. And I’m glad you’re coming, man. Wouldn’t be the same without you.”

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