Page 99 of West Bound

“I’ll send Bishop to get this stuff tomorrow,” he says, then opens the door and walks out.

Better now than later, I tell myself. Again and again and again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

PHOENIX

“LOVE” - Kendrick Lamar (feat. Zacari)

It’s been two and a half days since I walked out of Vivian’s door and even longer since that horrible day at the hotel. I look like shit, I feel like shit, and I am most definitely playing like shit.

I couldn’t get out of my head the entire road series, and ended up throwing my worst game ever. I couldn’t see the batters box or even Cisco throwing counts. The only thing that stayed on repeat was the look on Vivian’s face when she walked into the room behind whomever that crazy ass bitch was, and saw me naked while the stalker talked to me like we knew one another.

I swear I had never seen that woman in my life. I may have slept around quite a bit, but if I were friendly enough to give a chick the name Arizona East, I would remember her. Especially since Vivian is the only woman to ever know about that.

Coach really ripped me a new one after that game. I didn’t tell him anything other than it was an off night, and luckily none of my teammates did either. They knew better than to rat out of your own, even if it was to coach. It also helped that Tuck and Philo put everyone on blast not to say a word about what happened.

Those two really cared about Vivian, and me I suppose, so I really owe it to them for helping me keep this all under wraps. But after my second shitty game, coach is bound to get to the bottom of it.

And I’d like to get to the bottom of who and how that chick got into my room. What fucking timing. I don’t think she knew about Vivian coming at that exact moment since I was under the impression she’d be late, so someone had to have known either Vivian’s or my whereabouts to tip this woman off. And I’m going to find out who…then rip their fucking spine out.

Bishop was kind enough to help me get my few things from Vivian’s the next day while I waited outside, staring at the door that I thought I’d be going in through every night. I know Bish felt bad for me. He’d never seen me looking like a lost puppy dog. He’d seen me upset and angry when my pops died, but this heartbroken and lost version of Phoenix West is one that has never appeared before.

“Brotha, I believe you. I’ve never known you to be a liar. You just gotta give Viv a little time to cool off, then we’ll help you smooth things over. You’ll be calling my ass to help you hang a giant tv in no time.”

I’m not quite as confident as Bish is. He wasn’t at the hotel. He wasn’t at her house to see the look of finality in her eyes. He didn’t see her fear when I punched a hole through the wall. He didn’t see my heart crumble to dust.

I’ve been sitting on a text for the last twenty-four hours, wavering between sending and erasing it. I suck down the last of my bourbon and before I can talk myself out of it, I hit send.

Me: Viv, baby. I need you to listen to me. Please. Whatever you think happened, didn’t. I swear to you, I had no idea who that woman was. I still don’t. But I know for sure that I did not invite her to our room. I would never hurt you that way. I love you, Peaches. Please talk to me so we can fix this. I miss you. I need you. I’m miserable without you. Vivian…please.

I sit and stare at the screen for the next thirty minutes until the text shows ‘read’. Then I wait for the godforsaken text bubbles to appear to tell me she's' responding…but they never come.

So I continue to stare and wait, and stare and wait, until the clock strikes two a.m. and I give into the drunken stupor and sleep.

“West. In here. Now!” Coach yells into the locker room after batting practice and I take a deep breath before dragging my feet to his office.

I come to stand in the doorway, like a kid standing at the threshold of the principal’s office, and ready myself for whatever is headed my way.

“Come in and shut the door,” he instructs.

I do as he says and sink down slowly into my seat. I flatten my hands on my thighs and flex my fingers into the skin.

Coach looks up at me, disappointment in his eyes, and says, “what the fuck is going on with you, West.”

“Coach, I–”

“That wasn’t a question,” he says and I scratch my head because I could’ve sworn that it was. “You look like dog shit when you walk in every day, your pitching is off, you’re starting fights with other teams–I get the one with Manny and Rami–but what’s your excuse for the others?” I sit in silence wondering if this is another one of those ‘not a question’ questions. “That was a question.”

Okay, then.

“I know I’ve been off, coach, and I’m sorry. It’s just…my girlfriend and I broke up and there’s a huge clusterfuck over the events that led up to it and to be honest…it fucking hurts.” My nose begins to sting and, oh shit, are those tears in the back of my eyes?

Is this what love does to you? Brings your feelings to the surface?

Coach steeples his hands on his desk. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? The little reporter broke up with you and now you’re flushing your season down the drain because of it? Man the fuck up, West, and move on. Find someone else to get under you and get your head in the game.”

“It’s not that easy. I don’t want anyone else. This shit has fucked with my head and I-I don’t know how it happened. One minute she’s asking me to move in with her and the next, some crazy ass chick breaks into my room and says I invited her with Vivian right on her heels! But I didn’t. Someone set me up and–”

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