Page 23 of Double Play

“Yes. I’m great. Walking funny, but great.” He dared to kiss her one more time, a light brush of his lips against hers. “I guess we know one thingforsure.”

“What?” All innocence, she blinked her big blue eyesathim.

“It’ll be worththewait.”

9

Dwight didn’t usuallymind TV interviews. But when the topic was his catastrophic performance as a Friar, a root canal would be moreenjoyable.

“Dwight, how are you feeling after today’s game?” The brunette reporter from the local station wore a sympathetic look—he had no idea how genuineitwas.

“About like you’d expect. I’m embarrassed. I know I can do better, but I didn’tthistime.”

“Now that you’re getting sent back down to Kilby, do you have anything to say totheteam?”

“I want to thank the Friars for giving me a chance, and I want everyone to know I’m going to be working hard back in Kilby and hoping I get another shot at this. It’s a dream come true to play in this beautiful city. I’m sorry I didn’t measure up this time. All I can say is I’m going back to basics. Work hard, train hard, up my game. The Friars fans are the best and they deserve the best, and that’s what I want to give them if I ever get another chance. Thank you and Godbless.”

He walked away, hearing her wrap up the interview with, “That was Dwight Conner, who just experienced one of the worst Major League debuts in Friarshistory.”

Dwight ground his teeth and steeled himself to keep it together until he got somewhere private. Even though he was known as an “emotional” player—one who showed his excitement and frustration on the field—tears of shame took expression a littletoofar.

He saved those for hishotelroom.

Early the next morning, Trevor Stark took him to the airport and gave him a pep talk. “You’re better than that. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it. Keep your head high. Shit happens in baseball. I’ll see you back here before you knowit,DC.”

He also got a few texts from his fellow Catfish, but they knew better than to ride him too hard. What happened to him was just about the worst thing a player could experience. They knew to give him somedistance.

Lieberman, who’d gotten called up in his place, texted him a quick “welcomeback,man.”

“Make me proud,” he texted back after some thought. “Do better than I did. Shouldn’tbehard.”

Fucking Lieberman. Who would ever think that the boyish shortstop would get The Call after Dwight hadcrappedout?

Every step of the trip to Kilby—from the economy seat with no room for his legs, to the long drive from Houston to Kilby—he relived each humiliating moment of the three games he’d played in San Diego. Baseball experts were still busy ranking it against other similar crappystarts.

But the truth was, Dwight didn’t care about any of that. What bothered him was thinking about all the kids who looked up to him. He’d let them down. He was always talking about keeping a positive attitude and laughing through adversity. How did you laugh through somethinglikethis?

After crossing the city limits of Kilby, he steered his car toward the only place he wanted to be at thatmoment.

The damn Roadhouse. He needed a drink. He needed to unwind. He needed some femalecompany.

An image of Maggie came to mind. He’d thought about her a lot during his stint in San Diego. The memory of that kiss got stronger the more time went on—which was the opposite of what usually happened. But his attraction to her was hugely overshadowed by something else. If her program was so damn good, why had it led to such a disaster? Her model had singled him out as a player ready for a call-up and instead he’d crashed and burned like a satellite hitting theatmosphere.

Not that it was her fault. His failure was on him. He wasn’t about to blameanyoneelse.

But it might be her fault that not a single woman had caught his eye during the week he’d been in San Diego.Not a single one.That was not normal. Curly black hair and green eyes kept blockinghisview.

The next time he saw her, she was going to get a piece ofhismind.

Three Bacardi and tonics later, there she was, waltzing into the Roadhouse with Nina. Wearing a short, body-hugging black dress that made his mouth water. Laughing with Nina—two gorgeous girls out on the town, not a care in the world. Drawing every male glance in a fifty-yard radius. The Roadhouse was the kind of place that had sawdust on the floor and occasional outbreaks of line dancing. Maggie, with her slim build and east coast look, reallystoodout.

He clenched his jaw tight, then tossed back the rest of his drink. What better time to bring up his complaint withMaggie?

Ah, fuck it. Truth was, it wasn’t even about that. He just wanted to talk to her. She drew him like a dumb moth to aflame.

He intercepted them halfway across the room. “Maggie, got aminute?”

Her dark eyes narrowed as she took in his unhappy expression. “Hey, Dwight. When did yougetback?”

---