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Djuana slept hard that evening, snoring louder than Jack had ever heard her do before. He attributed her deep slumber on the rush of the past two days; slightly, but proudly, to his lovemaking. Jack, on the other hand could not get himself to fall off. He kept her on his shoulder or chest. He would kiss her head every so often as a point of security for himself as well as her.
Jack listen to the radio, gazing out of the window into the bright stars. He visualized being married to Djuana for a long time. She was not a good communicator, but she loved him, and that night he promised himself to take control of their relationship. While rubbing her soft skin and listening to her snore, he vowed to be perceptive enough to know when she was bothered, when something he was doing was bothering her.
He pictured Djuana finishing college, himself at the graduation and proud, and doing whatever her heart desired. He hoped children would be a part of her dreams; although he knew she surely wanted to get pregnant again. He could see handling their children with ease. Her gentle ways and soft heart would make her both a pushover and devoted mother in Jack’s eyes.
His face wrinkled in doubt as Kris entered into his mind. He hoped she wasn’t pregnant. He considered that his season had been one rocky challenge after another. If she did have his baby, he was going to make sure there were no problems between Kris and Djuana. How exactly? He didn’t know.
When he felt the flicker of Djuana’s eye lashes on his chest, he hoarsely said, “I bet your mother loves the way I bring so much trouble in her daughter’s life.’’
“What?’’ Djuana asked, lifting her head.
“Nothing,’’ Jack sighed.
“No,’’ Djuana stretched. “I heard you. Is that why you couldn’t sleep?’’
Djuana moved herself up to be face to face.
“You are not bringing me any troubles. My life wasn’t no bed of roses before I met you.
“And, as for my mother, she loves you because I do and she knows you love me.’’
“Does she?’’
Djuana kissed Jack’s cheek. “Yes. Baby, please don’t start doubting us. You have been the one who all this time was positive we’d make it. I’m here now. I love you with all I have. I believe we will be all right.’’
Djuana searched Jack’s eye’s. His expression didn’t relax.
“Jack, if you start doubting us, and thinking we can’t make it, we won’t. I don’t know if I am strong enough to carry us.’’
Jack closed his eyes. He couldn’t picture a fairy tale ending for them.
Djuana and Jack enjoyed his day off between games. They went to one of Los Angeles’ beautiful beaches, as far from the hotel as possible, and had a quiet afternoon. They ate sandwiches and sipped wine between dips in the Pacific. Swimming in the lukewarm water was refreshing for both of their souls. They avoided the television and the radio, even though Djuana was secretly interested in hearing Kristen Eisen confess.
Jack relaxed himself, trying to not think about that practice later that afternoon, and the media that will be there. He stood in the water, for the most part, watching Djuana gracefully navigate under the clear greenish blue water. Her legs, strong and soft, would pump her curved torso through the water as if she was raised in the sea.
Djuana saw Jack’s legs under the water, and made a beeline for them. She stopped at his waist and pulled herself up using his arms. “Why aren’t you swimming?’’
“I enjoy watching you, baby.’’
Djuana blushed. She tugged at the mid-section of his trunks. “Are you turned on, or is this a harpoon?’’
“Well, you are a pretty whale.’’
Djuana threw her weight onto Jack’s shoulders and chest. They fell backwards into the water with a huge splash.
Djuana was amazed that the beach was not crowded, all she had heard about sunny LA detailed the sandy dunes and rippling waves or gang violence. So, she assumed everybody would be out on the beaches or getting shot. Also, the people on the beach were oblivious to them.
“You think these people know who you are?’’ she asked while they laid under an umbrella in the sun.
“Nope,’’ Jack said, half sleep on his stomach. “And if they did, I’m sure they wouldn’t care.’’
“Don’t be silly,’’ Djuana smiled, leaning on her elbows, picking at her mid-length nails. “Who doesn’t like Jack Newhouse from the Portland Crowns?’’
“You want names and numbers?’’
Djuana’s grin followed her eyes down to sand. “How come you didn’t want to hear that woman apologize on TV?’’
“For what? What would it change?’’
“I heard your teammates in the lobby talking about it, they say she got fired.’’
Jack turned his head from Djuana, keeping his eyes closed.
“Were you dating her, Jack?’’
The question stabbed through his heart. He bit his lip.
Djuana dropped her head onto the blanket. Although she could not see his face, the silence told her plenty.
“I’m sorry I asked that.’’
Jack turned, sitting up on his elbow facing Djuana. He rubbed her back, sliding his hand beneath the opening of the bathing suit. Her skin was soft, but hot.
“Don’t be sorry. You wanted to know, so you should have asked. This is the deal.’’
Djuana looked up from the blanket, her eyes in the sun until she moved into the shadow of Jack’s head.
He said, calmly, “I thought Kris was a friend. I remember when she first starting working the Crowns. The guy before her had quit to go to a larger paper, and this was her big chance. She was covering us part-time, and doing golf.
“I don’t know what happened, her first week she put a lot of guys in check, including me. She was all business. Then I started hearing rumors, even though she was acting the same to me.’’
“That’s why you wanted to try her?’’
“No!’’ he frowned at her. “It wasn’t like that at all.’’
“Forget it. I don’t want to know.’’
“Yes you do. Her and I only did it once. It just happened. Yeah, it was a mistake, but I had no clue she wanted me in any way.’’
“Was I at home waiting for you? That I think I do need to know.’’
Jack looked in Djuana’s glare. He wanted to blast her with the fact that it was after she had stabbed him, but he held off. He simply shook his head. He tried to rub the black look off of her face.
“If I had had you to come home to that night, I would’ve.’’
The next evening, the Trojans and their fans were again laughing and taunting the Crowns. Portland was losing 5-0 and looking dead after seven innings. Juris was avoiding eye contact with his players. He spoke to his coaches about players that were either sitting or standing near them.
“He is a star, right? Must be,’’ Juris said as Jack selected his bat and walked up the dugout steps, grazing by Juris. “He goes out on the beach during the playoffs, not worrying that this might be our last chance to beat the Gamblers. Not worried that my job is on the line as well as his.
“No, this ass must be a star.’’
Before Jack batted, Oscar, who chose to play on his swollen ankle, hit a two-run home run and when he returned to the dugout, limping, he was greeted with hard high-fives and slaps on the back. “Let’s go, fellas!’’ O shouted, the veins in his neck bulging, while he staggered down the dugout to an open spot. “We can bust this ass, easy!’’
Jack was next up, and took a strike before ripping a hard liner into the right-center gap. He was surprised that while standing on second he could actually hear Djuana clapping and shouting his name over the sudden hush. Don worked a walk, then Mike followed with sharp single. Jack raced around third, watching the coach wave him on. He was set, in his mind and body, to run over the catcher, hurt him, if the ball beat him home. There was no throw home. Jack scored easily.
The score now 5-3, the Trojans manager changed pitchers.
Bryant Clark, a left-handed swinger, was torrid for the last month of the season. He stepped to the plate against the relief pitcher, Don was on second and Mike was dancing off of third. Bryant jumped all over the first offering. The ball hit off the right field scoreboard a second after Bryant hit it. Now, the stadium was completely silent.
The Crowns led, 6-5.
The Crowns held that lead until the bottom of the ninth. Bobby Lyles, Portland’s third pitcher that night, ran into big troubles. The Crowns closer could not put the ball over the plate. He walked two batters, then tried to groove a fastball by a good hitter. The Trojan batter ripped the pitch to Jack on two bounces. Jack snatched the ball, which was angling to his left, with his glove and twirled his body in position to throw. He was thinking third base, but when he looked there, the runner from second was just rounding past the base and heading home.
Pugs was yelling something at Jack from his cutoff spot, but Jack could not hear him because the crowd had exploded into wild cheers. Jack turned his body again, and fired the ball to home plate. Jack watched the ball, an arrow that Mike, standing in front of home plate, would catch on one bounce. It was the best throw Jack had made this season. The throw beat the runner by two steps, but when Mike tried to place the tag, his glove hit the sliding runner’s knee, and the ball squirted from his glove.
The game was tied, 6-6.
Jack was stunned. His eyes were fixed on Mike, who was glaring out to him. The chants from the crowd grew as Juris came out of the dugout. Juris took Bobby out of the game without looking at the pitcher. The hurler Juris put in, a rookie who had used impressive tools to win a spot of the Crowns playoff roster, was not up to the task. He walked two batters, forcing a run home. The rookie then threw Cris Carpenter a first pitch fastball, a league-known mistake.
Oscar did not move as the ball CC hit sailed well over his head and into the center field bleachers. Jack slowly walked to the dugout, not worrying about getting hit by the flying rolls of toilet paper. It was a long walk, giving him time to consider that the Crowns reign as league champions could be over.
Jack spent his time in LA with Djuana in the room she rented. They came off the elevator into the lobby where his teammates had gathered. The bus arrived as he and his woman approached Oscar. O was standing by the lobby’s seating area, wiping lipstick off his lips and cheeks.
Djuana chuckled, “He was happy to see me here, too. He had the room to himself and his freaks.’’
Jack elbowed her playfully. He gave O a tight handshake, and light hug.
“Hey, Djuana, you looking damn good as usual,’’ O’s smile was warm.
“Thank you, Oscar.’’
“Sorry we couldn’t win one here for you. But we’ll get them at home.’’
The players, scattered about the large lobby, were in a fair mood collectively, for the position they were in. Two more losses and their season would be over. Most of the normal folk, entering or leaving the hotel, just gawked at the stars. Some stood at the tinted windows watching players being interviewed by a television crew.
Slight and Honeywell came off the elevator with their usual entourage in tow. In their crew was the team’s business manager, doctor, and travel manager. Slight, though, had them ride on the bus with the team. He always had a limousine lead the bus. Occasionally, when he was angry, he had Honeywell ride with him.
Jack watched the men come off the elevators. His eyes fixed on the travel manager, Herb Brooke, who snapped off from the group and went to the front desk. That forced Jack to think about how he was going to get Djuana on the team’s charter flight. He knew Slight wasn’t about to bend any rules for him. So, just then, he planned to get them another flight. And to take a cab there to avoid any conflict.
Slight clapped his hands and stopped at the center of the lobby, drawing Jack, and the rest of his teammates to his presence.
“Let’s go fellows. Let’s get out of this fucked up city and get home to wholesome Portland. A real city.’’
The players stared at their owner, who was smiling, and rubbing his hands together. Slight added, “When we get home, we are going to put something on their asses, aren’t we?’’
He patted Danny’s back, which just happened to be the player closest to him. Danny patted Slight’s back, mockingly.
“What is he so happy about?’’ O asked.
“Who knows?’’ Jack replied, shrugging his shoulders.
“I’m gonna haveta get us another flight,’’ Jack blurted to Djuana.
“Why?’’ Oscar quickly injected.
Djuana knew why.
“Slight’s not gonna let us ride with the team. You know that.’’
“Why not? Man, come on. I tired of this bullshit between you and Slight. He’s going to make me hurt his old ass.’’
Djuana tugged Jack’s polo shirt. Jack turned, and followed her head and eyes. The husky, balding Slight was now among them.
“Morning,’’ he said brightly.
Jack nodded, and O mumbled.
“Good morning, Mr. Slight.’’ Djuana said. She was smiling because she knew he had overheard Oscar.
Slight’s smile widened at Djuana. “You are pretty like the day is long. And I love short nights.’’
Djuana blushed. “Thank you.’’
“You can thank me by riding in my limousine to the airport.’’
Djuana looked at Jack. He was off guard, looking puzzled.
“He don’t mind,’’ Slight said, still smiling. “He can’t kick my ass. Shit, he can’t even get a solid base hit.’’
“Oh, shit,’’ Oscar said, turning his head away.
“No, that’s okay Vinny,’’ Jack said. “We were going to catch another flight.’’
“Hogwash!’’ Slight snarled. “Are you mad? You two ’ll ride with the team.’’
His temperament changed instantly, again all teeth, as his fleshy hand took Djuana by her arm. “And, you, Honey, will ride with me to the plane.’’
Djuana’s body moved with the short, well-dressed owner, but her head looked to Jack. She stopped. “No. Maybe I should ride with Jack.’’
Slight shrugged, “If you want to. But I must tell you, they smell worse in that bus than they did on the field.’’
Jack shook his head, watching Djuana laugh. “Baby, if you want to ride in style, who am I to stop you.’’
“You sure?’’ She searched his expression for any hint of negativity. He seemed okay.
“Go ahead,’’ Jack gave her a light push.
In the enormous Iimo Slight sat across from Djuana, making her nervous. Every second, it seemed, she was fixing the straps on her royal blue sundress, trying to keep her bra from being exposed. Or, her fingers were tugging the hem over her crossed knees. She wished she had worn leggings or pants, but Jack asked her to wear the dress because her legs had a golden tan from the beach.
“Some wine, or champagne?’’ Slight asked as the vehicle pulled out and led the bus.
“No, thank you.’’
“How about some pop?’’
“Sure,’’ Djuana gave in. She wasn’t thirsty, but felt like she should accept something.
“Jack is a wonderful man, isn’t he?’’ Slight began while pouring ginger ale in a champagne glass.
“Yes, he is.’’
“He has a good heart. Never did I have to ask him to help out with the community, or volunteer his time with children in Oregon.
“He went out and did it himself.’’
Djuana nodded, sipping the cold soda.
“I watched him, on occasion, with the kids. He was great with them. Better than almost all the idiots I have on my team.’’
Djuana thought of the way kids swarmed them while out, even wanting to touch her because she was a part of their hero.
“I didn’t want to cut Jack off the team. But you see he left me no choice. I knew he loved you, but he has an obligation to his teammates.
“And, I guess you saw the whole damn city come to his aid. Portland loves him. I’m glad I didn’t trade him, they would have hanged me in Pioneer Square!’’
Slight smiled. Djuana laughed.
“Jack thinks you hate him.’’
Slight closed his eyes, frowned, and shook his head. “I was wrong. I admit that,’’ he ducked across the limo and sat next to Djuana.
“Now,’’ he pointed his thick finger at Djuana, “You don’t tell a soul this, not even Jack.’’
He slid back in the thick leather seats. “I blamed him for us not winning last year, but none of them hit. I got caught up in all the media-hype on how he should have taken control. This year he has disappointed me. He looks bored with baseball. And, that I blamed you for.”
Djuana squeezed her hand around the glass. “And, so, it’s because of me that you have been so hard on him?’’
Slight didn’t hesitate, “I don’t need ballplayers that don’t put the team first during the season. Jack doesn’t realize that many of the players look up to him. They love him because so many times he has stuck up for them on the field and off it.
“He thinks Oscar is the best player in baseball. No, Jack Newhouse is the best player in the game. He thought just because Mike was the captain of the team he ran it. No. Not at all. The players feared Mike, he’s all intimidation.’’
Djuana felt an inner pride she had never felt before; for someone else.
“You know,’’ Slight continued, “That was why Bingo was never comfortable here. He wanted the power Jack had over the players and the city. Jack is the man that controls the Crowns. We can’t win without him.’’
Jack was silent on the plane. He held Djuana’s hand, but without feeling. Djuana tried small talk, but he gave quick, blunt answers. She was the one sitting by the window, but it was him doing the sight seeing.
“Are you upset because I rode with Mr. Slight?’’
Jack blew air, and let her hand go. “Naw. Not at all.’’
“Then, what is it? You sure are acting like it pissed you off.’’
“No. I’m just realizing we won’t even get a chance to have Las Vegas bust our ass. We’re done.’’
He finally looked her in the eye, “I don’t think we will get past Los Angeles. And, then Slight is going to break up the team.’’
Djuana turned her body to face Jack. “I hate when you are negative.’’
“I’m just being real.’’
“But you guys always beat Los Angeles in the playoffs.’’
“That was when we had Cris, Bingo and Lee.’’
“Mr. Slight said differently in the Iimo.’’
“Oh, yeah. Well, what did the boss man say?’’
Djuana smiled, and snuggled into his chest.
“That you guys can beat the Trojans and the Gamblers without them.’’
“Right,’’ Jack rolled his eyes, and his head fell back.
Djuana pulled Jack’s hand to her lips, and brushed them softly on his knuckles. “And guess how he said you guys will do it?’’
“I give up.’’
“He said you are the one that can do it. You can carry the team. I believe he’s right. I see how the players all respect you.’’
“I’m not that kind of leader.’’
“Yes you are, you just never tried. I bet if you called a team meeting, everybody would come, and they would listen to you.’’
“Slight said that, right?’’
“No. I’m saying it. You can do it.’’
Jack finally gave her a smile. “I’m glad you think so.’’
“You taught me how to believe.’’