July 2008

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Vero Beach, Florida

Gord’s eyes fluttered open.

The blinding pain of a tequila hangover made blinking a Herculean task. Lying on his side, he tried to prop himself up with his right elbow. He failed miserably, flopping back down on the thin motel mattress. At the moment, Gord’s fine motor skills were non-existent.

He heard a contented sigh beside him. He slowly turned his head in the direction of the sound and noticed the unmistakable curves of a female form underneath the bedsheet.

Gord panicked. Who the hell is that?

He remembered nothing from the previous night except that he, in a drunken haze, stupidly thought that the best way to not get drunk on tequila was to drink more tequila. In hindsight, that might not have been the brightest decision.

He struggled to an upright position and peered through the darkness at Danny’s bed. It was occupied by his roommate and another female body. Something bright in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

At the foot of Danny’s bed, draped across the wooden chair padded with blue polyester, was Miss Duke’s unforgettable yellow spaghetti-strap top. So, the case of Danny’s mystery woman was solved, but Gord still had no idea who was bunked next to him.

He fumbled with the bedside alarm clock, trying to see what time it was, when a voice called out next to him.

“Good morning!” The mystery woman cheerfully chirped.

“Hey … you?”

“I’m surprised you’re up already, after last night,” she purred, reaching suggestively out to Gord underneath the covers.

It was at this moment that Gord realized he was naked. Jane Doe then mistook a regular, morning physiological occurrence as a sign of intense desire. She climbed on top of him, while Gord attempted to wriggle away.

“Since when are you so shy?” Jane Doe asked demurely.

“Uh, well, I don’t want to wake them up,” Gord feebly replied.

“You didn’t seem to mind last night.” She nodded toward the other bed. “In fact, you kept asking Jenn to join us.”

Gord’s clouded mind couldn’t comprehend the conversation.

Who is Jenn? And what is this woman’s name? Wait. Jenn. Jenn. The other bed? Jenn must be Daisy Duke! So, this must be one of her friends from last night.

The still nameless woman moaned as she sat down on Gord’s manhood. The bed squeaked surreptitiously as she writhed above him. Gord grabbed her wrists, intent on stopping the proceedings. Jane Doe mistook it a signal to play rough. She rode him harder and harder and pinned Gord’s hands behind his head.

Gord was unable to resist and rose up to meet her. They bounced up and down. Up and down. She dug her fingernails into his chest and stifled a scream. Up and down. Up and down, until they collapsed in ecstasy.

Eventually their breathing returned to normal rhythms. Lying on his chest, Jane Doe looked up at Gord and remarked, “I’ve never been with a professional athlete before. When are you guys back in town next?”

Fuck. A groupie. “Uh, well, I’ll have to check the schedule. It might not be for a while,” he replied, hoping she would take the hint and change the subject.

“Oh. Okay.” She tried to hide her disappointment. “Can I make a call?”

“Sure.”

She climbed over Gord and grabbed the phone on the nightstand. “Jenn, wake up. I’m calling for a ride.”

Jenn stirred slightly, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. Danny didn’t move. This was also one of his ploys. The morning after a sexual conquest, he always pretended to be passed out to avoid an awkward goodbye. This would inform potential clingy or needy women that he was interested in nothing more than a casual sexual dalliance. Usually, the girls just got fed up trying to wake him and left without a word. Childish and immature? Yes. But extremely effective.

As Gord’s new friend waited for the line to make a connection, Jenn sat down on the bed next to her, trying to locate her clothes. They were both stark naked and seemed completely at ease in their natural state. Their slim, gorgeous bodies glistened in the darkened motel room.

Gord surveyed the situation and couldn’t believe his good fortune. He stifled a smile. God, I love being a ballplayer.

“Hey Tim, it’s Jess. Can you pick Jenn and me up? We’re at the Week Inn on Ocean Drive. Room 232. Thanks. See you soon.”

“Who was that?” Gord inquired.

“My fiancé. He’s coming to pick us up.”

“Oh, okay.” Gord’s mind didn’t register her last sentence. “Your what?”

“My fiancé.” Jess replied matter-of-factly.

Immediately, Gord’s headache cleared, but it was replaced by a deep sense of foreboding at the prospect of getting his ass kicked by a jilted lover.

“Why did you come back with us if you’re engaged?” Gord tried to keep his composure.

“Why not? We’re not married. I wanted to have some fun.”

Gord was baffled. The logic of a groupie never ceased to amaze him. Jess’s cavalier attitude toward the entire situation did little to calm his frayed nerves.

“You two have to leave. NOW.” He moved quickly around the room collecting their things.

“Why? It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, your fiancé might think otherwise. If he tries to come in here and Danny somehow gets hurt, I might as well kiss my career goodbye. He’s the bonus baby. If something happens to him, the front office will literally kill me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Tim’s not big. He’s smaller than you.”

“Listen sweetheart, I’m a pitcher. I can’t throw a punch with my left hand, so unless Timmy lost an arm in ’Nam, this ain’t happening. You two are out of here.”

Gord got the women dressed and hurried them out the door in less than five minutes. As Jess and Jenn walked down the second floor balcony, a midnight-black pickup truck peeled into the motel parking lot.

Gord pressed his nose against the window and watched the scene unfold below. From his vantage point tucked behind the musty drapes, he could see that the fiancé was not happy and kept gesturing toward the balcony. He made a start toward the staircase. Gord quickly scanned the room for some type of weapon. He spied the lamp sitting on the nightstand.

Jenn and Jess tried to block Tim from accessing the second floor. The girls were waving their arms wildly, and Tim appeared to be shouting, visibly upset. It was like watching a theatrical production of Jerry Springer.

Luckily, calmer heads eventually prevailed as the ladies, and a concerned motel manager, coaxed Tim back into the truck. Gord breathed a deep sigh of relief, cursing the Patron that led to such a stressful morning.

“Guys, you should have seen Gordo, peeking out the window from behind the curtains. He was scared shitless. I thought he was gonna piss his pants!”

The team laughed uproariously as Danny regaled them with his version of that morning’s excitement. Johnson held court in the middle of the aisle on the bus ride back to Lakeland. Gord sat silent in his seat and shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. He knew he had looked ridiculous. His only mistake was allowing a blowhard like Danny to witness it.

“For a guy who can lift so much weight, you seemed pretty worried about that guy kicking your ass,” Danny continued, baiting his roommate.

“Actually, I was more concerned about him grabbing your little buggy-whip noodle arms and tossing you out the window,” Gord retorted with a cocksure smile.

“Well, this noodle arm can throw ninety-eight. Yours couldn’t dent aluminum siding.”

The guys howled with laughter as the insults jumped back and forth like a Wimbledon Final. Gord and Danny were at the top of their games because, as roommates, they had intricate knowledge of each other’s idiosyncrasies.

“Okay, enough about this shit. I want to hear details from last night. How were the broads?” Steve Anderson inquired.

Danny, bashful as always, piped up first. “I literally ran out of things to do to that chick. She was awesome. I want to make her my Vero Beach regular.”

“Well, you spent enough money on her. Your dick owes your wallet a present,” JR Coltrane quipped. “What about you, Gordo?”

“I have no idea — I don’t remember a thing from last night. I didn’t even know we slept together until she told me this morning.”

“Really?” Chris Seaboard asked incredulously. “You should have seen yourself in the bar with her. We actually thought you two were going to fuck on the dance floor. The bouncer tossed both of you.”

“You’re shitting me?” Gord put his head in his hands. “I’m not drinking with you assholes again. I’m getting too old for shots.”

“I’m serious,” Seaboard continued. “She had her legs wrapped around you and your tongue was down her throat. He told you guys to stop or leave and get a room. So you left.”

“Jesus.” Gord looked at his roommate. “You’re a bad influence, Danny Boy.”

“Well it’s about time you stopped acting like such a pussy and came out partying with us.”

“Gentlemen!” Tom Conrad’s voice cut through the air, and twenty-five sets of eyes focused on their manager at the front of the bus. “We’ve lost six of seven. That is unacceptable. We’ll be back at the stadium in twenty minutes. We’re going to do some running; lots of running. And we will run until I think this club’s attitude has changed. Too many people here are consumed by their own stats. This is a team game, gentlemen. And we will run as a team.”

The laughter immediately ceased and was replaced with groans. There’s nothing baseball players hated more than running. Most of them had specifically chosen baseball as their sport of choice so they wouldn’t have to run.

The five Wildcats who had gone out the previous night were now cursing that decision. Depending on Conrad’s mood, there was an excellent chance the tequila would make another appearance, but this time it would be going out the way it came in.