CHAPTER FOUR

 

The Knights stadium was packed. Fifty-thousand fans on their feet stomping, clapping, sending cat calls, some praying that their Mr. Clutch, as they called Jarrett, would bring home the players that were loaded around the bases. It was the game that could clinch their spot in the playoffs. Bottom of the ninth, two outs, full count and the Knights were tied, five to five with the Dragons.

"If anyone can bring them home, Mr. Clutch can. He's proved it time and time again," the announcer said.

"That was before the Knights stalled his contract negotiations," the analyst stated. "There may be some bad blood brewing."

"For some others, I would agree; not Bryson. He loves the game. It's all about the game. A win tonight can guarantee the Knights a playoff spot. If the Dragons hold on to their lead, a win gets them one step closer to the playoffs."

"It's the Dragons’ bad luck that Bryson made it to the plate. Here comes the pitch...the swing. Whoa.... it's going....going, it went foul." The crowd groaned, as did the announcer.

"You get the feeling he's teasing the Dragons, drawing out this at bat?" The men in the booth laughed.

Jarrett stepped back into the batter’s box. Blowing the air from his cheeks as he tried to calm his nerves.

The clinch game of the season, on their home field, came down to him. He took a look at the pitcher. He's going to send his sinker to the right. Try to jam me at the plate. The brass is going to base my new contract on this season. Not what I've done in the past. Three championship rings and they want to screw me. Swing.

Crack, the ball went foul again.

Damn.

Jarrett stepped outside of the box again, looked out to the furthest point on the field - four hundred eighty feet.

Why do I put myself through this turmoil? Because I love the game. If they paid you one dollar would you love the game any less?

The question played in his mind several times, over the last two weeks. Paige Cartwright’s smiling face tilted to the side, always followed the thought.

He looked at the ground, tapped the end of the bat on the plate, stepped back into the batter's box, raised the bat and waited.

It was a fastball, right across the plate. Jarrett’s swing was precision…the power…unyielding…the hit, right over the four hundred and eighty foot mark into the stands.

Jarrett dropped the bat smacking his hands together.

"I love this game," he chanted as he made his rounds through the bases.

The announcer was yelling, "Grand-Slam…Grand Slam. Jarrett Bryson has clinched the playoffs for the Knights like a man possessed. The crowd is in a frenzy. The entire dugout has emptied out onto the field."

His teammates stood at home plate waiting for Jarrett to touch the plate, clinching their spot in the playoffs.

"You hit the hell out of that ball man," Sergio Martinez, the catcher laughed as he gave Jarrett a high five.

"Clinch game, grand-slam. Was Miller's face on the ball when you hit it?" Ron Mackenzie, the third basemen and Jarrett's best friend joked.

Jarrett grinned. "I was thinking about a woman."

"You need to keep her around, if you’re going to be hitting grand-slams like that," Jake Weingart, the first baseman, added as the men lined up to shake hands.

Ron gave him a look. "What woman? You haven't said anything to me about a woman."

"Jarrett!" Casey Lane, the clubhouse reporter grabbed his arm as they headed off the field. "Five minutes."

At least ten cameras and microphones were surrounding him. After this, he knew another twenty or so would be in the clubhouse, then there was the post-game interview and celebration. This was part of the job. He’d known this season was going to be intense with the negotiations looming in the air. As long as things stayed positive and in house, all should go well.

"Jarrett, how did it feel a double, a triple and a grand slam clinching the playoffs for the season? Looks like you are sending a message to the front office?"

Ignoring the jab, Jarrett responded, "It felt good. The team has worked hard all season and we expected great results."

"Are you concerned with the lack of talks from the front office?"

"No, I'm concerned with winning games."

"You seemed nervous at the plate for a moment, then the expression on your face changed. What was going through your mind when that pitch came across the plate?"

"I need to hit the ball."

The reporter laughed. "You did that. Hit it rather well. Are you finding ways to keep the distraction of the negotiations from interfering with the game?"

"My job is to win games. I leave everything else off the field. Thanks for the interview."

"Congratulations on making the playoffs."

With that he walked off the field, down the steps and through the tunnel, into the locker room. There was another group of reporters waiting. Jarrett made a beeline to his locker, pulled his sweaty shirt over his head, then turned to the camera and hordes of microphones that were shoved into his face.

It's going to be a long playoff season went through his mind.

An hour later, he had finally showered, met with the press in the post-game interviews and was now on his way to Chalet’s, a club where the players hung out after the game. Sergio and Ron were already in the place, scoping out the women, when Jarrett arrived. Walking through the private entrance located on the backside of the club, he could hear the music pumping, the raised voices and the clatter of glasses. Before he took a second step into the club, he was surrounded by three women all vying for his attention.

"Good evening, ladies."

"Jarrett, I wasn't sure you were coming tonight." Jacki' who was Jacquelyn Reed from around the corner, who had added a little butt, reduced the size of her nose and had hair hanging down her back. Oh, and of course the body to kill for. He was about the only one from the team that had continuously passed on her advances. "You buying me a drink tonight?"

"Sure, drinks for all the pretty ladies." He smiled at each of them. "Where's Sergio?"

"The usual spot," Jacki' replied, disappointed again at his snub.

"Thanks Jacki', I need to catch up with the boys." He kissed her on the cheek and looked her up and down. "You are still hitting on all cylinders." He winked as he walked off.

"Great game tonight, Jarrett," he heard as he walked through the crowd.

"You brought them home tonight Jarrett," another man said as he shook his hand.

"Grand slam, whoa." Another man chest bumped him.

Finally making it to the booth he always shared with his teammates, Sergio held a beer out for him.

"The press finally let you go," he said with the accent from his homeland, the Dominican Republic.

Jarrett took a swig of his beer and shook his head. "I have no idea how I make it through the season with the same damn question over and over. How many times do I have to say it? I'm not discussing the negotiations in public."

"Man, they are going to be on you until either you give them something, or the front office does," Ron replied. "And don't think it's going to stop now that we are in the playoffs."

"No, my man." Pedro, who played for the Dragons, but was a good friend, nodded his head in agreement. "Prepare yourself, my man, until the front office signs the deal the media is not going to let up."

"I'm not dealing with them. I'll answer questions regarding the game and that's it."

"You've been in this league for years. We don't have to tell you how to handle yourself with the media," Ron cautioned. "Just know, this year you've been a beast at the plate."

"Speaking of beast." Sergio pointed then nudged Ron. "Here comes your wife."

The men at the table looked in the direction he was pointing and there was a collective moan.

"Damn." Ron shook his head and looked at Jarrett, "I'm sorry man."

Jarrett exhaled as he watched Ron's wife, Suzette Mackenzie, the ‘want to be’ superstar walking towards them. She wasn't alone. Lacy Dupree, Jarrett's most recent ex-girlfriend was with her. There were no hard feelings on Jarrett's part, however, Lacy had been under the impression that things were a lot more serious than things were. To that end she was having a little trouble letting go.

Both women were beautiful in a showroom kind of way, wearing the typical short black dress, revealing cleavage, legs and just about everything else. While Suzette was out there, ‘bam’ in your face, Lacy was a little less flamboyant and carried herself with a little more grace. They took very good care of themselves to ensure they stayed that way. At least with Lacy, she had good reason to spend the thousands monthly to keep her looks intact. She was a budding actress, who was actually pretty good. She had an impressive resume' building and Jarrett expected once she got the right role, Lacy would be on the big screen. He hoped it happened for her soon, that way her attention could be on something other than him.

"Hello, darling." Suzette bent over to kiss her husband. "Lacy and I decided to step out for the evening."

"Hi, Jarrett." Lacy smiled.

"Hello, Lacy," Jarrett replied then glanced around the room.

"Doesn’t Lacy look good tonight, Jarrett? She’s wearing the hell out of that dress," Suzette goaded with her Jersey accent.

"Yes, she does," Jarrett, agreed. "I’ve got to run. It's good seeing you, Suzette. Take care, Lacy," he said as he stood.

"Jarrett, I was wondering if you could do me a favor." Suzette followed him from the booth. "Lacy rode with me tonight and I'm not ready to leave yet. Would you be a dear and run her home? Please Jarrett? I haven't been out of the house in ages and the kids are running me into the ground. It's my first night out and I want to party." She shimmied her breasts at him, and smiled.

"I'll make sure she gets home." He turned back to the table. "Lacy, you need a ride?"

Lacy looked from Suzette to Jarrett. "If you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind. I'll make sure you get home safe." He took Lacy by the hand. "Not too late tonight fellows, we have practice in the morning."

"Night, Cap." Sergio held up his beer.

As Jarrett and Lacy moved through the crowd, there were cameras everywhere. A few flashes came his way, but he kept moving through the crowd. When they reached the private entrance, Jarrett whispered to the parking attendant, then turned to Lacy.

"My car service will be here in a minute to take you home. I'll stay until they arrive."

A disappointed Lacy looked away.

"I didn't plan this Jarrett. Suzette called and said she wanted to get out."

"I'm sure you had no idea she was coming to the club or that I would be here with Ron and Sergio as we usually are after just about every game."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't mind the possibility of seeing you again."

He nodded.

She brushed her brunette hair over her shoulders. "Do you have plans for the evening?"

"No," Jarrett replied, "I'm just going home."

"I don't have any plans either. Would you like some company?"

Jarrett stood there in his grey tailor made suit, white dress shirt and his Italian loafers, looking like the million-dollar man he was, and shook his head.

"I don't think that would do either of us any good." He gave a small smile to the woman he’d enjoyed being with more than most, but knew he could not give her what she wanted. "You know why we can't be together. You want a ring, the papers, the house and the picket fence. I don't see that happening."

She reached out, placing her hands on the lapel of his suit and looked up at him. "We could just enjoy each other like we used to, until that comes."

Taking her hands in his, he gently removed them from his chest. Holding them away from his body, he shook his head.

"As I said before, Lacy, I don't see that in the future for us." His car pulled into the tunnel area of the parking deck. "The car's here." He kissed her on the cheek as the car pulled along the curb. Reaching over, he opened the back door and closed it after securing her inside.

He watched as the car pulled away with her in the backseat and her head hanging low. It hurt him to see her like that, but he knew this was best. The white house with the picket fence with Lacy wasn't something he saw in his future. As he stepped off the curb, heading towards his car, the vision of Paige Cartwright came to mind and he smiled.

"Well, there you go." He laughed as he got into his car, but had no idea why.

Jarrett walked into his two-bedroom, forty-seven hundred square feet penthouse that had magnificent views of Central Park, the city skyline and the Hudson River from every room. The En Suite bathroom had a Japanese soaking tub that he couldn't wait to experience tonight. The bamboo flooring throughout the tastefully decorated open foyer, living room and dining room, created an elegant feel without it being cosmetic. The automatic curtains opened when he walked through the door. The skyline view of the city lights always welcomed him home when he opened the door. He loved coming home. Clubbing was a fun way to release some of the stress of the day and hang out with his teammates, but coming home, well this was his sanctuary.

Dropping his keys in the tray on the credenza in the foyer, he walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a drink. One of the amenities of the building was the concierge service that kept the refrigerator stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables, hot meals in the warmer on home game nights and a supply of various beverages. Pulling the meal from the warmer, he removed the cover to find roasted chicken and a melody of mixed vegetables. He sat at the table then clicked the remote to turn on the television. ESPN was showing highlights from the game. He switched the channel, preferring not to listen to the hype, sooner or later he would start believing it and that would stop him from doing his best. At least that was his philosophy. His phone rang just as he began eating.

"Hey, Pop. What's up?" he answered.

"Just checking on you, son. You played a good game tonight."

His parents never failed to tell him that, just as they never failed to tell him when he was not giving one hundred percent.

"Your mother wants to know if you have eaten dinner and if it included vegetables?"

Jarrett could only laugh. "She would ask that."

His parents, Frank and Connie, still lived in Marietta, Georgia where he grew up. They weren't rich, but they weren’t bad off either. His father was a financial advisor, which provided well for him and his two sisters. They were fortunate to have had a stay at home mom who had seen to their every need. However, he and his sisters, Faith and Autumn, were raised in a strict environment. Only their best was expected from them. If their best was a C in math, then that was fine, but slouching was not allowed in their household. Bryson's, as his father was called by many, baritone laughter came through the line. "You know I had to ask or your mother would be calling you next. You’re not out with the boys celebrating?"

"I was out for a minute, but Lacy showed up and I thought it was best that I leave."

"She’s still trying to hold on, son. Be careful with that one."

"I'm keeping my distance, Pop."

"Finding that right one is never easy and it’s more difficult in your profession. You are surrounded by people trying to be something that they are not. Be patient. Wait for that one who makes you smile just thinking of her. Now tell me, how did that grand-slam feel?"

The nightly conversation lasted for another thirty minutes while Jarrett ate his dinner. Afterwards, he jumped in his Japanese tub, soaked the stress of the day away, and then climbed into bed. The view of the city encased two walls of the room. Pushing the button on the nightstand next to the bed, the drapes in the room closed out the city lights. As Jarrett closed his eyes, the smiling face of Paige Cartwright invaded his mind.