“He paid me to say it to the cab driver who brought him here,” Tag said.
“Christ, Dad.”
“Sorry, but the guy was a real prick.”
“Prick,” Tag repeated.
Wade pulled out his wallet and handed Tag a ten.
Tag pocketed the money and when it was out of sight, he asked “What was that for?”
“To
“Sweet.”
“Got any for me?” his father asked, palm out.
“No. You’ve bled me dry.” He pointed at Tag. “Behave yourself.”
“Okay. So are you going to go out, too? Like Aunt Sam?”
Wade’s world stuttered to a halt. “What?”
John fake coughed and said, “You snooze, you lose,” at the same time.
“Dad, a moment?” Wade jerked his head toward the kitchen.
“Can’t. Sorry. Very busy.”
“Now.”
John sighed and rose to his feet, meeting Wade in front of the stove. “This isn’t my fault. This time it’s
“Where is she?”
“Don’t know.”
Wade gave up on him and went to Tag. “Do you know how to reach your aunt?”
“Uh-huh. I always know, on accounta’ we’re family,” he said, clearly repeating back Sam’s words verbatim.
“Okay, good. So…?”
Tag slid him a sly look. “So now it’s okay to tell a secret?”
Tag just looked at him.
“Sorry, man, but no more cash tonight.”
Tag sighed. “I can call her and she’ll come back. She told me to call her if I needed anything, that she’d be here in a jiffy.”
Which was no help for Wade. “Same goes for me, kiddo. You need me, you call. Anytime, okay?”
“ ’Kay.”
With one last long look at his father, Wade headed out. Stopping in front of his car, he reached into his pocket for his keys and glanced at the window of the Italian restaurant across the street.
Sam was sitting inside at a table near the window. She was with a man, talking animatedly, and laughing. Then the man reached over and kissed her right on the lips, and Wade abruptly shoved his keys back in his pocket and strode inside.
Sam looked up as he got to their table, still laughing at something the man with her had just said, her eyes widening in surprise. “Wade.”
“That was quick,” Wade said, surprised that his voice sounded normal since he felt like his guts had just been ripped out.
The man sitting across from Sam, the one who was going to lose his face to Wade’s fist if he kissed her again, smiled and leaned back in his chair, studying Wade thoughtfully. “I think you were wrong about him, babe.”
While Wade chewed on the endearment
“No,” she finally said cryptically. “I wasn’t wrong.”
The man squeezed her fingers and brought them to his lips. Wade nearly leaned across the table to break his wrist, but Sam shook her head. “Ernie, stop it.”
“Aw,” Ernie said on a smile. “You’re no fun.”
And since he didn’t
Ernie laughed silkily as he let go of Sam and slid her a look. “How about now? Still going to try to tell me he’s happy it’s over?”
“Ernie…” she warned.
“Fine.” He stood and held out a hand to Wade. “Ernie Rodriquez. Nice triple homer in Chicago.”
“Thanks.” Wade felt Sam watching him with a look he couldn’t begin to comprehend, and he met her gaze.
“Ernie and I were putting finishing touches on the charity dinner,” she said. “Ernie’s catering.”
“My first over-three-hundred-person event.” Ernie grinned. “Looking forward to seeing you in a tux, big guy.” He patted Wade’s arm, lingering at the biceps, letting out a hum of pleasure before walking into the kitchen.
Wade stared after him until Sam cleared her throat. He looked down at her.
“You look confused,” she said.
“A little.”
“Poor baby.” She stood, gathering files and pictures and her BlackBerry, shoving them into her briefcase. “Let me give you the short version. First you dumped me, then you see me out with another man and come charging in here to… Well, I don’t know what exactly, but you end up getting hit on by the very man you wanted to protect me from. I can see why you’d be confused, seeing as you’ve acted like a complete ass.”
“Wait a minute.” He shook his head. “I didn’t dump you. You dumped me.”
She made a sound that managed to perfectly convey what she thought of his intelligence level, and walked out of the restaurant.
He followed.
“Fine,” she said. “I dumped you. A minute before you could dump me. It was self-preservation.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t have time to explain it to you. I’ve got to go.” She gave him her professional smile, the one that was chilly enough that he suddenly needed a coat. And then left him standing on the sidewalk wondering what the fuck had just happened as he was ogled by Ernie from the restaurant window.
Not surprisingly, the next day Wade played like shit. He had no explanation for why he struck out twice, missed an easy fly, and overthrew to third, causing two runs, which was the exact number they lost by.
No explanation at all. Everything was fine.
The guys didn’t say much to him as they left the field, though their bafflement was clear. Wade was usually the rock, the motivator, the go-to guy. He didn’t have off days, he didn’t let anything get to him.
“You sick?” Henry asked him.
“You sure? You’re flushed. Maybe you’re coming down with something.”
Joe nodded. “Tea, man. Try chamomile.”
“Or Earl Grey,” Henry said. “You need to be on tomorrow.”
Wade nodded. He’d be on.
Or dead.
He wasn’t sure which. But the ball of anxiety, frustration, and temper sitting on his chest had to go away or explode. That simple. He was self-destructing. He’d self-destructed with Sam by letting her believe it was only great sex, by not letting her know what she meant to him. He’d self-destructed with his dad by holding back when the guy was trying, finally giving all he had. It should have been easy to hurt John O’Riley. Instead, it left Wade feeling sick inside, because it was one thing to hold on to his self-righteous anger when his dad was being a drunk.
It was another entirely when his dad was being a remorseful ex-drunk.
Pace slung an easy arm around Wade’s shoulders, slowing him down, separating him from the rest of the team. “What was that?”
“No idea.”
