Page 14 of Playing Hard to Hate

GRIFFIN

PRESENT

I gripped the steering wheel unnecessarily tightly, thinking about how fucking awesome Tate’s ass looked in the flimsy little piece of fabric they called a bottom. I’m sure if she bent over, you’d see her asshole.

I got on the phone with my agent, Nick, the minute she pulled out of the lot and told him about the situation.

He agreed that for the safety of her image and mine, we needed to make sure they were released weeks, if not months, apart.

I was now on my way to practice as we had a huge game tomorrow, and I had to get thoughts of Tatum’s perfect hourglass figure and perky ass far from my mind.

We had won the last two games, and I wasn’t about to ruin the winning streak we seemed to be on.

Once I pulled into the stadium and drove to the underground parking garage for the players, I parked in my assigned spot.

Unfortunately for me, I was the last one here, which meant fifteen minutes of extra drills, something our team leader, Jaxon Dexter, put into effect to motivate us to be early and on time. I, of course, was ten minutes late .

“Late again, Silver,” Jaxon said, staring down at the bench as he finished lacing up his cleats, annoyed and aware I was the guy arriving late.

But he didn’t know the full story, nor should he really care.

It was unusually quiet today, and I had a feeling it was because no one was late the day before a game day.

“It won’t happen again.” I stopped in front of him, my dress shoes squeaking against the tile.

“Twenty minutes of drills after practice.” He grunted, standing up and looking down on me.

I hated the way one look from him made my skin crawl, and guilt consumed me.

He wasn’t anything like my father, and yet I respected him more than I respected myself.

He was an icon on the field and local legend around town, and I wanted to make him proud.

There were rumors floating around about him retiring and moving back to his hometown. Nothing was confirmed, but his girl just had a baby, and everyone knew this wasn’t the place to raise a child. Too much city and not enough safety.

Graham and Hunter had overheard that I might be getting his position if he did retire. Nothing was confirmed, but I made sure to play my best every game, just in case.

I mostly played center field with Graham and Hunter on left and right, respectively.

It wasn’t my favorite position in high school.

I’d been a pitcher in high school and in college too, but this was the only spot available on the Atlanta Braves, so I took it with hopes of getting back to the pitcher’s mound.

I changed quickly into my uniform, shoved my feet into my cleats, and met everyone in the dugout where Jaxon was debating with our manager. “I want to try it,” he insisted, and the coach shook his head.

“He’s not ready, and we can’t afford to lose the streak,” the old man said.

“You didn’t think I was ready either and now look at me. We’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jaxon pressed .

“Leave it, Jax. Start the drills.” The team manager walked out of the dugout and into the sun where the team owner was in his personal box with ice-cold drinks.

Couldn’t fucking stand rich assholes who felt it necessary to watch us all up close and personal while we baked away in the sun, and they sat in the shade staying cool. Nothing felt right about the situation.

We ran the usual drills, played a scrimmage, and then everyone went back into the dugout for Jaxon to hold a meeting before we were dismissed. It was brutally hot today, and I wanted nothing more than to go home and sink into the pool.

“If we win tomorrow, we’re en route for the championships.

Everyone better go home, eat a good meal, get some sleep, hell, have sex if you need it.

I need everyone fresh as a fuckin’ daisy tomorrow and ready to win.

No excuses! This is our year, and we are taking what we deserve, bring it in.

” His southern drawl came out when he was most passionate about something.

The guy behind me snorted at the sex bit. I heard someone else whisper that Jaxon’s girl was a smoke show, and they’d be fucking her all night too. I shook my head at that comment. Sometimes the guys didn’t know when to quit.

“Meetin’ dismissed. Silver, don’t forget about those twenty extra minutes.

I’ll be watchin’.” Jaxon sat down, gulped down a cold bottle of water, and looked out at the clay field where the sun beat down.

I wiped my forearm across my sweaty forehead and fixed my hat before jogging out of the dugout and started on my laps.

Jaxon joined me on the fifth one, offering me a water bottle when he reached my side. I stopped only to gulp it down and then continued. He kept my pace and didn’t say anything at first.

“You’re obedient to the core, Silver. You didn’t bat an eye when I told you to stay.”

“I was late.”

“You could have argued that I added five extra minutes. ”

“No point. I was late, and you needed to make an example.”

“I like you a lot. You got a girlfriend?”

“No. Not really my thing.”

“I thought the same thing. It was fun to party nonstop. The cleat chasers are cute for a while, but they are meaningless. They just want you for the money and a good time.” He stopped and grabbed my elbow, so stopped too.

“Can’t say I love them that much.” I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Right, that’s why your agent has you doing all those campaigns, right? I’ve seen the tabloids, Silver. I know you aren’t celibate, and no one expects you to be.”

“What’s it matter to you?”

“I’m the team leader. Everythin’ you knuckleheads do affects me.

But this isn’t why I wanted to talk. My girl is pregnant again, and I don’t want to keep raisin’ kids in a penthouse.

I’ve built her a house back in my hometown.

I’m gonna finish the season, then retire.

I’ve had my fun, made my money, and now it’s time for someone else to fill my shoes. ”

“Wow, congratulations on the baby. You’re one lucky SOB.”

“Please keep this between us. I only found out this weekend and don’t need the rest of the team knowin’.

Look, I see your potential. I went and did some research on you, and you’re one hell of a pitcher.

I think you should be the one fillin’ my position.

Coach doesn’t want to put you on the mound yet because he’s scared, but I need you to clean up your act.

No more partyin’. No more different flavors of the week.

Be on time for practice. Hell, be fuckin’ early.

Show him you’re ready for it and that you want it. ”

I gulped slowly. This was one hell of a talk.

“You want me to fill your shoes?” I asked as a loud ringing noise filled my ears. This was everything I had dreamed of, on a silver fucking platter .

“There’s no one else who I think can pitch like me. Mind showin’ me what you’re capable of?”

I nodded, at a loss for fucking words.

After just ten minutes of seeing me pitch, Jaxon grinned and told me to go home.

He’d seen enough of my capabilities and wanted me to rest up for the game tomorrow.

This was a dream come true, although not guaranteed.

So I didn’t want to get my hopes up yet or tell anyone, not even my two best friends.

Everyone had a different ritual before a game that they thought gave them luck.

Hunter liked to have sex an hour before a game, Graham liked to do yoga the morning of, and I liked to watch an episode of Shark Tank while eating a bowl of cornflakes with 2% milk.

It had to be 2%. One time, I had whole milk, and we lost the game.

The rituals were stupid and superstitious, but they were our routine.

Without them, I was sure we wouldn’t win all the games we did, not that every ritual was right.

I know some of the other players liked to hit the gym, which was stupid because an injury could happen so easily, but we all turned a blind eye to each other’s rituals and hoped for the best in the locker room.

We all crossed our fingers that everyone actually did their routine and nothing changed this morning.

It was ominously quiet in the locker room on game day.

Everyone had headphones in, and my first couple of games, I used to wonder what everyone else was listening to, if I was playing the right music.

Hunter had told me to get my head out of my ass and focus on myself.

I really liked classical music. I think it had to do with my mother and the fact that was all she played in the house on the sound system when Dad would come home at night.

It usually worked to keep the peace, but not always.

Now, at twenty-two years old, nothing calmed me like the sound of a violin or piano.

The whole way from my condo to the stadium, I listened to some variations of strings and then in the locker room it was piano.

It was thirty minutes until we were expected out on the field. Jaxon still wasn’t here. He usually showed up an hour before a game and would have given us a pep talk by now. Everyone was on edge today.

When the locker room door opened, we all turned our heads, expecting our captain to walk through. We weren’t expecting the team manager to be there with Jaxon behind him, on crutches.

“Oh, what the fuck?”

“We’re fucked.”

“This can’t be happening.”

“Fuckkk.”

“The championships…”

Everyone was freaking the fuck out, and internally, I was doing the same, but I watched Jaxon, analyzed his every move. He’d never been injured before, not from what I’d read in his stats. Something fishy was going on.

“As you can all see, Dexter is out. Silver, you’re taking his spot.

I don’t want any arguments or questions.

This was Dexter’s decision as your team leader.

Gear up and get the fuck out of here,” Coach bellowed, and everyone scrambled to grab their gear.

One by one, they headed out of the locker room, leaving Jaxon and me alone.

“What the fuck, man?” I asked, walking up to him, where he was rummaging in his locker. He pulled out his glove and handed it to me.

“Prove to me you’re worth it.” He winked and walked out of the locker room, perfectly fine.

He was gambling our chance of being in the championships on me pitching.

Outside the locker room, Logan was standing there with six-month-old Kane on her hip. He was staring at all the bright lights and reaching for the sky. Logan was anxiously shifting him from hip to hip while looking worriedly at Jaxon. She was in on it.

He hobbled over to her on his crutches, kissed her head, whispered something to her, and then kissed Kane’s head. She nodded at whatever he said and headed to the VIP section where our friends and family could sit.

“Not going with your girl?” I asked, slipping his glove on my hand and hoping I was worth everything he was risking.

“I’ll be with my team. Figured you might need some pointers.” He grinned, and we headed over to the dugout. I could hear the crowd screaming already as the announcer started talking us up, listing our stats and silly little things about us that the fans loved.

“Oh, what’s that? Jaxon Dexter isn’t playing today? He sustained an injury in training yesterday.” Collectively, the crowd gasped in shock, and then a buzz of fear swept through the stadium.

“Rookie player Griffin Silver will be filling in for his teammate. His first time on the mound, ladies and gentlemen.” There was silence at first until my picture showed up on the big screen. Then there were screams, and I quickly became the talk of ESPN.

“All right, zone them out right the fuck now. You can’t let their emotions influence you,” Jaxon said, standing in front of me as I gazed out into the crowd.

I nodded at him, and then Coach and Jaxon got us into the circle.

They gave their usual pep talk. Coach glared between Jaxon and me a few times like he, too, knew that Jaxon was fine.

The other players stepped out first, but Coach grabbed the back of my jersey.

“Don’t fuck this up, Silver. Your spot on this team depends on you getting this team to the championships.” He let me go before I could answer, and then the bright lights were on me. My name was chanted from every direction.

This was new.

I stepped up to the mound. This was my dream. I had to prove myself. I had to show my dad I was good enough. I wasn’t going to fail at being a professional athlete. I had to show Jaxon he was right for believing in me.

But most of all, I had to do this for myself and for that little girl who sat at every single one of my games as a kid. The little girl who cheered for me before I was anybody.

The one I wished was here to see me finally make it.