Chapter 4

Today …

"You know, I didn't think I'd ever say this, but I'm proud of you, Luke. Five months without any negative headlines in the press – and your mom was only here during three of the five, to keep an eye on you."

Wesley slapped him on the shoulder with a melodramatic flourish. "Watch out, or you'll buy a house in the suburbs in no time, in the area with the good schools, so you can have kids!"

Sure. Luke would start looking tomorrow. After he'd bashed his own brains in with a baseball bat.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back in his chair. "Was that it, Wes? You summoned me here to tell me you're proud of me? Or did you merely want to ask me whether our periods are finally synched, and we deserve the ‘best friends forever' badge?"

He grinned. "I can't even make fun of you anymore, huh? You've become such a diva! This was meant as a genuine praise."

Luke snorted. "If that is the case, I can hurry home now, and paste a gold star in my praise booklet. Right next to our ‘best friends forever' badge."

He rose and pushed the chair under the table with a lot of unnecessary noise. He'd spent the last six hours running around the diamond like a madman, and giving autographs to little kids, whenever he had a break. Now he wanted to get to his apartment, take a shower, and never get up again.

"Wait a sec," Wesley called him back.

Luke turned around, his impatience plain to see. His agent was sitting on the edge of the desk in his expensive Hugo Boss suit, and for a brief moment, he looked like a young Will Smith, ready to delete his memory, so he couldn't tell anyone about the aliens he'd seen.

"There really is something else I wanted to talk about."

"Then why don't you finally open your otherwise big mouth?! I want to go home."

Wes cleared his throat. "Okay, I'll make it quick: Are you aware of the fact that your contract with the Delphies will run out once the season is finished?"

Luke nodded. Of course he knew that. He might detest figures, but that didn't mean he couldn't remember a simple date.

"What are you getting at?"

"Well. It depends on the current season, whether they'll renew your contract or not, right? And I don't mean to offend you, man, but last year wasn't too great. I also need to know whether you want to stay at all, or whether you're thinking about switching teams? You'd have a few options as a free agent. I have several lucrative offers already … and apart from your dad, there's nothing here to keep you."

Luke closed his eyes and groaned. "Do we have to go into this today, Wes? I'm already emotionally exhausted, after you've finally granted me the ‘best friends forever' badge …"

"Stop it with your stupid badge, Luke! This is serious!"

But that was exactly Luke's problem.

He tended to avoid the serious stuff. The past weeks had been bad enough, with his mother bunking in his apartment. Nothing could be more serious than a woman who asked him if he would ever settle down and have children.

"Wes, I'm really not in the mood for this now."

His agent raised his hands defensively.

"I simply wanted to make you realize that you should give your best, so you will have the best possible options. You should have the opportunity of choosing, and that only works if you play really well."

Luke gave him a dark look. As if he didn't know that!

"Wes, I know that the last season was rather underwhelming. I'm well aware that my strikeout rate has fallen, and my curveball was lousy. I don't need a whining agent to tell me, because he fears that his bonus might go down the drain."

Luke put himself under a lot of pressure already, and the press always made sure to pile their expectations on top of that. He certainly did not need Wes stabbing him in the back now.

"Well, it's a damn large bonus …"

"Wes!"

"Alright, alright. Jesus, you really are sensitive today! We'll talk about it later. I didn't mean to give you a hard time."

"Forget it. You'd better save all your hardness for your woman anyway."

Luke twirled the car keys round his fingers. "And don't worry. I'm fit and I'm well-prepared, ready for the season to begin next week. That is all I can do, right?"

"Of course. I'll still forward you the offers from the other teams in an email, okay? Nothing wrong with taking a look at what's on tap."

Luke nodded. He actually liked Philadelphia. He liked the team, he liked the coaches, and he liked the fact that his father lived right around the corner. But Wes was right – it would be stupid not to at least take a look at the other offers. "You do that. I'll call you again in a few days … and if not, I'll see you at your wake next week, won't I?"

Wes snorted. "Getting engaged doesn't mean that you have one foot in the grave."

Their opinions on this subject differed. "Yeah, yeah, sissy boy, whatever you say. But your engagement party is still on, isn't it? Or have you already managed to scare Michelle away?"

His friend grinned. "That's not going to happen, my dear. You're just waiting for me to make a mistake, so you can make your move."

Luke shrugged his shoulders. "Hope is the last thing to die."

"I can tell you one thing: If you try to hit on her, you're the first one to die. I don't care what happens to hope."

Luke laughed out loud and went to the door. "I want to see you try to kill me."

"Oh, I know that you're nothing without your bat."

Luke grinned at him. "You tell that to yourself, buddy … but my bat is bigger than yours"

***

"You know, I'm flying to Philadelphia on business. I'm starting a new job there."

The man next to Emma raised an eyebrow and remained silent.

"I work for a leading event management agency. More More Events, does that ring a bell?"

The second eyebrow followed.

"Well, in any case, I've just been transferred! It's only for a few months, mind you, but … that's such an amazing opportunity for me – and such a lot of responsibility! I'm going to be the boss, more or less … I've never been the boss of anything. My sister used to be the boss, because she is the older one, the prettier one. But anyway, she lives in the region as well."

The man grunted grumpily, rummaged through his bag, which lay crumpled at his feet, and then he put headphones over his ears.

Oh. Right. She was on a plane, and nobody was interested in her life.

But she was so very excited! The past years had been one of the best in her life so far. She had gotten her dream job, had come one step closer to her dream of starting her own business, and she had begun to forgive men for the fact that their brains were located in their pants. She hadn't forgiven them enough to be ready for a new relationship, but it was a start.

Nothing could throw her off the track now.

The plane bucked a little, and Emma flinched.

"Creepy, them planes, huh?" she turned to her neighbor again. "If God had wanted us to fly, he'd have given us wings, don't you think?"

The man put a sleep mask over his eyes.

Emma was beginning to think that he didn't really want to talk to her. This would be a long, long flight.

***

It was a start, Luke thought as he took a towel to his hair and rubbed it dry. A few strands were always in the way. Six-to-three was a solid victory, and solid was something he could work with.

The changing room was stuffy, but the mood was exuberant. A victory in the first game of the season was exactly what the team had needed, and the fact that Luke had scored two of the six points was what he had needed.

"Did you see Dyson's face when he botched the pitch for the fourth time in a row?" Jake asked with a smirk. He was the youngest in their team, but also the fastest. "He looked ready to pick up a bat and hurl it at me."

Dexter, one of the basemen, laughed out loud. "If the umpire hadn't looked, he'd definitely have done that."

"Very likely."

"Jake?" Sam Parker, their new PR manager and a close friend of Dexter's, if Luke remembered correctly, stepped into the changing room and waved the young player over. "Here's someone who wants an interview with you. Put a jersey on and come outside."

The player nodded and slipped his shirt over his head. "Duty calls, guys," he said and disappeared from the room.

"Duty calls," grumbled Ray, one of the oldest players on the team. "Barely out of his diapers, and he's already bragging about duty."

Luke wondered whether he'd been just as tiresome five years ago. He decided that it was better not to ask the others, for he suspected he wouldn't like the answer. "Carter," Ray addressed him now. "You've been working hard on your curveball, haven't you, man?"

Luke grinned. "I had nothing else to do."

"Yeah. Just don't get any better now, or my wife makes good on her threat, and pins your picture to our fridge, to get me to put in as much effort as you do. Her words."

"But I haven't even slept with your wife yet, so how does she know that I put in effort?"

"You better shut up, Carter, or I'll tell her what you said, and she'll come here and beat you up."

Luke grinned and patted Ray's shoulder. "Good for you that you found someone who can defend and protect you. I've always taken you for the smaller spoon anyway."

Ray snorted. "It's obvious that you've never been with a real woman in your life, Luke. I look forward to the moment when you beg me on your knees to give you some advice, because you have no idea how to keep such a woman!"

"Ah, Ray. You know that in my case, it's the women who get down on their knees …"

Ray shook his head and turned his back on him. "Someone should really punch you in the gut … preferably a woman."

It was far more likely that Luke would be punched by an angry husband – though he made it a rule to stay away from married women. The only problem with that rule was, women were sometimes just as blatant liars as men. Which was absolutely fine with Luke. He was all for equality of the sexes.

The changing room was almost empty, and Luke pulled the t-shirt over his head quickly. He should be going.

"Hey, Luke."

Luke turned around and gave Dexter a questioning look. "Yeah?"

"Ray, Sam, me, and a few others are thinking of heading to Eve's Bar for a round of drinks. Are you in?"

He shook his head and closed his locker. "Sorry, I'm meeting my dad for a beer."

"Did your agent enforce curfew again?" Dexter grinned.

He was a decent guy, most of the time. More decent than himself, all things considered. But that didn't change the fact that he could be very annoying sometimes.

"Shut up, Dex. No need to get personal, just because you can never score without me as your wing man."

"Someone's jealous because he has to be in bed by midnight! How cute. I'm blushing. Tell you what, Carter. If you ask me nicely, I might call Wes and ask him if I can chaperone you one night soon … How does that sound?"

"I'd say if you ask me nicely, I won't sleep with your sister for that."

Dexter's face crumbled in an instant. His sister was his only weak point. She was no longer a child, but Dexter hadn't realized that yet. "You keep your dirty paws off my sister! Chloe has enough on her plate at the moment, so back off!"

Luke shouldered his bag and fished for his car keys. "Geez, Dexter. Don't get your panties in a bunch, okay?"

"Then leave Chloe alone!"

As if Luke was stupid enough to make a pass at Dexter's sister. She'd probably appreciate knowing that Dex forbade everyone to even look at her.

"See you tomorrow, Dex," he grinned and sauntered out.

He turned up the collar of his coat against the cold and the press hounds. The right decision, as he found out a second later.

Outside the exit, a large crowd of reporters awaited him, armed with their flashing cameras. That was not unusual for the first game of the season, but Luke could have done without it. He hated the press – but unfortunately that feeling was not mutual.

"Mr. Carter, Mr. Carter!" the photographers yelled, pushing against the bleachers to get the best shot.

Luke was almost sorry that Wesley had coaxed his promise not to give them the finger anymore. Where was the fun in all of this, if he couldn't even flip them off?

"Carter, Carter! Look over here!"

With a soundless groan, Luke forced himself to give them a blank, impassive face. If these people had no private life, he could at least try not to give the impression that his was more interesting.

"Carter, Mr. Carter!" the hounds kept yelling, and now there was an entire TV team, and someone stuck a microphone in his face.

Jesus, all he wanted was to get to the underground parking garage, get into his car, and be off!

"Luke," a thin woman in a gray coat and skirt called, holding her microphone in his direction like a pistol. "What is your reaction to your father's engagement to the daughter of media tycoon Alberto? Does he have your blessing?"

Luke stopped abruptly and blinked in confusion. Engagement to … what?

He looked back over his shoulder at the female reporter, dumbstruck and frowning. His father had gotten engaged? With whom? Why was he hearing this for the first time now? He hadn't even known that his father was going out with anyone.

"Does he have your blessing, Mr. Carter?" the woman repeated with an expectant, prodding look on her face.

Luke forced himself to shake off the daze. "No comment," he mumbled and hurried on to get to his car.

Luke would never describe himself as hotheaded, but that was just because he was very good at lying to himself.

But … could his father really be engaged? Luke didn't even know about a girlfriend!

He couldn't imagine that his father would keep such a vital piece of information from him. Especially since his parents were still legally married, at least on paper.

Still, he owed it to the old man to let him explain what was going on.

Luke didn't trust a lot of people. If you were rich, it was hard to distinguish between the good and bad people – since ostensibly, everyone was always nice to you. His father had been the one person in his life Luke had trusted blindly. Until today.