Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

QUINCY – AGE 32 { RIPLEY – AGE 27}

I was traded to the Philadelphia Cougars a few days ago. Frankly, it's a welcome change. My team in Houston was young and in a rebuilding phase. The Cougars are a little older and contenders for the World Series this season. There's a lot of talent on the team.

Harold Greene, the longtime owner, said I'll slot right into their starting rotation. The season doesn't start for a few months. I moved early so that I have time to acclimate to my new team and my new city. Arizona plays professional softball for a team out of Southern California. I certainly have no need to go to my parents' house, so I find myself in Philly well ahead of our start date.

I grew to love the city of Houston, but it was time to leave. Running into Ripley became harder and harder. She's barely spoken to me since that day well over a year ago in her bedroom. The pain in her face when she sees me is unbearable.

Even while we both were there for Arizona when Marc left her at the altar, she maintained a cold distance from me. Now I don't have any reason to see her at all. She's in Houston, I'm in Philadelphia, and Arizona is single, in Southern California. I think it's all for the best.

Philly is now my home, and I'm excited about this fresh start.

I'm in athletic shorts and no top as I begin the daunting task of unpacking and getting settled into my new apartment when there's a knock at the door. I open it to see an adorable elderly lady holding a huge golden-colored Great Dane. He reminds me of Diamond.

She's tiny, with short gray hair styled like a football helmet and bright blue eyes. She's wearing one of those sweatsuits that you can hear swishing when the person walks.

The woman looks at my shirtless chest and fans her face. "You shouldn't answer your door like that. You'll give this old crow a heart attack."

I can't help but let out a laugh. "I'll keep that in mind. Can I help you?"

"Oh yes, I'm sorry, I was distracted by your beefcake body. It looks like our building has a Dr. McDreamy in the house. I'm Blanche, your new neighbor."

I do my best to bite back my smile. "Hi, Blanche. I'm Quincy, Quincy McDreamy."

She giggles as she hands me a basket. "I made you cookies. I could lie and tell you that I made them from scratch, but I didn't. I can't bake but want to be neighborly. Welcome to the building. Thanks for bringing me some eye candy. "

I smile as I take them. She's a riot. "Thank you, Blanche. They smell amazing. Just like they're homemade. I'd never know the difference." They don't. They're very obviously store bought.

She giggles.

I nod toward the dog. "Is he a Great Dane?"

"He is. His name is Thor. I have a thing for muscular men with longer blond hair and broad chests." She winks at me. Blanche is a full-fledged flirt. I inwardly laugh. She must have well over forty years on me.

"I had a Great Dane growing up. It's my favorite breed. One day when I own a house, I hope to have another."

She nods. "Yes, they're hard to have in a building like this, but I had him before I moved here, when we lived in a bigger place. My husband passed two years ago, and I decided just this year that I didn't want to care for a house. The move hasn't been so great for Thor though. There's a teenager in the building who takes him for long walks every day so Thor can get some exercise."

"I'm happy to take him for walks too."

She reaches out and squeezes my hand. "Thank you. I'm getting a little old for those long walks, but I'm not too old for everything." She winks again.

I can't help but chuckle. "That's…umm…good to know."

"I may be getting old, but I'll never grow up."

"You're not old, Blanche. You're perfect just as you are. Prettiest lady I've met in the building yet."

She waves her hand dismissively. "Oh please. I'm so old that when I let out a huge fart last week, it threw out my back for two days."

I can't help but let out a loud laugh at that one. " You're funny, Blanche. I happen to like my women funny."

She giggles like a schoolgirl. I think I officially love Blanche.

I see a guy walking down the hallway toward us. As he gets closer, I realize it's one of the most famous athletes in all of baseball, Layton Lancaster. He's the catcher on the Cougars. He's a bit older than me, nearing the end of his career, but he's likely a future Hall of Famer, and I'm excited to play with him.

He smiles as he approaches. "Quincy Abbott, right?"

I nod.

He holds out his hand. "I'm Layton. Harold asked me to stop by and welcome you to Philly. We're excited to have you."

I shake his hand in return. "It's an honor to meet you. I'm a huge fan of yours."

"Nonsense. It's me who's a fan of yours." He smiles at Blanche. "I didn't realize you had beautiful company. I can come back later if you're on a hot date."

She blushes at the compliment before fanning herself again. "First Thor and now Captain America? My battery-operated friend will be getting a workout later tonight."

Layton and I look at each other with huge grins on our faces.

"I'll leave you boys to it. You know where to find me for a good time. I've never had a threesome, but YOLO."

"Bye, Blanche. Thanks for the cookies. Don't forget to come by when Thor needs a walk."

"I will. Thank you."

I turn to Layton and open the door wider. "Please, come in before my eighty-year-old neighbor talks us into her bedroom."

He lets out a loud laugh before looking at my bare chest. "Am I…interrupting you? I can come back another time if you have company."

I shake my head. "Not at all. I'm just unpacking. It was hot."

I wave him inside and he walks through the door. Looking around, he whistles, "This place is great." He points at my severely oversized television. "And that's fucking awesome."

I nod. "I'm a big sports fan. I love basketball and football. I like to watch it on a big screen."

"Nice. Me too. I'll watch with you sometime." He sits on my new sofa and makes himself comfortable like we're old friends. "If you want to work out together, I usually go over to the stadium in the early mornings. The young guys go later in the day, but my old ass likes the quiet of the morning."

I smile. "So do I. I guess it's part of aging. I can't sleep in anymore and I'd rather get my workout in before I start my day. There seems to be a mix of old and young guys on this team. The Hurricanes were so young. I had a hard time keeping up with their late-night antics. The club scene is getting old."

He chuckles. "I hear you. Trust me, I hear you. The young guys on this team hit the clubs until all hours. Us oldies keep it low-key at a local sports bar. The owner saves a private booth for us to kick back. I'm meeting Trey, Cheetah, and Ezra there tonight. You should join us. We're the unofficial oldie Cougars club."

I know all those names. Trey DePaul is the Cougars third baseman. He started his career in New York. I don't remember the exact circumstances, but I remember there was some crazy spectacle over him being traded from New York to Philly a few years ago. It was all over the news at the time.

Cheetah is the nickname for Cruz Gonzales. He's the centerfielder and widely considered the fastest player in the sport, hence the nickname, Cheetah. That leaves Ezra Decker, the longtime Cougars second baseman. He's a solid player. They're all over thirty years old. It's truly nice to have a group like this. I'm feeling very fortunate and very excited for this new opportunity.

"Thanks, man. That sounds fun. I'd love to."

Layton hangs around most of the day. He's an awesome guy, and it's really nice of him to befriend and welcome me.

At the allotted time, I take an Uber to a place called Screwballs. What a great name for a sports bar.

When I walk in, I see the four of them sitting in a corner booth that appears to be roped off from the rest of the patrons.

Layton immediately smiles when he sees me and motions for me to join them, which I do. After shaking all their hands, I decide to bring my family and teammate tradition to this team. It's always been a bonding activity.

"Are you guys game for something a little different?"

They all nod.

"My father loses track of time like no one I've ever met. He's a carpenter, and once he's in his shop, hours go by and he's clueless. When I was growing up, he was always late for everything, including dinner. Fearing my sister and I would turn into him, my mother started this game which I've brought to all the teams I've ever been on. Whoever is last to arrive has to offer up a random fact. It's just a small incentive to be on time and, frankly, you learn a lot from it. It's kind of fun and always a conversation starter. It keeps you on your toes."

Layton looks confused. "Like what?"

"I was last to arrive tonight, so I have to give you all some obscure fact. Let me think for a moment. Hmm. Baby elephants suck their trunks for comfort. It's like thumb-sucking to them."

Cheetah scoffs. "If I could suck my own trunk , I'd never leave the house."

We all laugh. I nod. "I think we all can agree with that statement."

Layton asks, "Do you research this stuff? Give us another example."

"I always have a bunch on hand at any moment just in case. You guys will like this one. A hippo's jaw opens wide enough to fit a sports car inside."

They all start playing with their jaws, as do most people when I give them that random fact.

Cheetah wiggles his. "I knew a girl like that once. Her name was Carissa." He shivers. "Hmm. She could open that mouth so damn wide."

Layton nods. "I remember her. That's the girl who we—"

Cheetah interrupts, "That's her."

I look at them in question and Layton shrugs. "Sometimes Cheetah and I share women. Or watch each other with women. We have similar tastes."

They fist-bump each other.

I look around. Even though it's a sports bar, there's a band playing cover music and dancing on a small dance floor. Most of the women are dancing for the benefit of our table. "I assume you all catch a lot of tail here?"

Layton smirks. "We sure do. All of us except Trey."

Trey lifts an eyebrow. "When you have the most perfect diamond at home, there's no need to go for these rough, unpolished stones. Enjoy your canned sardines. I'll be feasting on lobster later tonight."

Cheetah nods enthusiastically. "Gemma DePaul is most definitely a diamond and a lobster. She's the reason I'm currently obsessed with dark-haired beauties. And her tits…" Cheetah bites his lip and shivers again.

What the hell?

Trey scowls at him. "Stay away from my wife."

Cheetah winks at Trey. "I can't do that. We have book club together. The book she recommended this month has a couple that does it on a rowboat in the middle of a lake on their kids' overnight field trip. Holy crap. Best book scene ever."

Layton rolls his eyes. "Cheetah loves romance novels. And porn. He's obsessed with porn. The worst thing in the world is getting stuck with him as a roommate on a road trip. He watches that shit all night."

Cheetah proudly smiles. "I do, but none of those women are as hot as Gemma DePaul."

Trey practically growls at him, but I can tell that Cheetah is just having fun with him. These guys are a riot.

Cheetah turns to me. "Trey is a Neanderthal about Gemma. He rarely leaves her side. We like to bust his balls. She's in her third trimester with their first child or she'd be here tonight. She may always look fancy, but she likes hanging with the boys."

Layton sips his beer and nods. "Gemma is cool. We all love her…like a sister." He grins at Trey and then mock whispers, "A crazy hot sister with a bangin' body. "

I mumble, "I know all about that."

Cheetah wiggles his eyebrows up and down. "What was that, Abbott? Did I just hear you admit that you have a hot sister? Perhaps she should join us one night."

I make a look of disgust. "Unfortunately, yes, I do. I've been chasing my friends away from her for as long as I can remember. I'm just happy she lives far away from you guys. She's a pro softball player. Her team is based out of Southern California."

He looks impressed. "Pro softball? That's cool. Too bad they don't have a team here in Philly. Then we could hang with your hot sister all the time."

I sarcastically reply, "Yes, it's truly a shame your womanizing self can't hang with my baby sister."

We spend the next hour chatting and getting to know each other. This is a good group of guys.

At some point, I notice an attractive brunette on the dance floor staring at Layton. I whistle. "Wow, she's kind of obvious. She's not even bothering to hide it."

Layton twists his lips. "That's Delta. She's a sure thing. A good lay though. She certainly likes sucking on elephant trunks. If nothing else piques my interest, I always have her ready, wet, and willing. If you want her, go ahead. I don't give a shit. Or we can tag team her. She's down for anything."

I shake my head. "Not my type. I like a little meat on the bones."

Cheetah's eyes widen. "Are you a chubby chaser?"

The corner of my mouth raises. My teammates have been calling me that for years. "Maybe by your standards. I just like a woman with real curves on her body. I don't like skin and bones. I need something I can grab onto when I fuck her. Big tits, thick thighs, and a big booty do it for me."

Though none have ever done it for me as much as Ripley St. James. Fuck, I love her body. I miss her, but I also know she's better off without me in her life. Part of me hopes she finds what she's looking for, and part of me can't stand the thought of her with someone else.

They all look around. There's a full-figured woman dancing with her friends. They nod her way. Cheetah asks, "Like her?"

I nod. "Yep, she'll do. I can have her on her back within the hour. In fact, I think it's time."

Layton's eyes widen. "Already?"

"Why not?" I stand. "I'll see you guys at the gym tomorrow morning, right?"

They all nod and catcall as I walk away.

I head over to the woman and ask her to dance. She immediately agrees. It takes all of half a song for her to agree to take me back to her place. I grab her hand and we exit the bar. As we get into the Uber, I tell her, "I promise you'll come several times tonight, but no kissing." I stare out the window and think, I save my kisses for one special woman. My wife .

At eight o'clock the next morning, we're in the team gym at the stadium. It's a beautiful, state-of-the-art facility. It's empty except for the five of us.

I can't help but smile. "You guys weren't kidding. The young guns don't work out early."

Layton nods. "They'll trickle in at some point. Half will be hungover. Coach will bust their balls about it, and they'll straighten out for a few weeks until the cycle begins all over again. Eventually they learn. Or get old like us where it takes two days to recover."

I nod. "Well, Cheetah, that means technically you were the last to arrive." He walked in just after me. "You're going to have to give us a random fact."

He rubs his hands in excitement. "I was up half the night looking things up. There's some crazy shit out there, but I found my favorite. Snakes can smell with their tongues." He makes a V with his fingers and suggestively flicks his tongue through it. "Luckiest fuckers on the planet."

The guys all laugh while my mind flashes to Ripley's strawberry smell and taste. It feels like forever since I've had it on my tongue.

My daydream is broken by Layton asking me to spot him for squats, which I do. His leg muscles are huge. I suppose that's normal for a catcher. "Dude, do you walk around with a bag of bricks on your back every day?"

He shrugs. "A job hazard, I guess."

"I get it. My sister is a catcher too. Her quads are strong."

"That's cool. She any good?"

I can't help but smile. These guys are clueless about softball, as are many baseball players. "Honestly? She's probably the best in the country. I think she'll be on the next Olympic team."

His eyes widen. "Wow. I guess she must have a pretty good arm too?"

I smirk. "Like you wouldn't believe. She probably throws about as hard as most major leaguers."

"I need to check her out. "

"Their season starts later than ours. Usually around July first."

"Cool. Maybe we can catch a game if it works with our schedule."

"I would love that. I haven't been able to see her play in person in a long time."

We spend the next hour spotting and cheering each other on as we lift. At some point, the loud metal door to the gym opens. Cougars' manager Dutton Steel walks in. Admittedly, I'm a little starstruck. Dutton was widely considered one of the best baseball players ever with a certain path to the Hall of Fame. At least until his life took a turn for the worse. When he was in the prime of his career, his wife was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer. He notoriously walked away from the game to care for her, and then when she eventually passed, to care for their young children. About five years ago, when his youngest left for college, he re-entered the baseball world as the manager of the Cougars.

The other guys all fist-bump him. Their affection for Dutton is immediately apparent to me. That's refreshing. In Houston, we had a revolving door of managers, which is often the case when a team underperforms.

Dutton, who's also in workout clothes, is still in great shape. He's got darker hair, which I can see is just starting to gray a bit. I'm guessing that he's about fifty years old.

He holds out his hand to me. "Quincy Abbott. So fucking happy to have you here. You're the missing piece to our pitching puzzle." He looks around at the other guys. "Though I'm already skeptical of your judgment considering the company you're keeping. "

All the guys chuckle and Dutton smiles. I like that they have a jovial relationship with him.

I shake his hand in return. "It's an honor to meet you, Coach Steel. I'm beyond excited to be here."

He waves his hand dismissively. "Call me Dutton." He motions for me to follow him. "Come spot me so we can chat."

I follow him to a few benches in the corner, out of earshot of the rest of the gang, where he proceeds to add more weight to a bar than I'm capable of bench pressing. I'm about to tell him that I can't lift that much weight when he lays down on the bench and starts lifting it himself.

I stand behind him and do my job as a spotter. "Damn, you're strong."

He shrugs. "Exercise has always been an outlet for me. Tell me, how are you acclimating to Philly?"

"I only just got here, but those guys have been welcoming. More than welcoming. I appreciate it."

He nods. "Good. It must be hard at your age to pack up and move across the country. You got a family?"

"I'm not married with children if that's what you're asking."

"Leaving anyone behind?"

I shake my head. "No. My only real family is my sister, and she lives in Southern California."

"Oh, I didn't realize you had lost your parents. I suppose you and Layton have that in common."

"I didn't. I'm just not close with them. I see them now and then. It's usually my sister who forces it on me."

He nods in acknowledgment as he continues to lift the weights as if they weigh nothing. "No lady friends?"

"No one of note." There's no need for me to mention to him that the only one I care about is a fiery redhead who isn't even talking to me right now. Oh, and she's my wife.

He lifts one of his thick eyebrows. "I'm sensing there's more to it."

"What makes you say that?"

"I've been living with a broken heart for a very long time. Let's just say it increases your radar for others suffering a similar fate."

"Oh, I'm not brokenhearted."

"If you say so. Well, like I said, we're happy to add you to our rotation. This is a solid team. Your new buddies are great leaders to the younger guys. I think the young guys see the brotherhood they've formed throughout the years. They genuinely care for each other. We don't have selfish players on this team. I won't stand for it, and neither will the owner, Harold Greene." He says that as a bit more of a command than purely informational.

"It's refreshing. That wasn't the team culture in Houston. I welcome the change."

He nods. "I know it wasn't. That's why I'm mentioning it. This team is a family. We support each other on and off the field."

"Yes, sir. I'm all in. I've never played for a contender. I'm thrilled about the opportunity."

"Glad to hear it." I help him set the weights in place before he sits up and wipes his brow with a towel. "I'm here for you for whatever you need."

He says that in almost a fatherly way. Not that I would know what it looks like. I barely speak to my father.

"Thanks, Dutton. I genuinely appreciate it."