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IT WAS the bottom of the ninth, sweat was dripping down my back as I kneel down behind the plate, the blue at my back held steady as Bently’s curveball crashes into my mitt.
“Striiiiiiike!” the blue belts out.
I throw the ball back to Bently and await the next batter, and hopefully the last. This game played quickly, and all I could think about doing now was to make my phone call to speak to the Skipper about our PR and what was happening.
The batter hits a double and the player on deck advances to the batter’s box. He shuffles his feet against the dirt, wraps, and unwraps his gloves several times in his routine as he gets ready and in his batter stance. I signal to Bently and nod that I’m ready, and the fastball is in my mitt before I can blink. The blue calls three strikes, and I’m barreling to the dugout. I’m unsnapping my gear, shoving it all into my duffel bag, and then heading to the clubhouse within minutes. I’m the first in the area, as I drop my bag in front of my cage and then pull a chair over to the Skipper’s office to wait for him to come down. The clubhouse soon fills with chatter from the rest of the team, followed by management. Skipper sees me in front of his door and nods. I open the door and step inside with him on my heels. He rounds his desk, and I sit down in the worn leather chair in front of his heavy wooden desk.
“What can I do for you, Gun?” he asks, leaning forward on his elbows.
“Sir, I wanted to speak with you about our PR matters.”
“Shouldn’t that be discussed with what’s her name?” he asks.
“She’s the one I have issues with, sir.”
“You didn’t sleep with her, did you?” he automatically accuses.
“No, sir.” I say watching him breathe a sigh of relief.
“Then what is it?”
“She has been adding false facts to reports and causing tension in my new relationship. She told me that she has been exaggerating what she has told the press. I mean c’mon Skip; this has nothing to do with the team. Why would she need to report on it, tell them a whole bunch of shit about my personal life, and lies on top of that?”
“She’s in PR, son, she must have a good reason for it.”
“She told the press that my girlfriend is playing me and that she’s not just dating me but also some other guy. That has nothing to do with the team that is an attack on my girl. In turn, creating a shit storm of hell for her professionally and personally.”
“To be honest, I don’t read anything in the paper unless it’s about the team in the sports section. I will take a look and then from there, I will speak to her superiors.”
“Can I ask when? I need some sort of assurance for my girl.”
“I’ll look at it today. I’m sorry your girlfriend is getting the short end of the stick. By the way, I’m glad to hear that you are finally settling down. I didn’t think that you would ever have an actual girlfriend.” He winks at me and laughs as I stand up.
The next morning, Skipper calls me to tell me that Melinda has been suspended and will be reassigned to a different division within the media team. In other words, she’s on desk duty. There was going to be a retraction to several of the news stories that have gone out, along with a public apology letter. I fist pump the air as I listen to the Skipper tell me about his conversation with the PR Company. Melinda told them that she believed it would be in the best interest of me as a player to get played and to make up lies about someone whose only involvement with the team was that she was dating me.
When I hang up, I drive straight to Sawyer’s work. I knew that going to her place of employment was probably stupid, but it’s the middle of that day and I’m desperate. I park in the parking lot and then shake my head.
If I am barging into her work, I need to show up prepared. I restart and pull the Jeep out of the parking spot and drive to the closest grocery store. I head to the deli and order sandwiches, hoping that she did not bring lunch today. Then I walk over to the floral section and pick out a colorful flower arrangement. Once I am satisfied with my pickings, I head back to her office. The Jeep is parked, and I’m rubbing my hands against the tops of my thighs, wiping the perspiration and taking a few deep calming breaths. There’s no use just sitting in the car freaking out, so I get out and make my way to the front doors.
I open the glass entrance door and smile at the receptionist who smiles back and then blinks hard when she recognizes me. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. I saunter up to her desk and ask for Sawyer. The receptionist stands and leads me along a maze of cubicles and glass walls until we reach our destination. Sawyer has her back to us and is on the phone. The receptionist leaves me to it, pats me on the shoulder and smiles.
When Sawyer hangs up the phone, I hear her take a deep breath. I clear my throat and tap on the side of her cubicle. I see a small jolt of surprise at the intrusion and then she swivels in her chair to face me.
“These are for you,” I say holding out the flowers. Then with my other hand, I hold up the bag of sandwiches. “And these are for us. I was hoping that we could eat lunch together.”
She smiles and removes the purse sitting on the chair against the wall of the cubicle.
“It depends, what did you bring for lunch?” she smiles and tilts her head.
“Sandwiches and an abundance of apologies.”
She motions for me to take a seat and I gladly do. I put everything on her desk, scoot the chair closer to her and grab her hands in mine.
“I need to start out with I’m sorry. You didn’t ask for that shit to be said about you and the papers attacking your character. It was uncalled for and very unprofessional of our team’s PR person to do so. She’s since been removed and no longer a factor.”
“I don’t want her to lose her job!” she says sweetly.
“Babe. She publicly shamed you, brought up drama in your job, your personal life and between us. I don’t care if she gets fired, she could have ruined our relationship and no one should do that.”
