Rounding the Bases by Jaqueline Snowe
Chapter Two
Brigham
The fifteen-game suspension timing up with the All-Star break left me with too much time on my hands. More time meant getting into trouble and that was the last thing I needed after the arrest. More attention for stupid things equaled not getting re-signed during free agency, and not playing baseball wasn’t even an option in my life. It was all I knew or cared about.
Don’t party. No women you don’t trust. Absolutely no bars or fights.
Those were the rules set by my agent since the incident, and god, I was bored. Bored out of my mind, since baseball was done for another week and I needed a distraction. Good thing I had two friends who needed a physical outlet as much as I did, who’d agreed to meet for racquetball. Of all the things to do, they chose that. I shouldn’t complain, though—it didn’t have alcohol and we could have our own section of the gym to play. Starting a membership with the YMCA was a great way to pass time. Swimming, biking, basketball—all outlets for the constant energy that bounced inside me.
“You two. Stop smiling. It’s annoying,” I greeted my teammates once I entered the YMCA and nodded at the teenager working the counter.
Gideon Titan and Brooks ‘Bummy’ Madsen wore matching grins and handed a racquet to me. “How’s our little criminal doing?” Gideon asked, hitting me on the head.
My response was punching him in the stomach. Not enough to actually hurt, but enough to make him flinch. “Surprised you both were able to leave your women. I don’t see any collar marks around your necks from their leashes.”
“Fuck off, Brigs.” Bummy rolled his eyes and started down the hallway toward court two. “Michelle will stab you if she knew you said that.”
“Stabbing might make me actually feel something,” I mumbled, hating how weak and pathetic I sounded. “No, don’t tell her that. She would do it.”
He laughed, like I wanted him to. “I’m glad you’re allowed to come here during your grounding period.”
“Less talking, bitch. Let’s play,” I growled, annoyed and happy that they were teasing me about the incident. It was a double-edged sword to have the world know about my fuck-up. My parents guilted me every chance they got, my agent reamed me and some of the guys on the team believed every word printed about it. But these guys, they trusted my word that the story wasn’t what it seemed.
My sister told me time and time again that they wouldn’t joke with me if they didn’t care, and despite my constant urge to hit them in the face, they were my friends and it meant so much that they did care. They hadn’t given up on me. Not like the cleat-chasing chick who I’d thought liked me. Not like the organization who wanted all of us to have clean records. Not like the press who wanted clicks and shares online.
“Stop thinking about how pretty you are, Brigs,” Gideon goaded me just as he tossed the ball into the air to start the game. It got my blood boiling, and when the ball came to my side, I hit it as hard as I could. The whiplash sound it made hitting the back wall echoed and I shut off all thoughts of my life.
It was me versus Gideon and I wanted to win.
We played four games before going for a run and taking pictures with a few fans. It shocked me to have teenagers still wanting my autograph. My agent had made it sound like I’d be staked in the heart if anyone saw me.
Maybe the kids don’t read the news?I shrugged at my thoughts and waved while we exited the facilities. My teammates had plans with their families and I had to go back to an empty apartment. Brenna would’ve hung out if she was in town, but my sister loved traveling the world.
Ugh, my goddamn sister.The reason I lived in the high-rise condo like I was a fancy businessman who entertained guests.
‘Live in a classy joint and you’ll be less likely to be an ass.’
Not true. I could still be an ass.
The well-meaning, thorn-in-my-side sister had the best intentions, but I really didn’t like the place she and my mom had insisted I move into. There was a doorman—an uptight, grumpy doorman who was glaring at me as I entered after the workout. Sweat dripped from my forehead and arms, and Ferdinand watched the moisture hit the floor and sneered. “Mr. Brigham, please, wipe yourself off before entering the building.”
“Fernie.” I used the name the pretty girl had said yesterday and enjoyed his slight lip curl. “It’s fine. It’ll evaporate before you can polish it with a cloth. It’s Phoenix. We all sweat.”
“Why must you be so difficult?”
I chugged my water bottle, tossed it into the recycling bin and pressed the button for the elevator just as the girl with blue in her hair entered the building. Ferdinand about shat himself and I let the elevators doors close, not going in and choosing to watch the show instead. My life was dull and I was feeling sorry for myself, so a little entertainment was due. I was the only tenant who enjoyed giving Fernie a hard time and, after what I’d overheard yesterday, I wanted more.
The girl had two large suitcases with duct tape on the sides and clothes spilling out. Oh baby, Fernie was not going to be happy.
“Ma’am. Why…why are you here? Again?”
“Moving in, boss.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him before her gaze found mine and her expression froze. It was a normal response when people recognized me and I hated the disappointment that seeped into my mind. There hadn’t been that dazed recognition the day before, so she had to know who I was, and that meant she knew about my arrest. She pressed her lips together for a second before speaking. “You again.”
“I live here.” I jutted my chin out at her bags. “I take it you are going to?”
“No. She’s not. That is not allowed. It has to be cleared with—”
“Settle down. Take a breath.” The petite woman held up her hands. “Mr. Alexandre already got authorization from the owner of the place. Do I need to show you my permission slip signed by my parents?”
Ferdinand’s eye twitched and he hung his head. “What is the point of having rules if we don’t follow them?” he mumbled under his breath, but loud enough for both of us to hear.
“Don’t be such a book two Hermione.” The blonde with blue hair laughed at her own joke and picked up the two large suitcases. “Don’t worry. I can handle it. No need to rush to help or anything.” She dragged them across the tile and narrowed her light blue eyes at me.
I wanted to know what that expression meant more than I cared to admit, and I took one of the bags from her. “I’ll help you.”
“God, manners and looks. Stay away from me, you.” She chewed on the side of her cherry-red lips and eyed me up and down. “Do you model? No. You’re not pretty enough. Don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful. But not in a feminine, androgynous way, you know? Like Ruby Rose. God, that girl is fine. You, though. You have a pretty-boy face with a rugged, lumberjack vibe.”
My mind could barely keep up with her train of thought. It could have been the way her lips moved as she spoke, the bright red clashing with the white of her teeth and golden skin. It was memorizing despite the fact she was the total opposite of the women I was drawn to. I tended to go for tall, curvy bombshells, not petite girls with blue hair. We got into the elevator and the doors closed, leaving us close together, and she glanced up at me with concern in her eyes.
“You okay, Blue Bell?”
“Blue Bell?” she asked, her eyes going so wide I could see way too much white. “How did you know my middle name was Bell?”
“I, uh, didn’t.” I covered my mouth with my hand and enjoyed the dusting of freckles on her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a tiny dress like before, but her green tank top showed enough skin to accentuate her tan. I pointed to her hair. “Sarah Bell, right?”
“Stranger danger, but you live here, so I guess it would be unfriendly to acknowledge you know my name.” She frowned and blinked fast. “Fine. Yes. My name is Sarah. Why do you know that? And who are you?”
“I have a great memory. Mr. Alexandre said your name yesterday and it stuck with me.” Sarah Bell Blue. It sounded wonderful and like a cartoon character all at the same time. There was a possibility she didn’t know what I did, and I held on tight to that truth. “I’m Brigham.”
“Just…Brigham?” She scrunched her nose and it looked as though she was sniffing me. “Like Shakira or Madonna?”
“Or like Beckham or The Rock.”
“The Brigham sounds stupid, and you can’t possibly have the same amount of swagger David Beckham has.” She clicked her tongue and looked at my ass without a sliver of embarrassment showing on her face. If anything, she looked proud. “Okay, maybe you do.”
I snorted. This chick was ridiculous. Totally ridiculous. “Monaghan. That’s my last name.”
“Eh. Average name. No offense.” She shrugged and I fought the urge to laugh again. People bought my jersey with my last name and number on it and Blue Bell here thought it was average. God, this shit was good. Gideon and Bummy would give me so much shit if they witnessed this. The elevator continued to ping while we went up each floor, and her face wrinkled with worry. “Are you going to hit your button and get off on your floor?”
“Yes.”
She stared as the floor numbers rose to the top and I hadn’t pressed a button. She licked her pretty bottom lip and cracked her knuckles once the doors opened at the highest floor. “You first, Brigham.”
“Ah, but ladies first. I have manners and good looks, as you said.”
“But you could’ve followed me up here to kill me, and I can’t have that happen. I have a job to do and two babies who need me. Dog babies. Not humans. Human children aren’t my thing.” She flung her hand outward and charm on her bracelet caught my eye. A dog bone.
“Blue Bell. I would not kill you. Not after riding in there with cameras. I’m not an idiot. Plus, I dislike Fernie and you annoy him, so it would be my honor to make sure you continue to annoy him.” I winked at her, hoping it would ease her distrust, and yet she made no moves to exit. She set her shoulders and straightened her spine. The girl had steel. I’d give her that.
We were at war. I tossed her bag into the hallway, took the other one from her hands and repeated the process. “Your stuff is out there. If we don’t get out, the doors will shut.”
She looked back and forth between the bags and me, and just as the doors started to shut, she jumped out with an excited cheer. “Ah ha!”
The sensor allowed me to exit, flustering Blue Bell, and the poor girl tripped over her bags trying to escape me. Now she lay on the floor, her long skinny legs going each direction, flashing me a pair of bright red panties—and god, the sight was not one that should’ve gotten me excited. But it did. My celibacy was wearing me down.
She held on to her brown satchel and positioned it like a weapon with one hand while she tried pulling down her black skirt with the other. “I will hurt your pretty face if you laugh at me for one second. Not even a giggle.”
I pressed my lips together tightly to try to obey her, but it didn’t last long when she tried getting up. She looked silly and it made me super happy to see her struggling. The straps of her bag were on her feet and she lost a shoe in the mix. “I would offer to help, but you might just think I’ll steal your stuff.”
“The gall of you.” She stood, dusted off her thighs and picked up both suitcases and her satchel, before marching down the hallway. “You better live up here or I’d think you were being stalkerish.”
“I do live up here.” I followed her down the hall and leaned against my door when she dropped her shit to knock on my neighbor. “You made your presence known that you will be living here. Is this with Mr. Alexandre or…?”
She cackled and put her hands on her knees. “Oh, look at you thinking absurd things. No. I am dog sitting for him for three months. Have you met Pico and Cassandra?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer. Mr. Alexandre opened the door, glared at me and ushered her inside before I could get another word in. It irritated me. He had been one of those people who’d greeted me every time we crossed paths, but once the incident had happened, he’d turned up his nose and refused to acknowledge my existence.
I went into my place and fell onto the couch, annoyed at myself and Mr. Alexandre. Partying wasn’t against the law. Neither were clubs or women or getting drunk. But as my dear sister liked to put it, I’d flaunted my fast lifestyle for too long for anyone to believe me when I said I didn’t do it.
Baseball meant too much to me to do the hard stuff. But the club had been busted and cocaine had been on the table and on my jacket from some drunk chick rubbing against me. It didn’t help that the police chief’s daughter had been there, who’d said the drugs were mine, so any chance at talking my way out of it had been gone.
I want a goddamn beer.
My fridge had water and protein shakes and that was it. No beer, no liquor, no wine. Fuck, all the good-tasting shit was off-limits until the case got dropped or until I got signed with the Los Soles baseball team again.
I groaned into my hand. Just thinking about not signing with them physically hurt me. They were my home. My family. My everything, and if I’d fucked it up for a night of fun, I’d never forgive myself. For one solid hour, I was distracted from thinking about my bleak future and I credited that to my temporary neighbor. She distracted me with her audacious personality and colorful everything. She made me feel normal and it was an addicting feeling.
Staying out of trouble was still my plan, but I adjusted it just a bit—make sure to run into Sarah Blue.
