The Screw Ball (Indianapolis Lightning Book 3) Page 5

  “I’ll send him a text suggesting that he share the posts, as well,” Carly states, pulling her own phone out.

  “Sure,” I say, hopefully hiding the sudden irritation in my voice that came from out of nowhere. Why I’m irritated that one of my employees would be texting one of our players work-related information is a weird thing to be irritated about. But my mind wanders to what else they could be texting about. I shut that thought down before it can take up too much space in my mind.

  I finish up sharing the posts to our social media platforms, then set my phone back down on my desk, turning my full attention back to Carly. “What can I do for you?” I ask.

  “I actually didn’t need anything, I was just coming in to see if you wanted to grab lunch today,” she says. I look down at my phone again, seeing that it is, in fact, lunchtime already. This morning was a busy one, apparently.

  “I don’t, so what did you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking of just heading around the corner to the deli for a wrap or salad,” she says.

  “Sounds good to me,” I tell her. I reach into my desk drawer and pull out my wallet. I slip my phone into my back pocket before I follow Carly out of the office.

  As soon as we step outside, the heat of the day hits me. The sun feels so good on my skin. I slip my sunglasses off the top of my head and over my eyes to shield them from the brightness. We both must have needed the sun, as we casually walk the block and a half to the little deli where we both end up ordering the daily special, which is a chicken caesar wrap.

  “Looks like all their outside seating is full, do you want to head back to the office and sit outside?” I suggest.

  “It is scary just how much we think alike.” She chuckles. “I was going to suggest the same thing.”

  We walk back to the office. Our team offices are connected to the large stadium, so we have lots of outside access. We find a table that offers sunshine, but not so much we’re blinded by it.

  “So,” Carly says between bites of her wrap. “Have you given any more thought into a dating app?”

  “Ugh.” I groan and finish the mouth full of food I have. “Those are the worst,” I tell her. “All guys want to do on them is send you dick pics, meet up for a quick fuck, or to catfish you,” I explain, pausing long enough to take a quick drink of my lemonade.

  “What’s wrong?” She quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t like looking at random peen? I thought you liked the D?” She smirks.

  “Oh, I like me some D, but random pictures of it, no, thank you. That shit isn’t pretty.”

  “You know who probably has a pretty dick?” she says, but more as a statement than a question. “Lucas,” she adds before I can answer her, and I almost spit out my lemonade.

  “Where did that come from?” I ask her, wiping at my face with a napkin.

  “He just has that edge of cockiness to him. Like he knows he’s all that and a bag of chips,” she says, shrugging her shoulders in a “what are you going to do about it, you know I’m right” kind of gesture.

  “He’s cocky, that’s for sure. And a pain in my ass,” I add for good measure.

  “I bet he could put something in your ass.” She smirks.

  “Carly!” I practically screech her name.

  “What?” she asks, trying to feign innocence. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought for just one second what he’d be like in bed. I’m in a happy committed relationship with a man I love deeply, and I’ve still had a thought or two about what he’s packing below the belt and how well he knows how to swing that bat,” she says, giving me a pointed look.

  “Fine.” I roll my eyes at her. “I might have had a thought or two about him. He might have made an appearance or two in my thoughts while in the shower.”

  “Yeah, he has!” she cheers.

  “Okay, that’s enough. I have to look him in the eyes and if this conversation keeps going, I won’t be able to do that without thinking back to it, or of him naked and doing naughty things.”

  “If you insist, but maybe you should investigate that a little more. I’ve seen the way he watches you when you’re walking away from him. His eyes never leave your ass,” she says, shrugging her shoulders again as she reaches for her own drink.

  “Never going to happen. I don’t date players.”

  “Rules are meant to be broken. Plus, isn’t that your rule and not the team’s?” she presses.

  “So, what,” I tell her. “It isn’t like I’m his type, nor is he mine. So there’s no reason to put any more thought into the idea. It’s never going to happen,” I tell her, closing the book on this conversation.

  I finish my lunch, wrapping all my trash up and tossing it in one of the large cans not far from the table we’re at. I turn around, leaning my back against the table as I close my eyes and soak in the sun.

  “I’m headed back inside,” Carly says a few minutes later.

  I crack my eyes open as she stands. “I’ll be following you shortly, I just need a few more minutes here in the sun,” I tell her, enjoying the hell out of being able to take this time to just relax.

  “Sounds good, I’ve got some emails to follow up on, so if you need me, you know where to find me,” she says before disappearing into the building.

  My mind is always turning, always planning multiple things, plus having to be on the ready when something happens with one of the many people associated with the team. From the ownership and management, to the players. I have to deal with media relations for all of them at one point or another. Just like some I deal with more than others. My job is never boring, that’s for sure. As hectic and stressful as it can be at times, I wouldn’t change it for anything. I love what I do. I love working for the Lightning. It is a great organization to work for, and I’m very lucky to have landed this dream job when I did.

  My phone buzzes on the table behind me, so I’m forced to end my time soaking in the sun. When I look at the screen, my eyes instantly roll as I see who’s calling me.

  “Carmen Gibson,” I answer the call. My voice is laced with so much fakeness, I could almost puke from all of it.

  “Carmen,” the caller greets. “This is Bella King from TMZ,” she tells me, and launches into why she’s calling before I can interject. “I’m calling to get a statement on the situation from earlier today.”

  I’m a little surprised, as TMZ usually only cares about gossip that I’m trying to keep as quiet as possible, not the news that we actually want picked up and spread like gospel. I will never assume with someone like this, as they’ll sometimes try and trick unsuspecting people into giving up a morsel of information that wasn’t previously released.

  “I’ll need a little bit more information before I can provide a statement, can you tell me whom, exactly, you’re calling about and what situation you’re referring to?”

  I swear I can hear gum popping on the other end of the line, which just goes to show you the level of professionalism. “I’m calling in reference to Lucas Black,” she says, the annoyance obvious, at this point.

  “A request came in last week from a children’s hospital in Florida,” I start to tell her the details.

  “Actually,” she interjects, “I’m calling regarding the other announcement about Lucas,” she states and I’m sure I lose all my color as my mind starts reeling as to what other announcement she’s talking about.

  “For any comments on anything not related to the team, please reach out to Mr. Black’s manager or personal PR company.” I give her my nicest blow off and end the call, basically hanging up on her. I type his name into my Google search as I haul ass back to my office.

  “Carly!” I call out as I pass by her office as I run to my own. She must hear the panic in my voice as she comes running into my office.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have no idea, TMZ just called asking for a comment on the ‘situation’ with Lucas. I thought it was a little weird because usually hospital visits aren’t their thing, but I went
with it. When I started to give them a response about how the hospital visit was set up, she interrupted me and said she was calling about the other ‘situation’.” I pause long enough to wake my computer up and type Lucas’s name into a Google search. The screen immediately loads and is flooded with articles that have hit within the last thirty minutes.

  A Secret Baby for Baseball’s Newest Hotshot?

  I read the headlines one after another. “Well, looks like he knocked up a stripper,” I tell Carly.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me?” she says as she plops down in the chair across from my desk. “That man needs to learn how to keep it in his pants.”

  “And wrap it up.” I grimace. I don’t need to be thinking about him and his junk and whether he wraps it up when he’s having sex. Especially with a stripper.

  “Do you want me to reach out to him, see if he’s got his PR firm on this? If he’s smart, he’ll demand a paternity test just to make sure she’s not trying to use him for money or fame. You know she wouldn’t be the first, and most definitely won’t be the last to do that.”

  I glance at the clock, checking the time, then checking the itinerary for the team. Since they’re still on the road, I have an hour-by-hour breakdown of where they’ll be when. “He should be at the hotel,” I tell her, hitting the speaker button on my phone before I dial his number.

  It rings four times before flipping over to his generic voice mail. At the end of the beep, I do my best to control myself as I leave him a quick message. “Lucas, Carmen here, I need to talk to you about this current baby situation. I’m fielding calls from TMZ. I need to know if you have your own PR firm on this or if we need to coordinate things. If no one else has advised you of this, yet, I’d highly recommend you request a paternity test ASAP. Many women will lie about a baby on the way or whose it is, when a professional athlete is in the equation. Just be careful, and please call me back ASAP.”

  I hang up the call before I start ranting, especially since it is just a voice mail box and not actually Lucas.

  “What do you want to do?” Carly asks, her voice soft and reserved.

  “Until we know if his PR firm is already on this, we can work on drafting up a statement, but need to hold off on actually submitting it to anyone. I don’t want to overstep.”

  Nine

  Lucas

  I’m sitting at a table with some of my teammates in the back of the hotel’s bar. We’ve just finished our lunch and are shooting the shit, when my phone starts buzzing constantly on the table. I turn it over to see the screen blowing up with notifications. When that happens, it is never a good sign, so I quickly grab it, swiping up to check out what is going on today.

  “Shit, son,” JJ says from across the table. “Looks like someone got himself a little bit of drama going on.” He smirks.

  “Asshole,” I call him, glaring at him over the top of my phone. My glare must not be all that intimidating to him, as he just smiles back like he knows something I don’t.

  I skim the posts, one on Twitter, specifically, catches my eye and has now been shared over a thousand times in the few minutes it has been posted. Some chick, one I don’t even recognize, has tagged me and is claiming I’m the father of her unborn child.

  “Just take a deep breath and get Carmen on the phone,” Derek says, slapping a hand on my shoulder as I do my best to pull oxygen into my lungs and not pass out because I’m freaking out inside. I know down in my soul that this girl is lying. All she sees with me is a big fat paycheck if she claims I’m her baby daddy.

  “I’ll call my own, first,” I grunt out as I pull up my contacts list. Before I can hit the button, my phone starts ringing, and it is Brent, my agent calling.

  “Lucas.” Brent’s deep voice comes through the line. “Talk to me, kid.”

  “She’s lying,” I blurt out.

  “Okay, and what makes you so confident about that?” he questions.

  “First off, I don’t recognize her at all from the little I was able to see on her profile. Plus, I always use protection.”

  “Protection isn’t one-hundred percent, you should know that,” he shoots back.

  “I know, but I just have a feeling about this one,” I tell him.

  “I’ve already shot a message off to PR, asking them to get on this ASAP. For now, no comments to any media. You got that?” he asks.

  “Loud and clear.”

  “We’ll make a announcement in the next hour, basically stating that a paternity test will be requested to determine if you are, in fact, the father, and if that proves you are then you will step up and provide for the baby and reasonable support for his or her mother. We’ll also request that the media leave you alone on this matter, as you are still processing the news, seeing as how the young woman took to Twitter to inform you of this potential child.”

  “I can live with all of that,” I tell him. My phone starts buzzing in my ear, thanks to an incoming call. I pull it away, just to check to see who is calling. Carmen’s contact pops up, but I let her go to voice mail, knowing that she’s probably calling to rip me a new one due to this newest drama. I swear, I can’t win when it comes to keeping my name out of the spotlight. She’s never going to think better of me if shit like this keeps popping up.

  I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. After the bombshell dropped this afternoon, I played like shit tonight. Dropped a ball I should have never dropped, which allowed Tampa to score a run, then struck out every time I was up to bat.

  I get dressed as quickly as I can, not really socializing with any of the guys. I’m in a shitty mood, between today’s drama, the shitty way I played, the loss of the game. It all is just weighing down on me tonight. I just need a night to escape everything, and plan to do just that when I get back to the hotel.

  Just as I’m entering my hotel room, my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing my sister’s smiling face lighting up the screen. Seeing how late it is, I worry something might be wrong with my nephew, so I answer the call as quickly as I can.

  “Everything okay with Milo?” I ask as her face fills the screen.

  “Oh, yeah, he’s fine. I was worried about you. How are you holding up?” she asks.

  “It’s been one hell of a day, but I’ll survive,” I tell her, dropping to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “I saw the press release, how are you really handling the news?” she presses. My sister is one of my very best friends. We are only thirteen months apart, and while that contributed to us fighting like cats and dogs growing up, we’re now closer than ever. I’d do anything for her, my nephew, Milo, or my brother-in-law, Brad.

  “She’s so full of shit, Tiff. I’ve never slept with that girl, let alone gotten her pregnant. I’m hopeful that we can do the DNA test as soon as I get back to Indianapolis, but I’m not sure how all that works, since the baby isn’t born yet. It is going to really suck if I have to wait until it is born to find out.”

  “Depending on how far along she is, they can do a simple blood test from what I was researching earlier. It is ninety-nine percent accurate. They can also do an amniocentesis, but that is more invasive and comes with some risks.”

  “I’d be fine with the blood test if it is that accurate,” I tell her.

  “That’s what I’d suggest starting with. The lab that I found looks like they offer same day rush results for another five-hundred bucks, otherwise, it can take three to five days.”

  “Five-hundred bucks will be well worth the cost, just to know for sure within a day,” I tell her and mean every word. I’d rather drop a couple grand on this test and know for sure than to spend only a few hundred and have it hanging over my head. “I think a lawyer has to step in and get involved. Brent was going to handle everything for me and let me know once I’m back in town.”

  “When do you fly in?” Tiffany questions.

  “After tomorrow’s game.”

  “So, you could potentially be getting the test done in as
soon as two days from now.”

  “I guess so, but that also means they have to get this chick to agree to it by then.”

  “Do you even know her name?” Tiff asks.

  “Nope, do you?” I ask her as I push back on the bed, leaning against the headboard as I get a little comfortable.

  “The report said Abigail.”

  “Yeah, no recollection of an Abigail, ever.”

  “Do you need to check your little black book?” She chuckles, giving me shit.

  “Don’t be a bitch.”

  “Me? A bitch to my little brother, the hotshot of major league baseball?” she asks all innocent like. “Never!” She breaks out into a maniacal laugh and I can’t help but smirk at her antics. “That’s the smile I was looking for.” She beams. “I knew I could make you laugh at this crazy situation.”

  “Thanks, Tiff. I knew if anyone could get me through all this BS, it would be you. Now, how’s my nephew today?”

  “He’s good, really good, actually.”

  “The cast giving him any problems?”

  “He’s finally getting used to it, I think. Although, it is still like a little weapon attached to his leg. I’ve got some nasty bruises to show from the times he’s accidently hit me with it.”

  “Damn, well, only a few more weeks and he can get it taken off.”

  “I’m so ready for that day. He’s starting to stink since we can’t give him a full shower or bath.”

  “No worse than my gym bag growing up.”

  “Gah, don’t remind me. That thing was vile.”

  “Well, I should get off to bed, it’s been a long day. I’ll call you once I’m back in town. Love you, Tiff.”

  “Love you, too, bro. Hang in there and we’ll get you past all of this. Once it all blows over, maybe it is time for you to find someone to settle down with, leave your manwhore ways behind you.”