Long Ball(5)

By the time we get to Club Classic, the lines are long, the boys are thirsty, and Kemp has already found at least six girls he wants to sleep with before the night is over. Octivio and I make bets on how many he actually comes away with. He says one, but I say three. Kemper is my best friend, one of the first friends I ever made when I joined the Storm Chasers back in Omaha, and I know him well.

He’ll probably have two girls in the bathroom before the first round of drinks gets here.

We’re waved through security, the flash of a million different camera phones going off as we walk through the crowds. We pause here and there to sign autographs and pose for pictures, but George arranged a private room upstairs that we’re all dying to get to.

“Travel day tomorrow.” Kemp brings me two shots of Patron to match his own. “That means we can get f*cked until the cows come home.”

We shoot the drinks and I savor the sting washing down my throat. It reminds me of home. As much as the big, lavish parties are exciting, there will always be part of me that misses the quiet, star-filled nights of Omaha.

“Get the f*ck out of your head, dude.” Kemp smacks me on the chest with the back of his hand. “We won tonight! You went halfway through the cycle with a double and a homer! Why aren’t you perked up?”

I shrug and take a beer from Everett as he edges around us. “Just tired.”

“Forget that, man. We’re getting hammered and you’re getting laid.”

We’ve had this conversation one hundred times before and I really don’t feel like having it again. “I’m good, man. You better go score some action. Octivio and I have a bet.”

This distracts him. “What did you say?”

“Three.”

Kemp’s face splits into a wicked grin and I can see why all the girls love him. “You have faith in me. I like it.”

“Hell yeah, bro. I know you.” We do our ritual handshake and Kemp disappears into the crowd, looking for girls. I sit back with Doug and survey the crowd around us.

“Not much for parties either, tonight?” Doug raises his glass at me. He’s been nursing drinks for the last few weeks, but he still always comes out with us.

“Nah. I know we have a day off tomorrow, but I’m exhausted. Only here because Kemp made me.”

“It’s fun to celebrate.” Doug sips his drink and shakes his head. “I just wish I had the stamina you young guys have.”

“Doug, you’re only like 30. Shut up.”

“I’m thirty-five, man. That’s old. My time is ending. I’m just trying to soak as much of it up as I can while I’m still here.”

We clink glasses and settle into our booth to watch the chaos unfold around us. It doesn’t last long, though, because Carlos hauls me up for another round of shots, and then Kemp hunts me down with a bottle of Fireball.

“You know I hate that shit!” I yell in his ear over the music.

“Shut up and drink!” He yells back.

Two more shots and my mind has gone blessedly blank. I don’t care about anything anymore but the swell of the beat and the pretty girls smiling at me. I could be like Kemp, I think. Love them and leave them and never hurt anymore.

“Hey, I need to introduce you to someone!” Kemp grabs my arm and pulls.

“Is it your latest conquest? Because you owe me if Octivio wins this bet.”

“Even better than that.”

We head back to our private room. There’s a lot more girls in here than before. Some of the guys are surrounded by three or four of them. I remember when that was me, and I don’t miss it. Sort of.

“Jamesy, this is Shelbie Saint.” He winks at me.

I turn and find myself face-to-face with a total blonde bombshell. She’s the definition of gorgeous. Bright green eyes, plump red lips, legs for miles, and breasts that a guy could get lost in. My pants tighten a bit just looking at her.

“Hi, I’m Jamie. Only this dipshit calls me Jamesy.” I smile, thankful for the alcoholic armor I’ve built up over the last hour. “You look familiar. Where do I know you from?”

Shelbie gives me a wink. “Channel 5. I do the sports trivia on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

I snap my fingers. “That’s it! I love your trivia. We try to catch it before games.”

“That’s so sweet.” She flashes a grin and puts a hand on my arm. “Mind if we get a drink?”

On a regular night, I’d pass. I do quick mental math to add up how many shots I’ve had and turn to catch Kemp’s eye. He starts humping a pole because he’s an ass. Shelbie has both hands on me now and I find myself less concerned with how many drinks I’ve had and more concerned with this tight red dress in my face.

“What’s your poison?”

“Cosmo.” She flutters her eyelashes at me and blows a kiss my way.

My pants tighten two-fold. Okay, so I usually pass, I do. I’m tired of this game--but a little flirting, maybe a little kissing, it wouldn’t be so terrible. Right? I grab a cosmo for her and a paloma for me, all the while staring at her from across the bar. She’s checking her phone and chewing on her lips and making it look so, so good.

Maybe I can suspend the rules for one night.

Kemp winks at me before slipping into the bathroom with a blonde. One down, two to go.