The Trade(124)

Rumor has it, Potter is desperate to win fan approval and will go to great lengths to make that happen and has started looking for recreational drugs to get him through the long hours on the field. This would explain the red-rimmed eyes and erratic behavior in the locker room.

When will it end? When will he finally give up and try to break his contract? Only time will tell.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath and close the article. Cory is the healthiest guy I know; there is no way he’s doing drugs, especially during the season. I don’t believe one word of the article besides the red-rimmed eyes. In interviews I’ve seen recently, I can tell he’s still not the same man I fell in love with, but he does look healthier than a month ago.

Needing that reassurance, I send Jason a text.

Natalie: Is he okay?

Jason doesn’t text back until later that afternoon, but his short text gives me peace of mind.

Jason: Yes, he’s good.





End of August





Natalie: Is he okay?

Jason: Better.

I look at Lake Michigan as I sit across from Frankie Donut, getting lost in one of my favorite places in Chicago. Today is his birthday and I’m tempted to send him a text, to let him know I’ve been thinking about him, every day, almost every hour, but something’s holding me back. Pride? Hurt? Nerves? Whatever it is, I decide to text my brother instead.

Natalie: Is he having a good birthday?

Jason: I think so. We got him a cake, surprised him. He looked like he was going to cry from being overwhelmed.

My lip trembles just thinking about Cory’s reaction. Through Jason, I know the team has slowly tried to get closer to Cory. It’s taken a lot of time and a lot of trust, but over the last month, the team has become a solid unit, sticking together and having Cory’s back, even to the point that now the players are tweeting about the false articles about Cory and starting to contradict each of them with a picture of Cory hard at work, laughing with the guys, or eating a pizza. I know this because I have the hashtag “PotterWatch” on alert.

The negative articles are becoming fewer and further between, but the fans still seem to not appreciate Cory for who he is; the best first baseman in baseball, let alone the best bat in baseball as well.

Glad that he at least has the guys, I text back.

Natalie: I’m glad. You didn’t try to kiss him, did you?

Jason: You know I did, and you know I got his cheek before he pushed me away.

I chuckle to myself, as I wish I could have seen that.

Natalie: He seems happy though?

Jason: No, but I think that has everything to do with you. Come on, Nat, why don’t you just talk to him?

Natalie: You and I both know I can’t do that. He thought I was dispensable.

Jason: He thought he was helping you, fuck . . . I said I wouldn’t get in the middle of this.

Natalie: I’m sorry. I’ll stop asking.

Jason: Don’t stop, Nat. He needs more people caring about him. Just don’t stop.

I stare at the text message, Jason’s words ringing in my ears. I stand from my chair and take a walk. It’s all too fucking much.





Chapter Thirty





CORY





September





“Are you fucking ready?” Jason asks, coming up to me and massaging my shoulders, bouncing up and down. “We are clinching today. We are fucking clinching.”

End of September, the playoffs are right around the corner, and if we win today, we win our division, which puts us in a pretty spot when it comes to the playoffs. Giving us home field advantage. It will be the first time in seven years the Rebels make it to the playoffs, the first time in twenty years that they win their division, and Jason is right, it’s happening tonight.

“Is the boss ready?” Maddox asks, walking by while Jason does some weird fucking jig.

“Ready,” I say, slipping on one of my socks, feeling really fucking good for the first time in a month. Maybe because the season is almost over, which means I get to finally relax, after what will hopefully be a successful playoff run. Maybe because the guys have rallied behind me, shooting down every article or fan who tries to say anything negative about me. Whatever it is, this billowing tightness, that’s been eating away at me all season, has slowly started to dissipate.

The “PotterWatch” hashtag has been . . . fuck . . . it’s funny. Because the guys have gotten into it now. Every day, at least a few of them has posted photoshopped pictures of me on their social media accounts. It was Jason’s idea. Since the media wasn’t letting up, he said let’s take control of it ourselves and they started counteracting every story with one of their own, or sharing ridiculous pictures of me doing stupid shit like meeting the Queen of England or shaking hands with Leonardo DiCaprio on a movie set, or bench-pressing one thousand pounds. Really stupid, horribly photoshopped shit that has me laughing hysterically every time I see one.

Laughing . . .

They have me laughing, which was a sound I hadn’t heard in a really long time.

Unfortunately, the fans haven’t gotten on the we like Cory train yet, but I’m not sure that will ever change. It’s just going to have to be my new norm at this point.

“Fuck, I’m so pumped right now, I think I have a boner.” Jason says this while sitting next to me and draping his arm over my shoulders, squeezing tight.