Although he’d left Trovare an hour early, the traffic on the Embarcadero had backed up and Alex was nearly late for batting practice. At least he missed the press interviews in the locker room. Not so the press on the field.
“Hey, Tavonesi! What’s the prognosis for Sunday?”
“I never make predictions,” he said to the network reporter. “You know that.”
“Yeah, well, what about Cincinnati?” the reporter asked, holding out the mike. “Hitting territory?”
“Cincinnati has Cepedes. He’s throwing sharp. I can’t bat anybody in unless they get on the bag.”
“How’s the wrist holding up?”
Alex met the reporter’s stare.
“Just glad to be part of the team,” he said as he turned away and headed for the clubhouse.
There was no way he was going to announce to the pitchers he’d be facing that his wrist was giving him trouble. He’d already doubled up on physical therapy and tripled up on ibuprofen. He didn’t like taking anything stronger; it made him fuzzy and affected his sight. And he didn’t want to resort to cortisone, not in his wrist; too risky. What he was doing would just have to work.
He peeled off his practice uniform and tossed it in the bin, then reached into his locker for his game uniform. He started to suit up, but decided to shower first. He hadn’t taken time to wash off the vineyard dust.
When he returned to his locker, Scotty was already suited up and sitting on the bench next to it.
“I made the gala,” Scotty said. “Danced with Sabrina.”
“I heard,” Alex said, his tone icier than he’d intended.
Scotty whistled. “Guess I don’t have to ask how the lovely Dr. Jackie took your absence.”
“She’s steamed. She tried to cover it, but she’s steamed.” Alex buttoned his jersey. “I made it there just as she was leaving.”
“Aw, just make it up to her. It’s not like you could’ve done anything.” He swatted Alex with his towel. “You could send flowers.”
“She’s not the type.”
They didn’t talk any more about Jackie—though Alex did grill Scotty about dancing with Sabrina—but when he took the field, Alex pivoted in the dirt near first base and quickly scanned the stands. He’d sent tickets to the Center, to Gage. Two sets. He saw Gage sitting behind the dugout and waved.
No Jackie. Not that he’d expected her.
The game started well. The Giants leaped to a four-run lead and held it. Scotty pitched six great innings before Walsh called in the bullpen. At his next at-bat, Alex whiffed at a curve ball and struck out, leaving two guys on base. He hated stranding base runners.
In the bottom of the eighth, he struck out again and didn’t like the feeling in his gut. His wrist was acting up, but that wasn’t his problem. He’d lost his focus. He should’ve seen the changeup coming. He’d tried to visualize and run his sequences in his head, but his mind seized on the image of Jackie’s face the night of the gala. He’d fought to keep her out of his head, but he knew why he was failing now. He cursed whatever power had made him so damn sensitive to letting people down. It wasn’t helping him or anybody else right now.
As Romaro, their closer, threw warm-up pitches, Alex glanced up into the seats near the visitors’ dugout. The Giants’ mascot was jiggling around in his seal suit, playing to the families, lighting up the kids. And reminding Alex of Jackie and the Center. But seeing the grins on the kids’ faces planted an idea in his mind. A terrific idea. It would be perfect if he could work it out. But that’s what the team had assistants and PR people for, to work stuff out. He felt lighter just picturing his idea. Jackie wouldn’t want flowers as an apology, but she’d love this.
After the game, the locker room was livelier than usual, especially with a win like tonight’s. Even Romaro managed to crack a smile.
“Saw you talking to the brass,” Scotty said as they walked back from the showers.
“I wrangled a day at the ballpark for the Center. There was one slot open on the twenty-third.”
Scotty let out his low whistle. “What’d that cost you?”
“I asked them to trade you to Kentucky Triple A,” Alex said with a grin. “Told them you’d like the food better.”
“Remind me not to be nice to you, Alex. It goes to your head.”
When he got back to his apartment, Alex called Michael Albright and told him about his plan. The man sounded genuinely grateful.
“It might be best to let a couple days go by before you tell Jackie,” Alex suggested. “I think she’s pretty pissed that I missed the gala.”
“She’s good at that,” Michael said. “But why do I think you see her good side?”
“I’ll need the Center’s logo sent over to marketing.” Alex ignored Michael’s probing. “They want it tomorrow. Something about short notice and all that.”
“Done. Anything else?”
Alex wanted to say yes, sweet-talk your ace vet for me, but he’d seen enough of the two of them interacting to know that wouldn’t do any good.
“Nope.” He paused, then added, “At least you know I’ll make this one.”