CURVE BALL

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Chapter Seven

The Minneapolis Star Tribune blared, “Only a Hubert Humphrey campaign rally can be compared to this seventh game of the World Series. The crowd will be as large inside the stadium as out.”

Jack Rakow tossed the newspaper aside. This was his day. He earned the spot to start this game. He was a shoo-in for rookie of the year, or so he had heard. He’d won over twenty games and lost five. That didn’t include the third game of the Series. Losing never sat well with Jack… that one in particular. He told himself he should have won, but it seemed the Dodger players always knew what he was about to throw. Now he reached for a cigarette.

“Jack, what time is it?” her voice from the hotel bedroom pierced the quiet.

He forgot how long he was sitting at the table. He checked his watch---3 a.m. Shit. He turned around. He didn’t recall who she was. He brushed his hand through his hair. He did remember he and his teammates had gone to a bar. It must have been around 9 or 10 in the evening. They got him beers and after awhile the bartender didn’t care he was underage. Someone introduced her…. They drank… must have been shots. He remembered looking around and realized everyone else had left.

“Jack?”

She stood in the doorway with a sheet draped around her. “Don’t you want any more?” She slowly slid the linen down from her shoulders. Her skin was white. He knew its softness. He watched the sheet glide down her body. It revealed her rounded breasts, and then her mid-section and her waist. “Well?” She asked.

He didn’t move. “Keep going.”

She gave a little laugh. “Okay, if this gets you off.” She turned her back to him. The sheet inched down her hips to the top of her ass as she did a little dance.

He didn’t make a conscious decision to move from the chair to her. It was more like a magnetic pull.

He heard a sound. At first it gnawed at the fringes of his sleep. The sound got louder, as he awoke. He identified the clamor and sat up in bed. Someone was pounding on the door. He looked over and the girl was asleep next to him. Holy shit. He grabbed his pants from the floor and raced out of the bedroom. He didn’t quite close the door.

“I know you’re in there. You good for nothing son-of-a-bitch,” a voice shouted on the other side of the door. “That’s my sixteen year old daughter with you and I’m going to break every bone in both your bodies.”

He almost fell over a chair in the living room. He looked back toward the bedroom. Oh shit. Last night, she was sixteen? Couldn’t be, she knew much more than he. Oh, God, what to do? He grabbed the top of the chair. What time was it? 9 a.m. Shit. He had to leave and get to the ballpark.

“I tell you open up. You fuck’n Jew bastard. Think you own the world. Jesus if you fucked my daughter I’m going to the cops. That’s what I’ll do.”

He stood stock- still and listened. Holy shit, he wouldn’t do that, would he? He thought he heard the clock in the bedroom ticking. He waited afraid to take a breath. Finally there was no more knocking or shouting. He heard footsteps going away from his door.

“What the fuck was that about?” she asked.

He spun around and grabbed his chest. “Huh, you scared the crap out of me. I think that was your old man. He said you’re only sixteen?” Jack asked. He said a prayer to himself.

“What’s the diff? We had a good time. You’re pretty good in there.” She said and nodded toward the bedroom.

“Thanks, well, you are too.” Crap. What was he doing? The seventh game of the World Series was this afternoon. “Look I had a great time and all, but I’m pitching today and I should be at the ball park.”

She closed in on him and rubbed against him. “Oh what’s a few more minutes. It’ll be your lucky day.”

“Right.” Her hands moved up and down his torso and then massaged his crotch. It took a minute or so to break her spell. “Really, I can’t. Besides, who ever that was outside the door, said he was calling the cops. You have to leave.”

She dropped her hands. “Can’t I shower?”

“Shower? No, don’t you understand? Who are you, anyway?”

“Now I’m hurt. We fucked like little bunnies all night and you don’t even know my name?”

He could feel his face flush. “No, sorry. I remember the bar and the drinks. He took a long look, “and of course your body.”

She leaned towards him. “Well fuck you Jack Rakow. I know everything about you. You’ve been on my list for awhile.”

“List?”

“Uh-huh. I love screwing ball players. Thank your team mates for setting you up.”

“Put your clothes on and get out.”

She went to the bedroom and dressed. She picked her purse from the coffee table and took her coat off the couch.

“Thanks for a great time,” she said at the door, “and Jack I am only sixteen. Just wait until it makes the papers. See yah.”

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