Prologue 

Avery

June 2005

“Hey Diamond Girl,” Arthur says to me as I climb the steps to the press booth. Arthur has been around for as long as I can remember, but his game calling skills have been lacking in his old age, which means I’ve taken over. I love it; this is where I’m meant to be. “Hey Arthur, how’s it going today?”

“Still here, so I can’t complain too much.” I just laugh. Taking my seat I look down at the field and watch the team take batting and fielding practice. Immediately my eyes hone in on Cade, he’s off to the side warming up with Timmy Thompson, the team’s catcher.

Today is a big day; the Holland Dutch are playing for the state championship. I watch Cade for a few more minutes and notice his number one pitch, his slider, is missing the target every time. That’s odd, he never misses that pitch. After watching closely for a few more pitches I finally figure out what he’s doing. I grab the mic and yell down, “Hey Sawyer, you’re twisting your wrist too much.” I see him look up at the booth and start laughing, shaking his head. “You taking over as coach now too, Ace?”

I laugh, “Depends on how dad does today. Why you need some extra help? I do house calls, you know.” At this he laughs out loud, “I’ll remember that Ace.” I blow him a kiss and let him get back at it.

I’m going to marry that boy someday. I look down and put a protective hand across my flat belly. I just found out last week that I’m pregnant. I haven’t told Cade yet because I want him to concentrate on the playoffs and not on our impending futures and on me and the baby.

A baby was not in the plans. The plan was for Cade to go to Indiana University to play ball and I was going to go to Purdue to study journalism. I wanted to be close to Cade but I didn’t want to follow him wherever he went either, this way we were only separated by a two-hour drive. We could survive that. 

But, this baby changes things. I can’t raise a baby on my own, nor should Cade have to live so far from his baby. This is definitely something we’ll have to talk about. I plan on telling him tonight after the game, or maybe tomorrow if the game doesn’t go well; but definitely soon.

The Dutch pulled out the win and as always Cade was awesome. He threw six scoreless innings, only allowing two hits and one walk. As soon as they came out of the locker room I ran at him, jumping up in his arms. He caught me and immediately our lips found each other. “Good game, baby!” I practically shout against his lips. He just chuckles, “Thanks, Ace.”

Setting me down he takes my hand in his, as we walk towards his car. “So, what’s the plan tonight?”

“I think we’re all headed to Thompson’s house to celebrate. You in?”

“Sure.”

The party is in full swing by the time we get there. As soon as we walk in Timmy hands Cade a beer and offers me one that I turn down.  After a while Cade and I get separated as I end up with some of the other girlfriends in one room and he ends up downstairs with the guys.

I look at my phone and realize it’s after midnight and I’m ready to go. I had my own celebration plans for tonight, which included just the two of us. I go downstairs to seek him out but can’t find him. I head out to the back patio where I’ve seen a bunch of people hanging around and ask a few people if they’ve seen him, no one has.  Finally, I walk around to the side of the house and see him there leaning up against the wall. He’s not alone. Britney Simpson has her hands all over him, pressing up against him. I can’t hear what’s being said but I don’t need to, everything I’m seeing is enough.

Britney fucking Simpson, seriously? It really shouldn’t surprise me; she’s the class slut. In fact, I’d bet Cade is the only guy in our class she hasn’t been with, since we’ve been together for last two years. Well, at least I don’t think they’ve been together. Though they seem pretty cozy right now.

I sneak back through the house and call my mom to come get me, I can’t be here anymore. I don’t want to tell her what I saw because I’m not exactly sure, all I know is I have to leave.

I find myself sitting on the curb a few houses down, balling my eyes out with my hand wrapped around my stomach. What am I going to do now? How can I have a baby with him if he’s cheating on me?

My parents call and tell me they are right around the corner so I stand up to meet them, hoping to make a quick getaway before Cade comes looking for me. As soon as I hop in the car my mom starts comforting me, “oh baby, what happened? Are you hurt?”

“No mom I’m not hurt, physically anyways. I don’t want to talk about it; I just want to go home.”

We only live a mile down the road from the Thompson’s so the drive should have been quick. I expected to be home within a matter of minutes. I did not expect to spend my night in the hospital.

Avery

April 2013

You lost the baby. I’m so sorry for your losses.

Avery jumped up gasping for air. She hadn’t had that nightmare in years. It must be stress. Or the fact that you’re going to see him again, her subconscious rather rudely reminded her.

Today was a new day she thought to herself. Today she takes the first major step towards achieving her dream as a sports broadcaster; it is her first day at Fox Sports Detroit as an assistant, but it’s a foot in the door.

Avery had always known she would go into some form of journalism; she always loved writing. She used to write short stories all the time when she was younger, before she was jaded and angry, when she used to imagine a world full of good things. Her freshman year at DePaul she took an intro to broadcasting class and knew she was meant for that job, especially doing sports broadcasting.

She grew up with the nickname Diamond Girl, her dad being the Varsity baseball coach at the high school for as long as she could remember, meant she spent countless hours at the field. She would take stats and sometimes keep the scorebook. If she was lucky Arthur would let her be the announcer for a game or two, when he wasn’t feeling up to it; by the time her senior year came around she was the full time announcer. In hindsight she should have known she would choose a field that incorporated both of her passions.

Shaking off the memory of her past she stood and tripped on a few books and empty boxes, “damn it,” she had moved into her new apartment only a few days prior and was still working on unpacking. “I really need to finish putting this shit away.”

Slider, her fat, black and white cat greeted her in the hallway meowing and crying, “Yeah, yeah fatty, I’m coming. Don’t worry I won’t let you starve.” After feeding Slider she got going on the rest of her morning routine, coffee first then shower.

She stared at her clothes selection in disgust, I really need to do some shopping; especially if I want to be taken seriously and given the opportunity to go on air. Unfortunately, after living on her own for the last eight years she didn’t have much. After graduating with a broadcast journalism degree from DePaul University she took any job she could to help beef up her resume. She typically worked a minimum wage (if she was lucky) or unpaid internship in a studio during the day, while waitressing or bartending at night to pay the bills.

Resigning to spend a portion of her first check on a new wardrobe she settled on a simple black pencil skirt and ivory silk capsleeve blouse. Wrapping her shoulder length, stick straight brown hair into what she hoped was a sophisticated French twist and then polising off her look with a touch of peach blush to add color to her nearly translucent skin, a bit of brown eye shadow that highlighted her green eyes and some clear gloss on her almost too full lips. Not too bad, she thought. 

She slipped into a pair of black pumps taking one last glance in the mirror. The pumps added the extra two inches she desperately needed, she was of average height around 5’5” but she had curves, lots of curves, the heels helped trick the eye into thinking she was straighter in the hip area.

Deciding to lease an apartment in downtown Detroit, which meant having about a twenty-minute drive to the studios. I wanted to be downtown because I loved the atmosphere, I love watching the fans party before and after the games, even after a loss.

When I first walk into the studio, I am greeted my an extremely happy, extremely gorgeous girl at the reception desk, “Hi. You must Avery?”

“Yes. I’m starting today, I’m John Monroe’s new assistant.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” her smile was so large I thought her face was going to tear in half, “my name is Britney!” Of course it was. Britney had long blonde hair that was perfectly curled on the ends and stunning blue eyes, so blue in fact I would bet money that they were contacts; she wore the smoky-eye effect well but was that much make-up necessary for work? She had on a tight red dress that looked as if she ate more than lettuce for lunch it would tear in two pieces. “Let me show you to your desk.”

I gave her a small smile and nod of my head, I didn’t want to be rude and create any enemies on my first day but there was no way this girl and I could ever be friends. I followed Britney down the hall a ways, passing pictures of former hall of famers in every sport and even some reporters I remember watching growing up. I smiled to myself and took a deep breath; this was where I always wanted to be.

She led me to the end of the hall where one office door sat right in the middle and pointed to a desk to the right of the door, “here’s your desk and John’s office is here.”

“Thank you, what time does Mr. Monroe usually get in?”

She checked her watch before answering, I knew I was a little early but I wanted to get situated before he got here, “He’ll be here in a few minutes. He’s very punctual so I would expect him to walk in right at 8:30. But don’t call him Mr. Monroe, he hates that; everyone here calls him John.”

“Great, thanks again Britney”

She smiled and started to walk away but stopped herself; “if you don’t have plans for lunch I’d love to take you out, show you the best spots to go.”

Crap. This is why I wasn’t nice to people, they tended to latch on and I just couldn’t afford to have any connections… to anyone, ever. “Um, let me see how my morning goes and I’ll let you know. Thanks.”

After she left I settled down in my new chair at my new desk and took a look around. My desk was pretty much right in the middle of the hallway, which meant zero privacy but that also meant everyone would have to acknowledge me, hopefully I would get my chance on air sooner rather than later.

My desk was simple and plain; it held a phone and a computer, nothing else. The only personal touch I added was a picture frame.  The frame held a picture from my senior year of high school - it was a candid shot of me and my then boyfriend, Cade Sawyer; I was looking at the camera laughing while he was nuzzling my neck, most likely saying something completely inappropriate.  We looked like we were crazy in love, and we were but that was a long time ago. I only carried it with me because it was the last time I remember being happy, complete.

As if on cue my boss walks in, smiling as he heads my way. I shoved my past and my feelings aside – standing up I put my hand out to great him. He was of average build; balding so I would guess he was in his mid to late fifties, maybe younger. But of course he was still good looking, because you can’t put an ugly face on the air after all.

“Mr. Monroe, I’m Avery. Nice to finally meet you.” He gave me a stern look and for a second I started to panic, then I saw the corners of his mouth tip up. “Call me Mr. Monroe again and you and I will have problems. It’s John and it’s very nice to meet you Ms. Fisher.” I laughed; I couldn’t help myself. “Point taken. Thanks for the opportunity, John. I’m looking forward to starting.”

“Well come on in then and let’s get to it.” I smiled. I was definitely going to be happy here. 

Cade

April 2013

Today was the sixth game of the season and our second game on the road. We were in Minnesota this week and I was set to start. I was in my fourth season with the Detroit Tigers and this year I was pitching out of the one spot. What does that mean? That means I have a shit ton of pressure on me to do well, every time I step onto that mound. Don’t get me wrong baseball is and always will be my number one and I always give 110% but this year feels different, bigger.

I head into the locker room to get changed for practice before the game. “Yo, Cade! How you feeling today, man? You ready to go?”

I turn and see our catcher Dom coming towards me, “You know it.” I flash him my signature smile, the one that tells the world I’m the shit and no one is going to knock me down.

“Sweet!” He reaches me and we fist bump as we make our way into the locker room. Dominic Alvarez and I have been playing together since college, we were both stoked when he got traded to the team last year - I couldn’t wait to have him behind the plate again. Not only was he my go to guy on game-day but he was always my wingman, too and a damn great one at that. The girls love him and his accent; he’s from Costa Rica but he’s been in the States long enough that you can actually understand what he’s saying, unlike half of the other guys on the team. He has naturally dark skin, hair and eyes but his smile is so bright the girls are always falling all over him when he flashes it.

As soon as we get into the visitors locker room I head to my locker to change into my practice gear and hit the field. Usually my pre-game warm up consists of a little running, stretching and throwing a few pitches; every once in a while I’ll jump in the outfield and shag a few fly balls during batting practice.

Most stadiums start letting fans in a couple of hours early to watch BP and of course to get autographs, so on my way back into the locker room I stop and sign baseballs, jerseys and gloves for a few kids. Always for the kids.

After a quick shower, I grab a bite to eat and then start to put my game gear on. Slipping on my Tigers jersey, embroidered with the name Sawyer on the back, is one of the best feelings in the world. Every single day I’m grateful for where I am, sometimes I still can’t believe that I made it, that I accomplished my dream.

“Alright, lets hit the field fellas. We got a game to win,” I chuckle to myself - Coach is the best there is but he is a man of few words. We head out to the field and I take my spot on the mound, lets do this.

After the game the guys are all pumped in the locker room. We won 4-0. I pitched seven shut out innings only allowing two base runners, one hit by pitch because the jackass wouldn’t back off the plate and our bullpen came in and threw two more perfect innings.

“Hey, you coming out tonight Sawyer?” Dom is always looking for some excuse to party, to him it’s just another opportunity to pick up some random chick. But, what are friends for right?  “Hell yeah, I’m coming. Where we going?”

“I think we’re just going to hit the hotel bar.” Of course. The hotel bar is the easiest place to pick up girls; any girl that hangs out at the hotel bar is pretty much a sure thing. I just laugh and shake my head. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid anyways; I might as well live it up tonight.

I wasn’t always a player. There used to be a girl, I thought she was the one for me. I could see myself with her, settling down and starting a family, shit I would’ve given up baseball for this girl if she asked me to. But, of course she wouldn’t do that, she loved baseball almost as much as I did. Her dad was my Varsity baseball coach and she was our Diamond Girl; more importantly she was my girl. That is until the day she bailed, she just took off running and never looked back. Eight fucking years and I still get a pain in my chest when I think about her. 

Fuck. I really need to get laid now. I look up and notice the rest of the guys are already starting to head out. “Yo, hold up. I’m coming.”

We all pile out of the busses that we charter to take us to and from the hotel and stadium and head straight to the bar. Immediately I notice there are tons of women in here, some worth the time, some not so much. Though let’s be honest, I don’t usually have to do much more than shoot my signature smile at whatever one, or ones, I'm feeling. 

I notice a blonde sitting at the end of the bar by herself nursing a tall beer. Her tits are practically falling out of her top, which of course was her goal. I decide I’m going to take her upstairs as soon as I have a beer or two.

“Hey handsome. Good game.” I look up and find a nice pair of tits staring me in the face; I drag my gaze up farther and notice it’s the blonde from earlier, well that didn’t take long.

Looking back at her boobs I mutter, “thanks, nice tits” She just giggles and I know this is a done deal. “What do you say you head upstairs with me?”

She grabs my hand and practically drags me off the stool and out of the bar. I barely registered the guys hooting and hollering as I leave but all I can do is laugh and adjust my jeans because apparently my dick already knows what’s happening here.

As soon as the elevator opens I push the button for the top floor and then shove her against the wall and immediately my hands are on her perfectly, large, fake breasts. Damn it. I should’ve known it was too good to be true. Oh well, it’s still an easy lay. I start assaulting her mouth, on a moan she opens her mouth and her tongue starts mingling with mine.

“Don’t you want to know my name?” she asks when we have to come up for air.

I can be a dick. I real fucking dick. Right now for example I want to spit out Lil Wayne lyrics to this girl- baby, just make me come; then don't make a sound. Dude is a genius. As much as I want to tell her that, I won't. But what I decide to say probably isn't much better. "No not really. I'm going to make your night, maybe even your week then you're going to leave and I'll never see you again. You game?"

She thinks on it for a half second and then she’s back on me. Yeah, that’s what I thought.