Last Strike

Press Conference

Ashton’s POV:

I never should have agreed to this press conference, but sadly, I knew it couldn’t be avoided. My life would only get worse if I kept dodging the press. I sat nervously in Elizabeth’s office, waiting for Jacob to head downstairs to the press room.

She stretched out her arm and handed me a tiny earbud device. “Keep this in your ear. I will relay answers to you for any challenging questions.” I stared at her questioningly, asking, “Aren’t you going to be there with me?”

Her sudden grin reminded me of the Cheshire Cat. “Oh no, I’ll be hiding in the background. My work is typically done in stealth mode.”

“What, like The Wizard of Oz?”

Liz laughed so hard at that question that she snorted, causing her face to flush pink. I tried my best not to laugh, but I couldn’t hold it any longer. For a brief moment, we managed to behave as if we didn’t hate one another.

“Just wear the earpiece. I’ll feed you answers. Just do your best to act naturally.”

Jacob knocked on the office door. “Ash, are you ready? They’re waiting for us in the press room.” I looked over at Elizabeth, who gave me a thumbs-up. My stomach felt like a giant knot had formed. I popped in the earbud and followed Jacob out of the office towards the awaiting lion’s den.

The flashes from multiple cameras temporarily distorted my vision. I carefully stepped up to the stage and took a seat behind the table, staring out at a sea of gossip-hungry reporters. Jacob took a seat next to me. I felt a slight buzz in my ear, then heard Liz’s silky voice resonate against my eardrum: “Take a deep breath and stay calm.”

Reporters hounded me with one grueling question after another. All of which pertained to my recent arrest and faltering public image. Elizabeth fed me a never-ending stream of answers. I could only pray that my answers didn’t seem rehearsed or come off as being too polished.

Jacob announced that we had time for only one more question and gestured towards a leggy blonde in the front row, who had been flashing me her best bedroom eyes during the entire press conference. She leaned forward in her seat, pushing her breasts up in the process to give me a clear view of her cleavage. She smiled coyly and asked, “Mr. Tate, is it true that you have a rule of only ever having s*x with a woman once, which has led to you being branded baseball’s biggest playboy?”

Elizabeth’s voice sighed through the earbuds, followed by her saying, “Wow, that woman’s really classy. This one’s on you, Tate. I don’t have a correct answer to a question like this unless you’re willing to admit it and say you want to change your ways. That’s your call.”

Time to bite the bullet. I stared out at the crowd of reporters, avoiding eye contact with the blonde who had just blindsided me with this question. I rubbed my jawline and took a deep breath before answering, “Look, I’m well aware of my reputation and will acknowledge that I deserve the labeling of being a Playboy. I’ve made some poor choices in the past, but right now my focus is on playing baseball and staying out of trouble.”

When the crowd dispersed, Jacob and I made our way towards the locker room. Elizabeth stood in the hallway, chatting with Malcom. It dawned on me that she must have turned her mic off because I hadn’t heard any of their conversation through the earbud. I slipped the device out of my ear — thankful to no longer have her voice in my head.

Malcom caught me staring at the two of them chatting, and a sly smirk crossed his face. He spoke loud enough for me to hear him clearly, “Speak of the devil, I guess we should stop talking about him now, Lizzy.”

When she looked at me, I found myself struggling to decipher the expression on her face. There was a time in my life when I could easily read her, but clearly, a lot has changed over the years. She’s no longer an open book, and I found that realization unsettling.

Why was it bothering me?

****

Elizabeth’s POV:

Why is Ashton looking at me like I suddenly sprouted a second head? Do I have something on my face? Being in such proximity to him now after so many years is rattling my nerves a bit. It’s bad enough that I barely slept last night, knowing that he was in the very next room.

Ashton stretched out his hand, holding the earbud to return it to me. I said, “You successfully survived the press conference. Step one is complete.”

His eyes blinked rapidly. “Wait, you mean it’s not over?”

I knew that it would be insensitive to laugh. So I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from chuckling. “No, it’s far from over. We still have a lot of work to do, but for today it’s over. For now, just focus on the game. I’ll come find you afterward. No hiding in the locker room this time.”

Malcolm nudged Ashton’s arm. “Lizzy, I promise that he won’t hide.”

“Thanks, Malcolm. I’m holding you to that. Best of luck in the game today, boys.”

As they stepped out of the locker room, Jacob was walking out. He spotted me and said, “You’re welcome to watch from the executive suite, Elizabeth, or would you prefer to sit somewhere else again?”

I flashed him a slight grin, “I’m glad you asked, Jacob. Can I get a seat behind home plate somewhere between rows five, six, or seven?”

Jacob shook his head and chuckled, “You are so much like your father. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll have a seat arranged for you.”

Thankfully, this time I wasn’t sitting among any reporters. I could actually focus on the game, occasionally hearing fans gossip about Ashton, but I did my best to tune them out. His reputation had taken a severe beating, but I was confident I could help him repair the damage.

When he stepped up to the plate, my vision became laser-focused on him and every small detail of his batting stance. I wouldn’t expect his stance to be exactly the same as it was back in college, but I knew that it would be pretty similar at least. Given all the hours I spent in batting cages with Ashton and watching him play, I could still picture it in my mind — the placement of his hands on the bat, how far apart he’d place his feet, even how high he’d hold his bat up in the air.

Wow, I feel slightly pathetic realizing that I still remember so much about him. Ugh, this is not the time to take a stroll down memory lane. I need to focus on the job and finish this assignment. The faster I get his career back on track, the sooner I can get the hell away from him. Naturally, the moment I managed to pull myself out of my wandering thoughts was when Ashton would cast his eyes into the stands and see me.

Our eyes locked for a brief moment. I sat frozen like a fancy ice sculpture. Thankfully, he quickly regained his focus and stepped into the batter’s box. I waited with bated breath to see if he would make contact with the ball or if he was destined for another strikeout.

Surprisingly, they chose to walk him intentionally, and he didn’t even have a chance to take a swing.

For the remainder of the game, every time he came up to bat, I felt as if he was intentionally avoiding looking up into the stands. Was he annoyed that I was watching the game, or more accurately, studying him?

The team won the game, but Ashton was still struggling. I stood outside the locker room, waiting for Malcolm to emerge with Ashton as he had promised before the game. If they’re thinking I won’t step foot back into that room again, they’re sadly mistaken. I glanced down at my watch and decided to give them ten more minutes.

With only a few seconds left, Malcolm stepped into the hallway with Ashton following behind him. “You’re lucky that you finally came out because I was seconds away from walking in there.”

Malcolm’s hands shot up in surrender, “No need, Lizzy. I kept my promise. We do have a small favor to ask of you, though.”

I could already feel that I wasn’t going to like this favor. “What do you want?”

Malcolm flashed me his trademark smile. “To celebrate our win, the team is going out for drinks…”

Before he could finish that statement, I knew where this was headed and interrupted him, “And you two want to know if Ashton can join you or if I’m going to step in and say that he shouldn’t?”

Ashton snapped, “Damn it, Lizzy, I’m a grown man. I don’t know why Malcolm felt like we needed to ask in the first place. I’m going, and you can’t stop me.”

Malcolm took a step back, distancing himself from the two of us. He’s not stupid. I straightened my posture, giving myself time to think of my response. I’d love to haul off and smack that arrogant look off his pretty-boy face, but I knew that wouldn’t serve any purpose other than making me feel better.

I exhaled a calculated, slow breath. “First off, I told you that you’re not allowed to call me Lizzy. Next, all it would take is one visit from me to the executive offices, and they’d be looking to trade you. So don’t think you somehow have the upper hand in all of this…”

I watched him flinch as his hands tightened into fists by his sides, and I knew I had hit a nerve. I continued, “If you’re so hell-bent on going, then go ahead, but if you end up in tomorrow morning’s headlines, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

With that said, I walked past the two of them, leaving them to make their own poor choices.