When she saw Oscar wave them down, Rusti didn’t hesitate. The seats their boss had gotten them sucked, too far up, even though they would have been catered snacks and beverages. She gathered her handbag and Coke and led the way. Katherine followed. They forgot all about meeting with Oscar’s agent.

  “Those pants aren’t tight enough,’’ Rusti said offhandedly.

  No they weren’t, Kat mused. She was amazed by her own reaction to seeing the ballplayer again. In the car she hated even hearing about him, now he didn’t seem so bad. She was actually worried for a deep second that he might react in a funny way to seeing her at his game. She had to catch herself. What had she done to him? Nothing. He was the one that had been so torn up that he didn’t know where he was laying his head.

  Vidal came closer. He was grinning ear to ear when he said, “Which one is mine, Yo?’’

  He looked at Vidal and said with confidence, “You couldn’t handle either.’’

  Oscar watched Rusti and Katherine. Katherine. She sure was attractive, he noticed from the distance of just about one hundred yards down.

  Oscar went to the railing and called to Pops, one of only two Black ushers in the building. He was an aged man that should have been enjoying retirement in a warm weather locale. Instead he drove for his church most of the week and needed that seasonal job at Adkins to live off of. Although he had been working Adkins for more than twenty years, Oscar and Jack were the only players that actually paid him any mind.

  Pops came down from his post as quickly as a seventy-year-old man could. But don’t be fooled. He was pretty spry. The fans seated near Oscar were calling to him, waving stuff and saying all kinds of things from “Hey bum’’ to “Hit one for me.’’

  “Pops, I need two,’’ O said. He described the women, saying they would be there in seconds.

  “I got you.’’ Pops knew that Oscar would take care of him. He always did.

  Pops knew all the seats in his section. He knew who would be late and who was going to be a no-show for the matinee. He saw the women, couldn’t miss the cheerful red head. He guided them to two of a City Councilman’s four box seats. The councilman rarely attended day games. His seats were two rows from the Crowns dugout. If he had showed, Pops had plenty of alternatives. Those women were going to sit as close to the action as possible. In his mind, Pops had already spent the hefty tip.

  Oscar stepped into the dugout and was approached by a coach. “You are not starting,’’ the thin, short white man had said, his first words to Oscar since he was hired.

  O paid it little attention, no big deal was his reaction. Once he sat on the bench he gave it more thought. It would have been nice to show Katherine what he was: a great baseball player.

  But Louis made it a big deal. The manager chose that time to pick a fight with his defiant superstar. In his defense, Louis actually thought he was doing the right thing by the organization. He just never understood that the Oscar Taylor he had trained in the minors over a decade ago was more than just a heavy drinker and a womanizer. He was the man on the Portland Crowns.

  Oscar poured himself some water near the manager and caught his words.

  “Do you understand why you are not playing today?’’

  O downed the cup empty and nodded his head. He understood it was deeper than just a day off, but he damn sure was not in the mood for any bullshit. He looked for the furthest seat from the manager.

  But that wasn’t good enough for Louis. He saw this as a chance to show who ran the Portland Crowns on the field. Louis’s hatred of what Oscar Taylor had become had boiled over after seeing the best pure hitter in baseball passed out on the trainer’s table before a game. He followed Oscar.

  “You are a disgrace. Look at yourself. You can’t stand for more than a minute at a time. Disgusting. Look at how lazy money has made you. What a waste.’’

  He waved his hand at Oscar.

  O did not speak. He looked out across the field at the Montreal players.

  “I’m benching you for not preparing for a game properly. And use of profanity. An intelligent man does not have to use profanity in his daily dialogue. It shows ignorance.’’

  “Yeah. Okay.’’

  “You just don’t care. Do you?’’

  “Nope.’’

  “You want to play on this team?’’

  O sprang up, “Who are you to ask me that?’’

  His teammates jumped between Oscar and Louis. Jack pushed Oscar back into his spot on the bench. He sat next to his man and patted O’s thigh, “Forget it, O.’’

  “No, fuck this! Who the fuck is he to come at me like that? I have been on this team longer that he was ever in this fucking league.’’

  “Oscar, just let it go, man. Not here.’’

  Oscar turned his head to Jack and complained, “He should be a fucking man. He wants to be in charge of men.’’

  “Ignorant,’’ Louis uttered.

  More players came over, just to be in between the two men. The veterans knew Oscar was about to blow.

  O said, “All this pussying around is for faggots. You got a problem with me, speak to me. Come to me. Don’t bench me for no bullshit.’’

  “One more word and it will be two games you’ll miss without pay.’’

  Oscar bolted up, “Word!’’

  Jack rose and Pugsley got there. That was when the coaches came over.

  Louis became enraged, he barked, “You are a disgrace to Major League Baseball, the Portland Crowns and your family. Your mother must be proud.’’

  O hit Louis so hard and so fast that Pugs hadn’t seen Oscar move until he recoiled, and he was standing right next to him.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,’’ Jack said as he manhandled Oscar away from the fallen manager.

  “Let me go, man. Let me go. I’m cool.’’

  Jack moved him down the aisle of the dugout. Their teammates were in awe. Players from Montreal had stopped what they were doing. The fans above the third base dugout, Montreal’s side of the stadium, could see it all.

  Rusti and Katherine were oblivious to the goings on. Rusti had just ordered a hot dog, and Kat was on her company cell phone speaking with her brother. Robert wasn’t happy to not be at the game with them.

  “Just let me go. I’m out,’’ O said pointing to the field.

  A couple of players had helped Louis up. The punch in the face hurt like hell and turned his face plum red. It was going to leave a bruise.

  Oscar patted Jack’s tight grip around his bony chest. “Just let me go. I’m out.’’

  Jack let him go and walked with him down the steps and into the clubhouse.

  TWENTY

  In Salem, while the game was going on in Portland without Oscar, his soon to be ex-wife was contemplating leaving Oregon and all her memories behind and starting over in California.

  Her friend Edwin was leaving the next day and he was doing his best to convince Sondra that Los Angeles would be the move for her and her son. “Why stay here and be tormented?’’ he was saying.

  The two of them were alone in Sondra’s parents’ home. She was looking about the walls in the spacious living room accepting every thought that crossed her mind. Edwin was on a roll, spewing facts about Los Angeles in his rapid-fire manner of speaking. The house they were sitting in was all Sondra’s for the asking. Her parents had been talking about moving to a warmer climate for years. The house was paid for, thanks to Oscar...how ironic.

  It was too big, was Sondra’s first excuse. But deep down, especially on that particular day, she knew she wanted to move away. Far away.

  That was when Edwin said it. The words that helped him win the contest to be the person to help Sondra back on her feet.

  “Los Angeles is just far enough away. Nobody knows you, but you can visit in a matter of a few hours, whether you drive or fly. There’s beaches, the Arts, and of course me!’’

  Him. That was the true hold up. For years Oscar had wondered out loud whether Ed was bi-sexual and wanted Sondra. Sondra would laugh at the thought that Ed would want any part of a woman, let alone her.

  She spat out her worry, “How does Cardell feel about this?’’

  Edwin knew that question was coming. He had called his lover just that morning to be sure the door was open for Sondra and her son.

  He said, “I spoke with Cardell and he is euphoric. My Cardie is far from intractable. I give him the word and he will prepare our den for you and little man.’’

  “What am I going to do there?’’

  “Whatever you want to do. You can relax at the beach everyday for all I care. I just want that everlasting, warm smile back on the face of the most beautiful girl in the world. Our rent will be paid whether you work or not.’’

  She was beginning to see that this was her chance for a new start. No Oscar drama. No chance to run into that bastard Pablo. No family nagging her to be happy, to be outgoing, to not be alone.

  Edwin was the most optimistic person she knew. He had a lasting relationship with his man and there would definitely not be any sexual tension. Working for a living was a joke. Oscar was generous. Oscar will be able to see his son often. The Crowns play in the same division as the Los Angeles Trojans, they were bitter rivals and it seemed to So that the two teams played each other every week. The Trojans and Crowns play each other fourteen times a year, eight regular season games in each city, not including the possibility of the two teams meeting in the playoffs.

  The phone rang a good six times before Sondra realized that if she did not answer it no one would. Her parents were horrible at retrieving messages from their voicemail. It was her older sister calling from the flower shop. Cicley had heard on the radio about Oscar punching his manager.

  She announced, “Big time is losing it.’’

  Sondra knew who the subject was. “What are you talking about?’’

  “He punched his manager and is suspended,’’ Cicley said. “And you’re not going to help him. He could not suffer enough. I can’t believe you married that character.’’

  Sondra didn’t say anything. She listened, taking notice of how her sister wouldn’t say her husband’s name, but when she was in financial desperation she was able to ask Oscar for help. Amazing, she thought. Despite how well Oscar knew he was hated by Sondra’s family, he never hesitated to help them.

  “He is such an asshole,’’ her sister claimed.

  Yes, it was time to go, Sondra decided right then.

  Oscar tore up the clubhouse getting dressed. Jack was at his side, at a safe distance though. He was just making sure his boy was okay. Security had come to the clubhouse, but most of them had enjoyed to many large tips from Oscar to touch him, let alone throw him out as they had been ordered to do.

  Honeywell came in on the heels of the guards and moved past Jack.

  “We need you to take a drug test,’’ was all he said.

  Oscar was in his jeans and slipped on his sneakers. He looked up at the general manager, “Give me the fucking container.’’

  “Don’t take that test,’’ Jack protested. “Beep Mary.’’

  “Fuck it, I don’t care anymore.’’

  The team doctor moved out of nowhere and Oscar went with him.

  A player called down to Jack from the dugout. The game was beginning.

  “I need you to do me a favor,’’ Oscar said. “Give Pops a hundred for me. He hooked me up with seats. I’m just going straight out of here.’’

  They embraced.

  “O, man,’’ Jack said. “I’ll call you after the game, go home and chill.’’

  Mary Copeland had her lunch spread out on her clean desk. She had a tuna salad in a pita, two bottles of peach iced tea and a slice of apple pie that just called for her to select it. She was all set to enjoy the game from the comforts of the air-conditioned luxury box when they showed Oscar punch out his manager on the TV above her head. The station showed it three times before the start of the game.

  “Ain’t this about a bitch,’’ she grumbled.

  She speed dialed his cell phone and prayed he’d picked it up. He didn’t. She didn’t leave a message. She bit the sandwich, sipped one of the teas and snatched up her handbag and briefcase. On the elevator she could still taste the tuna. “Dammit Oscar!’’

  She put her bags down on the rugged and shiny chromed passenger elevator and dialed Honeywell’s cell.

  Honeywell had just left the clubhouse. He was at the elevator base, pressing for the same lift Mary was on. He answered his phone on the first ring. It was all static.

  The doors opened on the main floor, in the bowels of creaky, old Adkins. There, Mary and Honeywell met.

  “I was just trying to call you,’’ Mary bellowed with a lost look.

  There was no hello or small talk from the general manger. “He failed a urine analysis. He is suspended for two weeks without pay.’’

  “That is bullshit, JA. You know damned well you cannot submit him to any drug test against his will.’’

  “He obliged.’’

  “What is going on?’’

  “I don’t know. Ask him.’’ Honeywell sighed. “This is getting out of hand. Off the record, I think Slight has had enough of Oscar and not that that matters, because your client is destroying his life along with his livelihood.’’

  Mary said nothing, she knew that this was coming for years. Oscar listens to no one.

  “Your boy is out there. He tested positive for coke and Mary Jane. What’s up with that? That gets out and nobody will touch him for the league minimum salary.’’

  “You let that out and I’ll sue your ass faster than you can say poor house.’’

  She tossed her briefcase on her shoulder and headed for the clubhouse, knowing she wouldn’t be allowed in. She just wanted to meet her client before he did any more damage. Honeywell closed himself in the lift.

  Mary had just seen her gravy train derailed. She thanked Honeywell for the info he damned well did have to share and hung up in a funk. She could feel it was time for her too to dump Oscar. On her desk in her office across town, was a copy of the divorce papers, delivered that morning. Soon nobody was going to want to be associated with Oscar Taylor.

  This was it, she told herself. She was going to clean up this last mess and leave him alone. Mary waited almost an hour, while the game was going on, before someone could tell her that Oscar had left. Furious, she went back to her office. She had her secretary, the same girl she had heard Oscar had screwed in her office’s bathroom, phone Oscar every two minutes at every number they had for their number one client.

  Less than an hour later Mary’s phone beeped. “I’ve got Oscar on the phone,’’ the secretary announced.

  “Where are you?’’ was Mary’s first words.

  “On the road.’’

  “What happen?’’

  “I knocked the shit out of Leslie Louis.’’

  “Oscar?’’ she sighed. Will he ever get it? “Why did you take a drug test? They could not make you. You knew that.’’

  “Whatever. They knew I was getting high, I knew I was getting high. It’s over.’’

  “Yes it is. They suspended you, but they can also release you. Do you understand that? There is a clause in your contract that gives them an out if you failed a drug test. Straight out released. No money. Guaranteed contract gone. Null and void.’’

  “Whatever.’’

  “If that happens, I am gone. Our relationship will be null and void also.’’

  “You know something Mary, step. Fuck you. Every time I’m in trouble you say the same shit. Is it the money? Is that why you hang on? Take your fucking money, take what I owe you and break out.’’

  When the phone clicked in her ear she felt lost, as if she wanted to be mad but was too hurt. She sat down at her desk and gave Oscar Taylor some serious thought. She was called on her weak threat. She admired that asshole of a client. Oscar was honest, spoke his mind and was genuine when he claimed not to give a fuck. She also knew that replacing the loot she made from defending Oscar would take serious legwork.

  When Oscar Taylor had his mind set to get something it was attained. All the drama was a backdrop to the real deal: He wanted another chance with his family. He could not understand how he could he have been so stupid. He had a good woman that truly cared for him and was good for him.

  That was why every time he looked at Djuana he got a feeling of a kick in the gut. She was to Jack what Sondra was trying so hard to be for him, a cooling influence. Jack was always a mature gentleman and now he exuded the presence of a contented man. And that was just what he was telling Oscar he was looking for, contentment, and Oscar already had that.

  Damn, Oscar could have kicked himself. They were going on thirty and still fucking with women that would not have spoken to either one of them had they not been millionaires. That was what his boy was trying to tell him. Jack was trying to let him know that being settled was the move and Oscar should have still been settled. But, what not many people understood, Oscar wasn’t addicted to pussy, drinking and partying. He could have left the easy women and party people alone. He just wasn’t ready. Now he was, and he was very much afraid that he would be stuck in that lifestyle.

  You can’t party you life away, drink your life away, smoke your life away,

  fuck your life away, dream your life away, scream your life away.

  ‘Cause your seeds will grow up the same way.

  He phoned Sondra and was happy she answered her mother’s phone. Her voice was like ear candy.

  “How are you, baby?’’

  “Oscar?’’

  “Yeah. How you feeling?’’

  “I’m fine, Oscar. What happen between you and your manager.’’

  “A failure to communicate. Forget all that. I miss you.’’

  Silence.

  Sondra was looking at Edwin, who was looking at the photo album.

  “I want to see you,’’ Oscar said.

 

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