Cathryn Parry - Out of His League

“Your pitching staff,” Max said. “So you’ll be painted with the broad brush. It won’t be smooth going.”

“I know.” Jon turned the wheel with his left hand. “That’s why I’ll be working on my changeup pitch again.”

“It can’t hurt.” That was Brooke speaking. “But we think you should focus most on appealing to Vivian. She’s hosting a charity fund-raising event early next month. I can get you an invitation near her table.”

“Max,” Jon asked, “are you passing me on as your daughter’s client?”

“How’s your finger doing?” Brooke asked, unperturbed by Jon’s question.

“Fine.” The over-the-counter painkillers Elizabeth had given him had finally kicked in. “The surgeon called me and said everything is fine.” He paused. “Max, are you fine? What’s going on? Why is Brooke with you?”

There was only a slight hesitation. “I’m headed into surgery myself,” Max said evenly. “It’s routine—nothing for you to worry about, but Brooke will be in charge for the next few weeks while I recuperate. Pay attention to her—I’ve taught her everything I know. Don’t discount my daughter. Do you hear me, Jon?”

He was really being tested today. “Yeah, sure. As long as you’re the one negotiating my contract.”

“Of course,” Max answered. “But in return, I want you to implement Brooke’s ideas with Vivian.”

Jon grunted into the phone, paying closer attention to traffic in the intersection as he stopped the SUV at a red light. “I already do fund-raising for Vivian’s Sunshine Club project.” Such as, writing lots of checks behind the scenes. “I just don’t trumpet it.”

“Well, now you’ll be trumpeting everything to the high heavens,” Max said. “Vivian may be the team’s majority owner, and as such, normally stays away from operational issues, but she’s taken it upon herself to give input on contract decisions. If she likes you personally, you stand a better chance of things going your way.”

“And you shouldn’t have any worries in that department, Jon,” Brooke interjected, “but just in case, I’ll work on other ideas for your fund-raising participation.”

Jon hated having cameras in his face. But for the sake of getting serious... “Yeah, sure, everything is on the table.”

“Excellent,” Brooke said. “I’ll talk to the program directors at the Captains front office and at Wellness Hospital.”

Lizzy’s hospital. But knowing Lizzy, she didn’t get involved with the public programs.

“Fine,” Jon said. “Sounds good.”

“All right,” Brooke said. “I’ll float some ideas when I have them.”

“Great.” In the meantime, Jon would line up his changeup coach.

Jon hung up the phone.

He drove home and just slept, as long as he needed to, which, thankfully coincided with the crack of dawn. When he got up, he cooked himself a big breakfast: eggs, toast, bacon, orange juice, coffee. He made an early phone call, checked the internet and, in the process, tracked down the one man in Boston—the pitching wizard—he could trust to help him add a changeup pitch to his repertoire.

That was all Jon had in his power to focus on at the moment. Yeah, his day of “not helping” other people, just himself, was starting off fine. Coach Duffy—his high school mentor—still lived nearby. Now, all these years later, he worked at a local college with a top baseball program. Not Jon’s alma mater, but that worked out for the best. His “changeup” project needed to be top-secret in order to get him anywhere.

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