Brad's Road Trip Ch. 06bySpotInTheSand©
Note: This is the sixth chapter in what will probably be a fairly long series. If you haven't read Chapters 1-5, this section won't make any sense. I mean, the sex scenes will mostly stand alone, but there's a pretty significant back-story. Anyway, thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated! Special thanks to AnInsatiableReader for helping me clean it up.
Monday, June 15
"You have six new voicemails."
That was my cell phone...
"Son of a bitch."
...and that was me.
"Apparently, I'm a really fucking popular guy today," I said out loud, which was somewhat pointless considering I was the only one in my car at the time.
By the time I even noticed my phone blinking, I was on Interstate 10 halfway back to Pensacola from Mobile, Alabama, where I'd driven to catch a midday minor league baseball game. I hadn't given Scott enough notice for him to request time off, so he had to work till 5 p.m. That left me time to drive down to Hank Aaron Stadium in southern Alabama and take in a game.
I left my phone in the car to charge during the game, though, and at some point during the 45-minute drive back to Pensacola, I saw it blinking. Before I even opened the phone, the LED screen warned me that I had 13 text messages. When I flipped it open, I saw that I'd missed eight calls and had some voice messages.
The first message did not bode well.
"What the fuck did you do?" I heard Scott's yelling voice ask. "Lynette is fucking pissed at me. She says I'm cheating on her. Something about a message from some chick named Stacy. The only Stacy I know is my aunt in fucking Chicago, man. I don't know what this is, but you better fucking fix it!"
"Shit," I said, again to no one in particular. Stacy had apparently returned my call, but whatever she'd said on the message, it made Lynette think she was calling for Scott. Perfectly understandable, considering I had called from his phone and given her his number. She knew my name, but she might not have used it on the voicemail.
The next one was Scott again, about 20 minutes after the first one, and even more pissed. Not long after that, Lynette had called.
"So, some fucking whore left a voicemail on Scott's machine," she said. Her voice sounded wild and panicked - nothing like the controlled but sultry tones she'd used to flirt with both Scott and I the night before. "He said it was for you, but I think he's a lying sack of shit. Anyway, my number's on your phone now. Call me."
Scott was also the fourth one, and he hadn't calmed down at all. Thankfully, the last two were the two main women in my life - my mom, calling just to check on me, and Kelly. The timestamp was from five minutes before I left the stadium.
"Baby... I wonder what your face is like right now, now that I just called you that. Anyway, I know you told me your phone would be in the car while you went to the game, but I wanted to leave you a message anyway. Eating lunch, from Jack In The Box, and thinking about you. How horny you got me last night. We definitely need to do that again, as soon as possible. Call me. Bye."
Even on my voicemail, that woman's voice had my dick ready to go all George Washington on a cherry tree.
The voice messages out of the way, I quickly rifled through the text messages. There were only two that hadn't been covered in the voicemail. One was from Becky, who'd texted to tell me that she and Paul were going to move in together and to thank me for pushing them together. I smiled and made a mental note to call her later. The other was from a guy I had just met, right before I left the ballpark.
I tried Scott's cell phone, but I got his voicemail. He must have been teaching. Then I dialed Lynette's number, the one she'd called from, but it was turned off and sent me straight to voicemail. I couldn't fix things with either of them right now, and I didn't have Stacy's number with me. So instead, I did what I would have preferred to do anyway.
"Are you still on your lunch break?" I asked when Kelly answered.
"Yes," she replied. "I get 15 more minutes away from the high school kids who work for me and the future heart patients they sell food to."
"Damn," I said. "Not nearly long enough for me to get you off."
"Says who?" Kelly replied. "With your voice, I could be done in three."
"I'm sure you could," I answered. "But I don't perform those kind of services. If you want the best, you have to allow enough time for the best. And we don't have that kind of time at the moment."
"Oooh," she said. "So you're the best now, huh?"
"I've always been the best," I answered. "I just wanted to stay at least a little modest until I had you hooked."
"You never had to be modest then," she said. "I was hooked from the first phone call."
"Damn," I said. "All this time, I could have been acting like a cocky S.O.B."
I never finished the statement, but I didn't need to.
"Oh well," she said. "I'm sitting in my car right now anyway, and the last thing I need is for one of the kids to come out here and catch the manager playing with herself."
"Oh, yeah," I said. "Like he'd tell on you."
"Probably not," she agreed. "Still, doesn't mean I want to give him a free show."
"Come on, Kelly," I said. "He's a teenager in the mecca of Mormonville. He's probably never even made it halfway to first base. The least you can do is give him something to deposit in the spank bank for later."
She laughed. Life was good.
"So, your turn," she said, reminding me that it was my day to try not to say anything that would repulse her. Luckily, I had something all lined up and ready to go.
"Can I just tell you a story instead?" I asked.
"No. This is supposed to be something about you," she replied.
"It will be," I said. "It will probably tell you a lot about me."
"Oh," she said. "Well, sure then. If you can pack it into.. what.. 14 minutes, now?"
"I'll do my best."
As I approached the home clubhouse at Hank Aaron Stadium, I noticed the three rather attractive women loitering near the entrance almost immediately. None of them were wearing all that much, clearly trying to beat the oppressive summer heat. They all looked fairly drunk - their faces were flushed, they were sweating slightly, and I heard some slurred speech as I passed the group. They had stamps on their hands, meaning they were old enough to drink. Or at least, it meant they had some good fake IDs.
"Waiting for someone?" I asked. The shorter blonde smiled and lowered her eyes to the ground, the redhead started giggling, and the tall blonde simply nodded at me with a grin.
"We've talked to Kellen before and after games since the season started," she said. "We want to actually meet him now."
I nodded back at her, then looked over at the 10-year-old kid and his father, who'd been walking with me until I reached the clubhouse door.
"I'll be right back," I said. "And Ted?" I addressed the father as I pointed at the girls. "Don't let them go anywhere."
I smiled at all of them and opened the door to the Mobile BayBears' locker room. No one noticed me or even looked up. The trick was to act like you were supposed to be there. It won't fool a good security guard or any decently trained cop, but since there was no security at the door, simply blending in was enough to not attract attention.
I scanned the locker room but didn't see who I was looking for. I did spot a staircase leading down to a basement, though, and I figured it was a private tunnel that allowed the players to get from the field to the clubhouse without having to pass through the fans. So I waited.
A few minutes later, I heard footsteps and I saw the player climbing the steps. He looked up to see me standing at the top and simply gave me a nod. I probably looked like a reporter or some sort of team official, and he saw those all the time.
"Kellen Howard, right?" I asked. He stopped and turned toward me.
"Yeah," he said. "What's up?"
"I'm Brad Carver," I replied, sticking my hand out. He shook it. "Quite a show you put on out there today."
"Thanks," he replied. "Tanner doesn't think it's ever been done before, and you don't get the chance to do something like that every day."
"I would guess not," I said. "I mean, just hitting four homers in one game, that happens maybe once a year in the entire league, right? But to get lucky enough to have the bases loaded every time?"
He grinned. "Yeah. My teammates were getting it done today, too."
According to the program in my hand, Kellen stood about 6-foot-4 and tipped the scales at 235 pounds. He was a farm kid from Hays, Kansas, and he looked every bit the part. His eyes started darting around, looking like he wanted to head to his locker. I raised the ball I'd been holding into view.
"There's no way of knowing if I'm telling the truth or not, but this is the last grand slam you hit, in the bottom of the eighth inning," I said, and his eyes went wild.
"Actually, there is," he said. "I wanted to see about getting the ball, but the guys upstairs in the video room told me a guy wearing a bright orange polo shirt and wearing a black Atlanta Braves cap had caught it. I figured there was no way I'd get it back."
I looked down at my clothes, then took my hat off and looked at it.
"Yeah, I guess that's me," I said.
"Wow," he replied. It got awkward for a moment - clearly, he didn't want to ask me for the ball, but he'd just admitted to wanting it.
"Can you do me a favor?" I asked. His eyes clouded a little bit, as he probably thought I wanted money. I quickly got to the next part. "I actually wasn't trying to catch it. A 10-year-old kid named A.J. was sitting in front of me in the bleachers, and you hit it right to him. It bounced off his glove and landed right in my lap."
"Nice," Kellen replied. Then: "Wait. You didn't give him the ball?"
"Actually, I did," I replied. "But I talked him into giving it to you, instead."
He was stunned. "How?"
"It doesn't matter."
"I'm a pretty big baseball fan, though, and I know a lot about the minor leagues and prospects," I said. "I know you're going to be an All-Star with the Arizona Diamondbacks within five years, or someone else if they're dumb enough to trade you. And I know there are six or seven other guys on this team who are sure-fire big leaguers, too. So, if it's not too much to ask, can you trade this kid a baseball signed by the team?"
I held the ball out to him. He had every opportunity to snatch it from me and then demand I leave. Instead, he dropped his equipment bag as a big smile spread across his face.
"I have a better idea," he said, and immediately went to Melvin Tanner's office. Tanner was the BayBears' manager. Before he went in, I told him I'd be back.
I ducked back outside to tell Ted and A.J. that Kellen had agreed, and that I'd just be one more minute. I winked at the girls and told them to sit tight, too. I'd only been back inside for a couple of minutes when Kellen and Tanner came out of the office. Tanner had three boxes of brand new baseballs in his arms. Kellen told his teammates what he wanted, and I watched in stunned silence as every single player on the team signed a baseball and threw it into an equipment bag with the Arizona Diamondbacks' logo on it. Kellen took off the jersey he was wearing and signed it with a Sharpie, addressing it to A.J. Another player, Pedro Canon, did the same with his jersey. Pedro had been on base for all four grand slams, and he'd also made a highlight-reel catch to stop another fan from catching a home run hit by the other team. He was one of the other sure-fire prospects I'd mentioned. The winning pitcher for the game, Leo Lozano, signed his hat and laid it on the table along with the two jerseys.
Kellen nodded at me, and I went outside to get Ted and A.J. I motioned for the girls to stay put just one more minute.
A.J. was in awe when he saw what the team was giving him. There were 28 baseballs in the bag, as the manager and two coaches had thrown one in as well. Kellen and A.J. posed for a picture, and all the players came up to shake A.J.'s hand. Ted was standing near the wall, almost in tears as he saw his son having the time of his life.
"Why did you decide to give it back to me?" Kellen asked A.J.
"Well, if you don't want it," A.J. replied, and everyone laughed.
"No, I definitely do," Kellen replied. "But, I don't think anyone's ever hit four grand slams in a professional game, major league or minor league. This ball would be worth a lot of money. It's pretty awesome that you're letting me have it back."
A.J. smiled. I had told him about the money.
"I was going to keep it," A.J. responded. "But I told Brad I was in little league here, and he asked me how I would feel if I hit four home runs in a game, if I would want the last ball. I said, yeah, if I could find it. He asked me who I thought that ball would mean the most to. I said probably my mom or dad, or me. He said he thought you'd probably feel the same way."
Ted and I just stood on the back wall as Kellen looked up at us.
"So, I thought about it and decided to give it you. Besides, I'm going to play in the majors someday, so I won't need the money." Kellen, Ted and a couple of nearby players smiled at that, as did I, as A.J. continued. "You're the one who hit four grand slams in the game. You should get to decide what happens to the ball."
"Wow," Kellen said. "I can't thank you enough."
"Yeah, you can," A.J. said, pointing at the baseballs, the two jerseys and two hats. While they were talking, someone else had signed the bill of their BayBears cap and tossed it onto the table. "This stuff, this is awesome. Brad said he would try to get me an autographed ball, but this is great."
Melvin Tanner walked over to shake A.J.'s hand and talk to him for a few moments, and I beckoned Kellen over.
"Thank you so much," Kellen said. "I know a lot of fans think all pro players are jackasses, but this really means a lot to me."
"Hey, like A.J. said, you're the one that put on the show," I said. "We should all be thanking you for letting us witness history."
We shook hands, but I held the shake as he tried to pull away. I pulled him closer, to where he could hear me talking softly.
"There are three girls outside waiting for you by the bleachers," I said, and his eyes went wide again. "I don't know what your life has been like, but I doubt you saw anything like them in Kansas."
"You know them?" Kellen asked.
"No," I shook my head. "They were standing there when I walked up, but it wasn't hard to tell who they wanted to meet. I told 'em I'd try to introduce them."
Kellen waited while I shook hands with Ted, A.J. and Melvin Tanner. Ted thanked me profusely, almost as much as Kellen had thanked A.J. Kellen and I left the clubhouse then. The girls were still waiting, now standing right in front of the door. They all smiled when we came out.
Kellen may have grown up in the middle of nowhere, but he'd learned how to talk to the ladies somewhere along the way. Within two minutes of introducing them, he'd gone back into the clubhouse to get his phone and was back outside exchanging phone numbers. They made plans to meet at the redhead's house later that night.
The taller blonde slid up next to me, cupped my crotch very obviously, and told me I was invited as well. Kellen nodded vigorously at her suggestion, and her two friends smiled and giggled.
"No, thanks," I said. "I've gotta get back to Pensacola. I might have some action set up there myself. Besides, this is about Kellen. He hit four grand slams. Come to think of it, there's only three of you. You need to find a friend and bring her with you tonight, so he can have one for every slam."
Immediately, the three girls began discussing that idea. Kellen pulled me aside.
"Seriously, man," he said. "What's in all of this for you? You give the kid his ball back, talk him into giving it to me, and then these girls.. man, you know I wasn't going to walk out this door. I would have used the door that leads into the parking lot on the other side of the clubhouse, and I never would have seen them. There's gotta be something I can do for you."
I thought about my future plans. A year before I'd left the Marines, I started developing a plan to get into business for myself down the road. Though things were certainly not anywhere near this stage yet, I saw a point in the future where being connected with a millionaire All-Star baseball player could definitely come in handy.
"Like I said, Kellen," I said. "I'm a baseball geek. Let's trade phone numbers and e-mail addresses so I can keep in touch, and that will be more than enough."
He didn't seem convinced, but he nodded anyway. He grabbed his cell and dialed my phone number, letting it ring all the way to voicemail before he hung up. He then sent me a text message with his e-mail address. I'd left my phone in the car to charge the battery, but I told him I'd send him an e-mail soon.
"You sure you don't wanna get in on this tonight?" Kellen asked, waving his hand at the trio of women, who were now on their cell phones.
"I'm sure, man," I replied. "Thanks anyway."
We shook hands, and as I turned the corner, I saw A.J. and his dad leave the clubhouse and start talking to Kellen again.
Not bad for an afternoon's work, I thought.
"You turned down an orgy?" Kelly asked.
"I tell you that whole story, and your first question is about the sex?" I asked in return.
"Yes, because you turned down an orgy," she replied. "That's not the Brad we all know and love."
"How do you know? I was turning down an orgy the day we met," I said.
"True," she said. "But that was so you could talk to me, which makes perfect sense. You passed on this one with no guarantees you'll get laid later."
"Oh, I will," I said. "I might have to stop Scott from trying to castrate me beforehand, but if I can manage that..."
I filled her in on the situation with Scott, Lynette and Stacy's message on the answering machine, and it cracked Kelly up.
"I'm glad I can inject some humor into your otherwise taco-filled life, dear," I said. If I thought that would make her stop laughing so hard, I was sorely mistaken.
"Good job, Brad," she said when she finally had enough air to talk. "You're not even there a whole day and you're already making his girlfriend dump him."
"Yeah, well, what can I say?" I replied. "I work quickly. And speaking of working quickly..."
"Yeah, I know," she said, and I could almost see her rolling her eyes. Except, I had no idea what color those eyes were, or what the face surrounding them looked like. "I should get back in there before the kids torch the place. You'll have something to tell me tonight, right?"
"I hope so," I said. "Go to work."
"I'm going, I'm going."
"This better work," Scott said. We'd been at T.G.I. Friday's for five minutes, and he was already working on his second beer.
"It will, Scott," I replied. "It better, anyway. I plan to get laid tonight, and you beating the shit out of me would put a slight damper on that."
"Damn right it would," he said. "I'm expecting to get some, too. And if I don't get some, nobody gets some. At least not anyone sleeping at my house."
Before I could reply, the front door to the restaurant opened and Stacy swept in. It would have been easy to miss her, as she stood just barely over 5 feet tall, but she caught the attention of every male in the immediate area. I'm sure some of the women were looking as well.
The most obvious attraction was her chest. It had been pretty well contained last night and was again tonight, but when you're that well-endowed, no bra in the world can completely hide the goods. Her face was very attractive as well. She must have been wearing contacts the night before, because tonight she was wearing glasses. She was also wearing a lemon-colored blouse and black slacks, quite the departure from the low-cut red top, almost too-short mini-skirt (if there is such a thing) and four-inch heels she'd been wearing the night before. In the light of the restaurant lobby, her freckles stood out a little bit more, but that did nothing to hurt my interest.