Law enjoyed the moment more than he should have. Both Chaser and Dunn were slightly under six feet, yet built like bricks. He could have awarded them superhero status, but that would defeat the purpose of Psycho’s home run challenge.
“Rhaden,” he stated, “you’re Toro, the young circus performer with an immunity to fire. He throws fireballs.”
“Humbling,” replied the first baseman. “Maybe the costume comes with props.”
Law sincerely hoped not. “Chaser,” he finished, “you’re going as the cub reporter.”
“Humiliating,” Chaser grunted as he tugged off his baseball jersey and unbuckled his belt.
Showered, unshaved, and dressed, the team was driven back to the hotel on a luxury excursion bus. The players took dinner together at the Orange Parrot. Many of the men had invited their wives.
After a plate of fried chicken with three side dishes, Law kicked back, relaxed. Brody had split for his room, and Law was the only single man at the table. He sipped a draft beer and watched the players flirt with their women. The couples looked as if they were dating rather than actually married. They laughed, teased, and touched. A lot.
Psycho held his wife’s hand from the moment she joined him at the table. Romeo wrapped his arm about his lady’s shoulders the entire evening. Risk snugged Jacy so close, they appeared to share one chair. Law sensed their love, and felt odd man out. An absolute first for him.
A sexy redhead seated at the bar sent him a beer. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, signaling her availability. Law nodded his appreciation, but didn’t encourage her company.
Instead, he let his thoughts drift to Catherine May. He wondered if she’d received his gift. Satin Angels should’ve delivered the teal nightgown by now. He hoped when Cat slipped it on, the material stroked her. She had an amazing body. And was a great kisser.
He had every plan to kiss her again.
He definitely wanted Cat at Haunt—as much, if not more, than Wonder Woman. The realization made him sweat.
Catherine was a woman of reality, practicality, and commitment. Whereas Wonder Woman was sweet recreation. Law had been a man of amusements for a very long time.
The comic book heroine’s departure from the club had disappointed and distracted him. He’d thought of little else. She’d humped and fled, a hot fantasy minus her Lasso of Truth.
But her memory wouldn’t satisfy him in bed. Law wanted a moment of closure. He needed to return her golden lasso, then look at romance from a whole new perspective.
He’d had a full life. He was wealthy, well traveled, and a star athlete. Yet he’d never been part of a couple. Looking at his teammates and their wives, Law had the strangest feeling he was missing out. The emptiness surprised him, more than he was willing to admit.
The missing started with Catherine May.
It was early to bed for most of the Rogues. By ten o’clock, it was baby-making time. Those in the infant pool dispersed. Law went to bed alone.
The next three games against Miami left blood, guts, and attitude on the field. The Rogues battled for every hit and took the Marlins down one out at a time.
Tempers flared when the starting pitcher hit two batters in a row. Risk got nailed in the shoulder, and Psycho, the thigh. The Rogues were ready to storm the mound. Their coaches called them down. A few players grinned over Psycho’s exaggerated limp to first base. The man could act.
Bottom of the eighth, and there’d been a volatile exchange of words when Romeo and a Marlin runner collided at third. The Miami player elbowed Romeo in the neck—a cheap shot. They’d have come to blows had Kason Rhodes and Law not intervened.
After ten days on the road, the Rogues sat atop the leader board in the National League East. It was time to head home.
In Richmond, the Rogues walked through the airport to massive applause. Fans had turned out for their arrival. The team’s winning streak packed the terminal with banners, music, camera flashes, and a very supportive crowd.
Law appreciated each man, woman, and child. He stopped often and signed autographs. It was ninety minutes before he claimed his luggage, later yet when a parking lot attendant parked his Bugatti at the valet exit. He spent the time reading text messages.
One text from Walter Hastings nearly sent him to his knees. Auction House notification: Superman lands. $$$$$$$.
The seven dollar signs meant the comic book had sold for a million. The cost didn’t matter to Law. Walter had brought Superman home. His assistant deserved a bonus. Law might even offer Walter residence at the Richmond Grace.
The man always had his back.
Law’s chest expanded with instant warmth. He wanted to pump his arm and shout until his throat went raw. Instead, he held his excitement in. He let the wonder of owning the most valued comic on the planet wash over him. He felt eight years old again. And surprisingly happy.
Law waited and waited for the pain of losing his parents to wash over him. Comics tapped memories of his mother and father. The emotional paralysis that so often followed stayed with him for hours afterward. He couldn’t shake the sorrow of losing the two people he’d loved most.
Something was different today. On the sidewalk outside the terminal, Law realized his life was slowly shifting, and for the better. He now had two new comic books to frame: Superman and Captain America.
The thought of Cap took him to Catherine May. He suddenly wanted to share the news of his acquisition with her. She’d be excited, too.
He drove to Driscoll Financial in record time.
There, Zen informed him that Catherine had left early. “Another family celebration, and she never misses those. Her niece won the fifty-yard dash at a track meet. The Mays are barbecuing and dancing in the street.”
Law liked music. He might have to drive out to Larkspar Lane. He could avoid the family, maybe park a block away, catch the action. He’d find a way to cut Cat from the crowd and talk to her. He was good with logistics.
“Rogues won big,” Zen said to his former teammate. “You played sharp, covered twice for Brody Jones. I was sorry to see the kid get pulled from the game.”
“Brody can’t yet separate professional from personal. He has woman problems. He’ll get back on track.”
“He’s a damn fine shortstop.”
Law raised a brow. “As good as you, Zen?”
Zen scratched his jaw, then answered honestly. “Given time, even better.”
“He believes his own press.”