The Game Changer (The Perfect Game 2)

If people wanted to take pictures of me without my knowledge, they absolutely could… and they would. If they wanted to approach me, there was nothing to stop them. I lacked any sort of self-protection, and it worried me. If the other wives weren’t such raging bitches, I would have asked them how they got through it. It amazed me that none of them offered to help, or asked if I was OK. I looked around for Trina, but she was nowhere to be found. And since Jack pitched last night, he wouldn’t be pitching at all tonight.

I toyed with the idea of calling Matteo and going back home, but the potential fallout cemented my ass right to my seat. I imagined pictures of me leaving the game early followed by distasteful and untrue headlines.

Nope. I wasn’t moving. My pride refused to let me.

My phone vibrated again and I considered not grabbing it. One reminder pulse later, I reached into my purse, pulling it out. Another text from Melissa. Did I want to see this? Resigned to whatever fate was throwing at me tonight, I clicked the Read button.

Remember: LEMONS! In. Their. Faces.

A smile crept over my face as I stifled a laugh, hearing her voice in my head. Meli was right. I inhaled a sharp breath, suddenly filled with the determination to rise above this madness. I would not let them beat me. Not the mean-spirited fans. Not the horrible wives. Not the newspapers or online sites.

I watched this game for one reason and one reason only.

Jack. Fucking. Carter.

No one in this stadium had any idea the kind of hell Jack and I had endured in the past, and I’d be damned if anyone was going to ruin this for me after all we’d been through. I crossed my legs and leaned my back against the cold, hard seat, silently wishing Trina would show up soon.

Yes, I wanted to prove everyone wrong. I wanted to show them that they wouldn’t tear me down and wreck this experience. But it sure would be nice to have a friend by my side while I stayed strong in the face of such intentional ugliness.

You’ll be fine, Cass. You can do this.

And I did.

For nine long innings, without Trina by my side, I endured. I left my seat before the game officially ended in order to separate myself from the rowdy crowd as it exited. As I walked up the staircase, the sound of someone snorting and coughing briefly caught my attention. I continued up the stairs, but the sound of wetness hitting the pavement forced my attention downward. My gaze stopped on the blob of spit mere centimeters from my front foot.

“Stupid bitch,” a clearly drunken voice slurred.

Without thinking, my middle finger shot up from my right hand and flashed the crowd as I exited the aisle and into the tunnels.

Shit. I probably shouldn’t have done that.

The next morning infamous photos of Cassie flipping the bird photos were all over the Internet. Captions read: “Jack’s Sweetheart is Anything But!” and “Sassy Cassie Has Quite the Temper!” They were childish and annoying, but they affected me nonetheless. Embarrassment crept over me as I found myself thankful that Jack avoided the Internet. I quickly typed out a text to Melissa.

Make sure Dean doesn’t show that shit to Jack. I don’t need him worrying about me or yelling at me or being upset with me over this. Please make sure you talk to him.

If anyone could curb Dean’s actions, it was Melissa. I worried about him sending Jack the same type of text messages with pictures that she had been sending me. I knew better than to let the jerks know they affected me, and now I’d have to pay for my stupid actions with the online postings, comments, and whatever else came along. The last thing I wanted was for Jack to be worried about me, or think I couldn’t handle myself in the face of some stupid drunk hecklers, so I was determined to keep my behavior a secret from him.

My phone chirped.

You got it. Dean won’t tell Jack anything about his crazy middle-finger-flipping girlfriend. LOL But hey, you gotta keep it together or these fans will eat you alive. You’re better than that.

I sighed inwardly and typed.

You’re right. I know. I lost my cool. It won’t happen again.

I worked the rest of the day uninterrupted and only started to get nervous about the game when Matteo dropped me off at the stadium. If he knew about the pictures, he wasn’t saying anything.

“Have a good night, Cassie. I’ll see you later. ” His smile reached all the way to his eyes, and I shoved my nervous energy aside before smiling back.

“See you later Matteo. Thanks for the ride. ” I slammed the door shut, hoping no one would notice me. If the comments started already, I’d probably turn around and chase Matteo’s car all the way back to Manhattan.

Attending Jack’s games solo all the time might start to get old. I really needed to make some friends who liked watching baseball. I guess I wouldn’t want new friends so badly if the wives had been kinder. And as much as I liked Trina, it was obvious that her modeling jobs kept her from coming to most games; that sucked for me because without her there, I felt completely alone.

A few nasty comments burrowed into my eardrums as I walked out of the tunnel and into the night air. One deep, steadying breath later and my nerves started

to settle. I repeated a chant in my head as I walked toward my assigned seat: Don’t give them anything to talk about. Don’t give them anything to talk about.

I avoided looking directly into anyone’s gaze for fear that they might see through my façade. I played tough on the outside, but it wouldn’t take much to break me down at this point.