Perfect Bastard (Mason Creek)

ONE

Nate

Coming back home to Mason Creek was temporary, or it was supposed to be. If I couldn’t change my image, my MLB contract worth over a hundred million would be canceled—just like me.

“Nate! Are you listening to me?” my younger brother and agent, Mitch, practically yelled into the phone.

“Yeah, Mitchell. I’m here.”

“You only call me Mitchell when I’m right,” he said. “Who is she? Can we keep her quiet?”

Last night, I’d done something I didn’t normally do. It had been open mic night at Pony Up, the bar in town that was owned by my best friend, Aiden’s wife, Emma.

I’d gone up on stage and sang a song I’d dedicated to them when a stunning woman joined me on stage. A single song turned into a mini concert before the beauty disappeared as quickly as she’d appeared.

I glanced heavenward, searching for patience. “You do remember you’re my brother and supposed to have my back?”

“I remember. That’s why I’m trying to do damage control.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear and glared at it before bringing it back. If I weren’t staying with my best friend, Aiden, I would have put him on speaker. “You should give me the benefit of the doubt. I thought you said you believed me about the others.”

A few women that I’d slept had joined together and formed a I hate Nate Bowmen club to make a name for themselves. They sold their stories to tabloids about how I’d bagged them and made them leave in the morning. That bastard was a common phrase among them. What they didn’t say was they knew the score before they took their clothes off. The public was ready to believe the worst of me. Guilty until proven innocence was my fate.

“It doesn’t matter if I believe you or not. It’s about public opinion.”

The political climate in the city I played in was focused on family values, which my critics said I didn’t embody.

“You’ve become the poster boy for why paying millions to athletes is a bad idea,” he continued.

“And the truth doesn’t matter?”

“Bro, your dick pic is out there.” There was that.

“I never consented to that.” I’d been asleep when the woman in question had taken the picture and tried to blackmail me. I’d refused to pay her, and she posted it. My brother wanted to sue her, but I didn’t want to do that either. It would have given her more of a platform.

“And if you hadn’t brought some random chick to your place to fuck, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Like you don’t do that. Like millions of guys don’t do that.”

“Me and those other guys aren’t paid a hundred million dollars to play baseball. Plus another hundred million-plus in endorsements.”

“Yeah, whatever. The point is, I haven’t touched a woman in months. I’ve been squeaky clean and it’s still not enough.”

“Then why do you sound guilty?” he asked.

Probably because I couldn’t get a woman out of my head. The woman with golden strands like rays of sunlight streaked through her light brown hair.

“I’m not guilty. I sang a song or two at the bar last night and this woman joined me for an impromptu jam session. It’s nothing.” Mitch was quiet. “Are you still there?”

“That’s the thing. When have you ever willingly gone on stage and performed? You’ve never done that, like ever.”

Our mother had had star power and had given up her career as a budding country singer when she’d found out she was pregnant with me. We’d sang at home, and she’d taught my brother and me how to play multiple instruments. The few who’d heard me claimed I had star power, too. But baseball had owned my heart since the very first day I’d caught a ball.

“It was nothing. I sang a song for Aiden and Emma at Pony Up and it went from there. Trust me, I won’t be doing it again.” The gorgeous woman who had joined me had left without ever telling me her name.

“Uh-huh,” he muttered. “That’s where it starts.”

“She’s not interested, and neither am I.” That wasn’t completely true.

“So you say.”

“She left right after without a backward glance.”

Mitch let out a boisterous laugh. “That’s new for you.”

It was. From high school until now, I’d never been turned down by a woman. In fact, most of the time, the women hit on me. “Refreshing, actually.” Turning down women had become a necessary skill. I couldn’t piss anyone off unless I wanted more bad press, whether it was truth or lies.

“I hope so. But if it becomes a problem, I need to know. The sooner the better. I’ve got a call. I’ll catch you later.”

I put my phone down and stopped pacing the room. I couldn’t put off seeing my father any longer. Aiden had offered to go, but I had to do this alone. I hadn’t spoken to Dad in months because he refused to take my calls. Now I got in my car and made the trip to just outside Billings.