The Last Strike

Ashton’s POV:

As I walk down the familiar hallway leading to the coach’s office, I can’t help but notice how eerily quiet it is today. On any given day during the season, there would be any number of people on this floor. ‘Did Coach tell them to leave before calling me to his office? Sh*t. ‘This is going to be worse than I even expected.’

I let out a long sigh and walked towards my impending doom. The only sound I hear is the air conditioning. ‘Dead Man Walking,’ I think to myself. I pause before the closed door and run a hand through my disheveled hair. ‘Time to face the music.’

The sound of the door opening alerts Coach to my presence, and he immediately looks up to lock those dark, heavy eyes with mine. “Take a seat, Ash,” he commands. I immediately sit in the chair closest to his desk, and the front page of today’s newspaper lands in front of me.

The headline reads: 'MVP Ashton Tate Arrested For Public Intoxication and Indecent Exposure.'

“Care to explain what the hell happened?” The sound of Coach’s voice resonated around the room like thunderclapping.

I feel like sh*t after spending hours in jail in the early morning hours, and I can’t even force myself to look him in the eyes right now. There’s no explanation I could give that would justify my actions. Other than being sh*t-faced drunk.

I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding and sighed. When I finally find the courage to look at Coach’s face, I see a mix of frustration and concern. Jacob has been my coach for four seasons, and he has seen me do a lot of stupid sh*t through the years.

To say I don’t have the best reputation throughout the league would be quite an understatement. When I’m not busy being an All-Star second baseman for the Chicago Grizzlies, I like to live it up by spending my money on women, fast cars, and booze. I often find myself making headlines, but I fear that this may be the one that finally costs me.

“Jacob, you know me. I just got a little carried away after the game last night. It was a tough loss, and I needed to blow off some steam.”

He grunts in disapproval as he runs his hands over his rugged face. “Spare me the bullsh*t, Ashton. This is serious. Management is pissed and ready to cut you loose.”

With those words, I snap to attention. My watch suddenly alerts me that my heart rate has jumped. “Jacob, you can’t let them cut me. We have a chance of winning it all this season. The team needs me!” I tried to steady my racing heart as I pleaded with him. I jump up from the chair and pace the room. ‘This cannot be happening to me.’ My thoughts began to race.

Jacob clears his throat to get my attention. I jerk my head in his direction and notice just how exhausted he looks. I don’t often feel remorse for my actions, but a wave of guilt washes over me at the sight of my coach, who has also been a friend to me over the past four seasons.

He looks me up and down and motions for me to sit again. I slide into the chair and await my doom.

“After speaking with them, they have agreed to keep you, but they have one condition,” he informs me.

I’m not sure that I want to ask, but I have to know. “What do I have to do?”

“They are bringing in a PR Specialist to handle rehabilitating your image. If you get into any more trouble this season, you’ll be let go. This is your last chance, Ashton. You had better take it seriously,” he explains with a stern expression.

I drop my head down into my hands and rub over the stubble on my chin. Staring at the floor, I ask, “When does this start?”

Jacob glances at his phone and says, “She’s coming up the elevator right now.”

I shot to my feet and practically screamed, “She?!? They’re sending a woman?”

I suddenly hear the sound of heels clicking on the floor, and turn to see a pair of eyes I never thought I’d be seeing again.

“Yes, Tate, they sent a woman. I’ve been hired to save your sorry ass,” she calmly states with a look of disgust in her ocean-blue eyes.

My watch beeps to alert me, once again, that my heart rate is spiking. ‘F*ck.’ This cannot be happening right now. It has to be a nightmare. I cannot be standing in front of my ex-girlfriend, Elizabeth Mason, whom I haven’t laid eyes on since the day I broke up with her five years ago. And she’s here to save my career?? Well, I’m royally screwed because there’s no way in hell she would ever help me.

She quickly walks past me as if I’m invisible and reaches out her hand to Jacob. He stands up from behind his desk and squeezes her hand. “Elizabeth, thank you for coming on such short notice,” he greets her with a small smile.

Elizabeth gives him a soft chuckle. “No worries, Jacob. It’s what I do. Do they have an office set-up for me? We need to get started right away.”

I stand in the corner of the office watching them converse as if I’m not even present. It’s been five years since I last saw her. I look her up and down, taking in subtle changes in her appearance. Her fiery red hair is pulled up in a bun, rather than her signature messy ponytail. She’s wearing fashionable heels instead of her worn-out Converse sneakers. Her blue blouse and black pants are neatly pressed. I can’t help but notice that she’s still quite curvy with generous cleavage.

The sound of a throat clearing snaps me out of my thoughts. She shoots me a look and says, “If you’re done staring, we have work to do,” and with that, she walks out the door, leaving me dumbfounded.

Yep, I’m screwed.