Bet On It Page 2

  I’ve already signed my life away, on a job that literally five minutes ago, I was freaking pumped about.

  Now, I’m not so sure. I mean, what in the hell was all of that? It couldn’t have possibly been any more awkward. And what in the world happened to her to make her so freaking sad?

  A knock on my door breaks me out of my thoughts, and I swing my eyes over, taking in a gorgeous red headed woman standing in the doorway.

  “If you’re looking for…” Shit. I didn’t even get her name. “Ah, the woman whose office this used to be? She just left.”

  Her eyes roll high and she wrinkles up her nose.

  “God, no. I avoided Rita at all costs. She was a walking train wreck.” I sigh slightly in relief, before motioning for her to come in.

  “I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” She thrusts a manicured hand my way, giving mine a firm shake. “I’m Gina. Gina Wolters. I’m the human relations manager. My office is right across the hall from yours.”

  “I’m Laci Monroe. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Her eyes scan me up and down, before a frown fills her face. She seems to think long and hard, continuing to stare at me, before one of the sides of her mouth quirks up.

  “Are you a lesbian?”

  “What?” My eyes widen and I take a step back. “Um, no?”

  “Hmm.” She frowns again, before shrugging. “Well, then I hope you are built of steel Laci Monroe, because if you aren’t? Those guys are going to feast on you.”

  For the love of god, what are these guys? Cannibals?

  “You know, that other woman, Rita, mentioned the exact same thing. Since frankly, I have no idea what you are even talking about, can you fill me in on what I seem to be missing? Because I just accepted a position to be a manager of media, which I believed, meant that I would be following the guys around and snapping pictures of them and posting those to social media. At least, that’s what was explained to me. So, what in the fuck is going on here?”

  I bite my lip before sighing. “Sorry, I meant what the heck.”

  Gina laughs, before grabbing the door and shutting it. “You and I are going to get along just fine, I can already see that.”

  At my face, she grins again. “I love anyone who can use a well-placed F word.”

  “If I can even last long enough for us to be friends.” I grumble, and she frowns before motioning to one of the sitting chairs at the side of the room.

  “Why don’t you sit down for this?”

  Awesome. The information I am about to be hit with is so bad, that I need to sit down. Great. Just freaking great.

  But, I do sit, in one of the two chairs that sit on either side of a silver end table.

  My hand trails along the fabric…yes, I said fabric. Black and white trendy print fabric with throw pillows.

  Argh. Of course, this job and this kick ass office are too good to be true.

  “First of all, you need to read your contract, top to bottom. Because, yes, while you are the manager of media, the acronym MOM is actually what you will be doing.”

  “Come again?”

  She holds up a hand. “Let me finish before you freak out. Yes, your job is to follow the guys around and make sure that the only thing making it to the media is the good stuff. Which sometimes? Is pretty damn few and far between. These guys are trouble, with a capital T. Do you follow baseball at all?”

  More than she could ever know, but I leave this part out. I’ve already worked so hard to get this job based on my own merit, and not because of my last name, that it doesn’t make any sense right now to bring up just how much I actually do know about the sport and the guys who play it.

  So instead, I just nod, making her shrug.

  “Ok, so then you may already know that to some extent. But maybe only ten percent of the bad stuff gets portrayed in the media. That’s because of your job.”

  I nod again, which, ok. This all makes sense. I mean, like I had said. I grew up around professional ball players. And I know all too well about the stuff that goes on behind the scenes.

  “These guys are party animals, womanizers, and just plain out of control at times. Last year, the club spent a ton of money trying to get some of the terrible things out of the media. Mr. McAbey got sick of having to dole out so much cash, so he created your position.”

  I nod, as she continues.

  “Your job is to be with the team at all times. All of the away games, all charity work that they do, you have to be there.”

  “Right. I did get that part.”

  “Ok. I will glaze over the easy stuff then. Basically, you have to keep them out of trouble. And they are going to resist you. They’re all just little boys in men’s bodies.”

  Her eyes roll again.

  “It will become a game to them. You are now, whether you want to admit it or not, their new Mommy.” She makes quotation marks with her fingers, and my stomach drops.

  “As their Mommy, you keep them from partying. Keep them from having a fucking ménage in their hotel rooms on away games. Keep them from picking up hookers at home, getting blow jobs in the stands, that kind of thing.”

  “How in the hell…”

  “Like I said, they are going to resist you. And if you go in front of them and show an ounce of weakness, I can promise you that they will smell it. They are all like damn bloodhounds when it comes to that. You have to go in there like a bad ass and let them know whose boss.”

  “I’m not very badass!” I exclaim, because, well, I’m not. In fact, I’ve been known to be a pushover.

  Exactly how in the hell am I going to do this?

  “Then fake it.” She shrugs. “Or march down that hallway and tell Mr. McAbey that you quit, which, if you already signed your paperwork means that you will be fined.”

  “Oh my god.”

  My entire face falls. I just know that it does. Because in this moment, my entire good mood has crashed down around me, and all my excitement over this job is long gone. And it’s devastating.

  “Listen.” Gina’s voice softens. “There is a reason that he hired you. He must have saw some strength in you, because I’m sure he’s sick of constantly having to fire and rehire mommies.”

  I swallow hard, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

  “How many are we talking about? I mean, how many before me have failed?”

  Her eyes roll up to the ceiling as she begins to count off on her fingers. “Ah…” she thinks for another moment before nodding. “Seven, I believe. I’m about ninety percent sure that you are number seven. I might have missed one but…”

  “Seven! Seriously? I thought you said he just started this last season!”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Oh my god.” I’m screwed. I am so absolutely, freaking screwed. “Did everyone end up fired like Rita? What in the hell are these women doing wrong if they keep getting fired?”

  She holds up a finger. “Yes. We’re getting to that.”

  “I can hardly wait to hear it.”

  “Do not, and I repeat do not.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Sleep with them. No matter what they say to you, no matter what lines they give to you, I promise you. It is all a game with them to get you fired. They do it with every single mom hired. Every single one.” She emphasizes, before shaking her head.

  “And as much as I warn each new person hired, every damn one of you does it.”

  “I won’t…”

  “Make sure of it.”

  I just nod, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat.

  “So, Rita?”

  Gina rolls her eyes high before shaking her head again. “Slept with Eric Wayne. The catcher. The very next day, she got busted starting to give Brock Edwards a blow job, right here, in this office.”

  I jump to my feet, away from the chair that just a minute ago I was raving over.

  “Ok, well that’s gross. So, I guess I also need to add deep cleaning this office to my list of things I need to handle.”

&n
bsp; “Yeah, probably a good idea. Dammit.” She pushes off the desk and shivers, before our eyes meet and we both grimace.

  “Ok, well, just keep all of that in mind, and you should be fine.” She heads for the door, shaking out her hands that had just been all over that desk. And now, knowing what I do? I can only imagine the grossness that has occurred on that desk…ew.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to go and dunk myself in bleach.”

  I at least grin. “Well, thank you for the advice, and Gina?”

  She spins meeting my eyes.

  “It was really nice to meet you.”

  “You too, Laci. Do me a favor and stick around ok? I’m sick of meeting new people all of the time.”

  I can’t help but giggle. Which might the erratic, out of my mind type of giggle, because I feel like I am losing it here, but, whatever.

  “Guess it would been better if I was a lesbian, huh?”

  She winks at me as she leaves. “Yeah, for me it would have been. You’re exactly my type.”

  And with that, I laugh even harder.

  What a freaking day.

  “So here is your staff pass.” Mr. McAbey hands me the badge sporting a picture of my smiling face with a lanyard. Keep in mind, this picture was snapped before I knew the full extent of my job, so I am literally glowing in the picture.

  “This needs to be around your neck at all times when you are in our stadium or an away stadium. This will open all the doors that you need around here. At away games, you will be given a pass upon arrival for their stadiums, that you will need to also keep on you.”

  “Ok.” I’m still pretty much in shock over the job description that Gina gave me, and after digging a little deeper into my contract, I’ve learned more of what is expected of me.

  And frankly, it sucks.

  But if I am being honest here, I probably would have taken the job anyway. I mean, for one, it got me out of porn city, which is a huge step after all. Plus, the pay is huge, but of course, now I understand why.

  “So, you’ve seen your office, we have your badge. Last thing left to do today is to introduce you to the guys.”

  Great. This is the part that I am looking the least forward to.

  “Ok.” I force my sigh in.

  I follow him out of the office and down the long hallway, stopping at a set of elevators. He points in the direction of the stairs for future reference, and I simply nod.

  He makes small talk with me in the elevator, but my mind is running a million miles a minute, so I’m barely processing anything that he says. I’m grateful when the doors chime open, because he stops talking, before motioning for me to follow him. We step out into the basement of the stadium, in a nearly all concrete little bunker, before he leads me down a long, dimly lit hallway.

  “So, this is the way to the locker room.” He points to a set of double doors, with of course, badge only access.

  “Swipe your card to see if it works.” He nods at me.

  I swipe my smiling face across the key pad, and hear the click of the lock.

  The door swings open a crack and he nods, pushing it the rest of the way open for me as we step through.

  It looks like we have stepped into another world once we are through the doors.

  The light is bright, the floor is carpeted, and it’s nicely decorated. You would never guess that right on the other side of the doors was a dimly lit dungeon.

  He stops in front of the doors, and points.

  “This is the locker room. That door over there?” he points to the one across the hallway. “That is their sauna. The door at the end of the hallway is where the hot tubs are located, and on the other side of the hallway is the gym.”

  “Wow.” It’s beautiful. It really is, although I should expect no less. These guys are professional athletes. Of course, their area is top of the line.

  He pauses at the locker room door, peeking his head inside.

  “Everybody decent in here?”

  There’s a pause, where I imagine all of them throwing clothes on, before a collective “Yup,” is called out.

  I follow him inside, on suddenly unsteady legs, but I force my best game face on.

  I may not be qualified for this job, but dammit, I can be tough when I need to, and there is nothing these guys can throw at me that I can’t handle.

  Right?

  Ok, maybe not, but I am certainly going to try my hardest. And a little positive pep talk won’t hurt either.

  “Gentleman.” Mr. McAbey announces, as he steps into the center of the locker room.

  I take a couple of steps inside until I am standing next to him, and survey the scene in front of me.

  I inhale sharply, as I let my eyes travel around the room.

  There are hot men everywhere, and not even one of them are dressed. At least six have white towels wrapped around their waists from just having stepped out of the shower. Another ten or so are sitting or standing in the room in nothing more than compression shorts. A few have pants on, but not even one of them has a shirt on.

  And let me tell you, that each and every one of these guys?

  So freaking hot it should be a crime. No wonder this team has such a tough time keeping staff.

  These guys are dangerous.

  “I want to introduce you to Elacia Monroe. She has been hired to be your new manager of media. As you know from previous experiences, she will be working directly with you gentleman. I expect you all to be on your best behavior and to help to give her a nice South Carolina welcome.”

  Several of them murmur my name, while I feel roughly thirty plus sets of eyes roaming over my body.

  He steps to the side and motions to me.

  I nod in his direction. “Thank you, Mr. McAbey.” I turn my attention to the pure naked muscle sitting in front of me, careful not to look any of them directly in the eye. No way can I allow myself to get flustered on day one. I need to maintain the image of a ballbuster, and drooling over my clients would not be the way to go.

  Do not show weakness. Gina’s words continue to circle in my head, as I force my face to remain expressionless.

  But, dear lord. These men are hot, like ridiculously good looking, with their ripped bodies on full display. In an instant, I see why so many women before me have failed. It’s almost impossible to look around this room and not think dirty thoughts.

  “I look forward to working with all of you. And please, just call me Laci.”

  “Laci.” I hear murmured again, as one of them steps forward. My heart begins to pound as I recognize him, but I force the surprise not to show on my face.

  Jake Matthews, one of the men wearing only a towel, steps forward and holds out his hand. His tan skin is still wet from his shower, he dark hair slicked back, with beads of water running from his hair down to rest of his body.

  His incredibly strong, ripped body, no less. Every muscle in his chest is firmly outlined, one bicep straining as he holds his towel on his perfectly sculpted abdomen, with a dark brown happy trail on full display, leading down to a nice V shape ending where the towel meets his skin.

  Of course, I recognize him. I mean, the majority of the men in this room are pretty famous. They are major league baseball players after all, and they all hold celebrity status.

  Jake just might be the most famous of all of them, since he is quoted to be the best player on this entire team.

  Despite my internal fight, his hotness makes my breath catch. I don’t even know if hot is the right word because it doesn’t seem up to the standard of him.

  He is gorgeous, breathtakingly beautiful, in a way that should be a crime. His skin is tanned, his eyes are a brilliant blue and his hair is black and silky. And I already mentioned his body…

  Lord help me.

  I take his hand and shake it firmly once, pulling it away before he tries to bring it to his mouth to kiss. Just as he raises up my arm, his towel drops to the ground, and shit. I let my eyes travel down.

  O
k, so in my defense, how could I not look? It’s like a car accident that you drive by. You know that you shouldn’t look, really you shouldn’t. But the temptation is just too damn strong.

  My eyes bulge out of my head as I stare at all that is Jake, on full display, literally just a few inches from me. He seems to be completely comfortable with the fact that he is fully naked, and makes no move toward his towel.

  Every part of this man is ripped, and believe me when I say, that every part of him is thick, long, and perfectly made.

  It just hangs there, between his legs, completely limp, and still traveling down way past his mid-thigh. I swallow hard, unable to pull my eyes away.

  Fuck.

  I take a flustered step back, as I’m sure my face turns beet red. I manage to pull my eyes away from his package after gawking way too long, making him chuckle and release my hand.

  “Nice to meet you all.” I announce curtly, before spinning on one heel and heading for the exit before I have the chance to embarrass myself any further.

  Laughter erupts behind me as I bolt for the safety that lies on the other side of the locker room door.

  I am so screwed.

  “C’mon man. Push yourself, ya pussy.”

  I grunt, and even though my arms feel like Jell-O, I push the bar up and down five more times, before letting it rest back on the stand.

  Eddie Cruz just grins at me before moving from behind the spotting position and replacing my spot on the bench.

  “Calling me a pussy is a damn death wish, you know that right?” I growl, more playfully than menacing, making him roll his eyes.

  “Whatever. My wife is scarier than you, man.”

  He isn’t kidding. His wife is scary when she’s pissed, and lately, that seems to be all the time.

  “Isn’t that the truth. What did you do to her this time?”

  He shrugs, before laying on his back and placing his hands on the bar.

  “Hell if I know. She’s just crazy when she’s pregnant. Crazier, I mean.”

  He begins his reps, with me spotting, grunting and sweating much like I just was. Since its storming like crazy out today, we can’t get our normal practice going, so we’ve all had to move indoors, some of us lifting, others down stairs working on the indoor field and batting cages.