The Unnatural *Wattpad Featured Story*

Chapter 17

The next day, Mark is sitting in my living room. He'd phoned me last night after dinner and insisted on a meeting this morning before I go to work. Without preamble, he announces that I needed a new contract. Then he says, "We should strike now, while they know they need something from you."

I'm not really listening. The phrase, "need something from you" makes me daydream about what happened between Ishtar and me after dinner last night:

We wait in silence for the elevator just outside the team's administration offices. Though the lobby is dark and the reception desk is empty, we can see light bleeding into the room from the hallway. Apparently, some of the admin staff are still working.

When the down arrow lights above the jam and the elevator opens, we walk inside. As the door slides shut, Ishtar breaks into a mischievous grin.

I quip, "We've been here before, haven't we?"

She reaches for the elevator's control panel and deliberately pulls the red "STOP" button. Then she looks up at me.

I know an invitation when I see one. There's no way I'm turning her down. I step closer to her, and when she smirks up at me, I finally do what I've longed to do since I was eighteen years old: I kiss her.

Her arms reach up and clasp behind my neck as she presses her body against mine. She's soft and lithe in my arms. And then she untangles herself from my grasp, pulls out her cell phone and picks a number from her directory.

My phone rings.

Ishtar says, "Now you have my number. Call me."

She then pushes the stop button back in and our descent resumes.

One day later, I'm still having a hard time believing it really happened. Ishtar and I had done nothing more than make out in an elevator, but I'm left with far more guilt than anything else. Mark is looking at me like he expects me to say something. Apparently, he'd been talking while I daydreamed about Ishtar. I'm a bit out of sorts because I haven't been following his conversation and I don't know what to say.

Finally, I ask, "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. That's why you pay me. Look, Jordy, you're in a bad position. You're a twenty-six-year-old rookie—which means the Jesters can control you through your age thirty-one season. They can lock you up right through your prime. You'll hit the free-agent market at thirty-two, with only one real chance for a big contract. Even then, you'll be on the wrong side of the aging curve."

He continues, "Until that time, you'll be operating on what is really a series of one-year contracts. If you get injured, they can non-tender you the next off-season and you'll walk away with peanuts for your career."

"How does a new contract help?"

Mark's voice raises with exasperation, "Because it's guaranteed money! That's the only way we sign anything."

"Why would they do it?"

"Because they'll lock in the cost of your arbitration years. I'll negotiate for market value, but salaries are likely to go up in the future. If you keep performing, they'll save money. The good thing is, they called you up right at the beginning of the year. I can argue that you'll hit super-two status, which means you'll get four instead of the normal three arbitration years."

"What do you think we can get?"

"I'm shooting for $7 to $8 million guaranteed. They're going to want to buy out at least one of your free-agent years. But, that's so far down the road, that I'm reluctant to negotiate for it. Hitting free agency at age thirty-two is pushing it. One extra year could mean you're hitting free agency on an obvious downward slide."

"How does doing their marketing campaign help?"

"Their local TV contract is up this year. If they can boost their ratings this season, it will help them for years to come. They'll be able to demand a much bigger price for their broadcast rights. And, right now, you're the biggest thing they have to promote."

"What if I do nothing?"

"If you keep hitting, your price will go up. If the team keeps winning, and attendance continues to grow as well, we'll hit the trifecta. Of course, the longer you put off the guaranteed money, the more you risk catastrophic injury."

My eyes flick to the television where ESPN is playing our bench-clearing brawl with Detroit. At first, I break into a smile. Getting into Detroit's head that badly, getting them to blow their cool, and crushing them the last two days because of something I saw on film has been mostly my doing. I can't help but swell with pride.

Then I watch Gilman tackle me.

We're thrashing on the ground, guys are running from both dugouts, and then we're throwing punches like we're in a bar fight. Only right now, talking about guaranteed contracts and my future with Mark, I realize how insane that whole thing had been.

I look over at a picture of Ashley and me on the beach in Maryland. That had been taken September of last year, right after my AAA stint with Pawtucket. As happy as I looked in the photo. I'd been confronting an uncertain future. Boston had told me they weren't going to add me to their 40-man roster. It had felt like the end.

I think of my Dad's pink slips on the refrigerator and my Mom sleeping off a drinking binge on Christmas morning. I think of what $7 million in guaranteed money could mean for Ashley and me. Then I remember kissing Ishtar in the elevator last night.

What are you doing Jordy?

My life is spinning out of control.

I look over at Mark sitting on my sofa and sink back into my wing chair. Then I ask, "What was it like when your career ended?"

Mark is surprised by the question. He rubs his well-manicured but thinning brown hair with his right hand and then confesses, "I felt lost."

He falls silent. The Victorian clock clicks on the wall as the hands move. Mark's eyes have shifted up and to his left as I wait for him to continue. He looks back at me and seeing that I'm waiting for him to explain himself, he continues, "I haven't thought about it in a long time. I'm too busy mapping out careers."

For the first time since I've known him, his voice lacks the charismatic certainty that I've come to expect from him. He says, "Like most guys, I wasn't a high round draft choice. I didn't have a dime to my name when the Cardinals released me. I decided to finish college when I was twenty-seven years old. I felt ancient."

"I went to law school because I didn't know what else to do. I thought maybe I could get into a front-office with a law degree."

"When I graduated, I was thirty-two years old and $100,000 in debt. But then I got lucky. One of my minor-league teammates had a problem with his agent and he hired me. I got him a 4-year, $16 million deal. He was happy. I was ecstatic. My 3% commission worked out to $480,000. With that money coming in, I didn't have any problem getting a bank loan and opening my own office. That was six years ago."

Mark grabs his wedding ring between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and spins it on his finger. He continues, "Now, baseball is just something I had to do to get where I am today. I've got forty clients and fourteen of you are in the big leagues, so I'm pretty busy."

We look at each other again. I can hear the clock clicking once more and I glance at it. It's 12:24 PM and I need to get over to The Court to treat my leg.

I say, "OK Mark. See what kind of deal you can cut. Then we'll talk."

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Next Chapter: Ed Bane makes a counter-offer.