[Jazzmosis]

Chapter 21: The Real Deal with a Side of Irony


As Eastwood kept me informed on the progress of James, January casually strolled by. The somewhat improved fanbase around the Diamondbacks was growing restless waiting for some moves to be made. Truth be told, so was I. Although Hensley and Vasser provided a boost to a otherwise disappointing rotation, it was clear that more pitching was needed. Rumours had swirled all over the place about the potential signing of free agent Paul Williams, but Eastwood eventually pulled out of the race when the price tag got far too high. And with the loss of Free Agent Yorikazu Yo****ora to Baltimore, there was nothing left that Arizona could pick up pitching-wise.

This left many fans distraught. However, help started coming from unique places. The first was a young gun. Starting pitcher Kelly Banta, a 20 year old right hander from Newmont, was claimed off waivers from Washington. He was immediately given a spring training invite, but would end up in AAA to start the year.

A few days after, David Tillson signed a 1 year contract. His ERA was a less-than-impressive 5.11, but the 29 year old reliever would provide injury insurance from AAA.

On the same day, Dominican-born Oswaldo Jimenez was claimed off waivers from Milwaukee. The 25 year old had no major league experience, but had good potential. He was also a left-handed specialist, but ultimately the 6'2 soft-spoken reliever started the season in AAA.

Bill Mathews also was picked up later in the month for the AAA rotation.

However, while all these deals were going on, Eastwood and Concordian had asked me to get to the bottom of the Vasser situation. The media had hounded him for a week after his release, but his story changed so much that they gave up. Surprising that the media would give up. The whole scandal was up in the air, and it seemed like everyone was just waiting around someone to get the real story.

Since Carla had gone back to college, I had all my free time to spend with Vasser. Hensley tagged along sometimes, but he was busy with his new girlfriend and getting ready for the upcoming season. For two solid weeks I checked up on JV’s progress, each time trying to pick up parts of the story. Most of the time he brushed me off, but a couple of times I picked up on little details.

The most obvious was this girl. Although Vasser tried to hide it from the media, the fight was clearly about the girl. Nobody knew who the girl was, and James wouldn’t say who. Apparently, he was ‘protecting’ her, or so he claimed. The second detail was why. Although his most consistent story was that the shooting was random and the guy approached him, I figured out that it was actually the other way around. Not surprisingly, it was Vasser who had approached the shooter and started the fight.

With these two facts in my mind, I began to piece together the real story. And with each new piece of information, I became more disgusted. I constantly reported back to Eastwood, who really became more interested in what happened than concerned of whether or not he should punish Vasser (again). And to tell you the truth, it was a huge curiosity for myself and the team. James “Bad Boy” Vasser had become a mini-team mystery.

Finally, on the last day of January, I got a huge chunk of the puzzle. I was talking with JV as he was throwing some pitches for the end of his rehab assignment. I was standing behind the mound, watching his mechanics with the trainer to see if he had any kinks.

“So, James. How’s the arm feeling?” I asked casually.

“Like a gem, Skip,” he responded. It was the first time he’d said gem in awhile, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Any pain in the chest?”

“Nah.”

I watched him throw another pitch. “I hate to bring this up again, but everyone’s dying to know. Did you really ‘just get shot’ over the girl?”

Vasser slumped his shoulders and sighed, but didn’t stop throwing pitches. “You’ve been on me forever about this, Skip.”

“I just want the real story.”

“No you don’t.” He smirked. “Well. . . maybe you do.”

“Yes, I do. I don’t care how bad it is. I just want to know what really happened.”

He stopped throwing, turned and looked me in the eye. “Alright. But I warned you.” He walked off the mound, and I followed him. “I was really at The 7 with some chick. She said she’d seen me play. So I figured I could **** her if I took her out. She was old enough, at least. I took her out for awhile. Lemme tell you Skip, she’d the biggest rack I’d ever seen. And the body was so goddamn hot.”

I stared at him. “Yeah.”

He got back on topic after spending a few seconds off in space, probably thinking about the girl. “So anyway she was a good lay, so I kept seeing her. She went off to college though, which sucked. But she was home for the break. Gave me a call, so I came down from Milwaukee. We met up at The 7, and that’s when the **** started happening. This guy said she’d been with him before and then ****ed off somewhere in the club. I forgot about it, but she brought it up again. I asked her if she’d really been with this guy, and yeah, she had. I didn’t care too much, but then I found out that she was playin’ me, man. I wasn’t gonna have any of that **** so I went to the guy and told him to ****in’ **** off and leave the chick to me. I figured he’d made the ****in’ advance.”

I could tell as he remembered what had happened, that what he was saying was true - after all, he was clearly becoming more angry as he spoke.

“The stupid **** tells me she made the move on him - I wasn’t buying that bull**** so I gave him one last chance to **** off. The guy said some ****, so I nailed the bitch in the face. The **** fell, but then the mother****er pulls out a pistol and unloads on me. I dunno how nobody saw what happened, but the next thing I know, I’m on the floor, and the guy is gone. I hurt like **** but I got up and looked for my girl. I found her near the exit by the bouncers.”

“Wait,” I cut in awkwardly. “You got shot in a crowded club and nobody heard the shot or saw the guy who did it?”

“Don’t ask me. The music was pretty loud, but I dunno how the **** got away with it. Anyways, I was talking with my girl - I couldn’t do **** to her cause she was by the bouncers, but she told me she did this regularly. She had like five or six guys. Then all of the sudden -”

“What was the girl’s name?” I interrupted.

Vasser smiled. “Carla, man. She said she knew you too.”

I looked into JV’s eyes, feeling a burning sensation in my stomach. “Carla who?”

“**** man, you know it’s your ****in’ girlfriend. Her last name doesn’t matter!” He responded harshly.

I stood in silence for awhile. Vasser sensed his opportunity to leave and walked off. I must have been there for awhile, because when I finally came back to reality only the trainer was still around.


I wanted to make sure, so I went home and called Carla. At first she denied it. Then when I told her what JV had said, she admitted to cheating.

“Why!? Why goddammit why!!?!” I screamed into the phone. Hensley peered out from his room, distracted by the noise.

“You’re a stiff, Mark. You were fun for awhile, but then you got boring.” She responded bluntly.

“Then why didn’t you just break up with me??” I yelled.

“Figured you would still buy me stuff.”

I slammed the phone on the receiver. I was fuming. Not only did she play me, she was also trying to get to my money.

Hensley watched me throw stuff around the apartment. “What happened, man?”

I told him the whole story while he just listened, becoming more and more shocked.

After I had calmed down (a few days later), I questioned James over how he knew about me.

“I didn’t. She just brought up your name in a list of guys she was playing when I asked her that night.” He told me.

I didn’t hate Vasser for what had happened to me. He seemed like he had no idea, although when he found out it was obviously very amusing for him to discover that he had his manager’s girl.

Hensley and I committed to a drinking binge for the next couple of days. I spent most of my time at the bar slamming Carla, although I was too drunk to remember.

Even worse - I woke up on February 5th with a massive hangover and no memory of the night before. At the very least, I was in my own bed. However, lying next to me was some girl I didn’t know. She was sleeping peacefully, but I panicked briefly. I went to Hensley to find out what I had done.

“You met her at the bar last night, man. Don’t you remember?”

“No!” I responded, putting on my shirt.

“You really were loaded last night,” Hensley chuckled. “Anyways, she wanted to come home with you, so you let her. And let me tell you - took me awhile to fall asleep. . . you two were damn loud!”

“Sorry.” I said, sheepishly.

“Doesn’t bother me any, man. Just glad to know you’re over Carla.”

I thought of Carla, then realized I didn’t know what the name of the girl in my bed was. “Hensley. . . do you know what her name is?” I pointed to my room.

Hensley cracked a wide grin. “You’ll find this hilarious, man,” he said, pausing for a moment. “Her name is Caroline.”

“God DAMMIT!” I bellowed, but couldn’t help smiling at the same time. “What are the odds?”

Hensley was trying so hard to not burst out laughing, but eventually gave up. “I’m sorry man, but I find that so damn funny.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I responded, laughing along with him. “At least she’s still pretty this morning.”

He and I had a good laugh before I went back to my room. She was just waking up. “Morning. . .” she greeted, reaching for her clothes.

“Morning, Caroline.” I responded.

Her smile disappeared and turned into a frown. “It’s Carolyn.”