The clanging of pots and pans was so loud Paul could have sworn someone was slamming them together next to his ear. He groaned and rolled over onto his back. Lord have mercy. He cracked a crusted eyelid, and the blurry image of a young Latina woman gradually came into focus. Long, brown, wavy hair. A tank top over white cotton panties. Sassy swing to her hips. His heart jumped into panic mode as he wracked his brain. What the hell had he done last night? He tried to stretch naturally, working his eyes into fully operational mode. She sauntered by again and disappeared down a hallway briefly. On the way back, she caught his eye, and he was sure he turned six shades of red.
"Ooh, papi, you're awake! Long night for an old man like you!" she teased, waving a small Teflon sautee pan at him. He blanched and kept searching his disloyal memory . . . nothing. Jesus, she was young. She could practically be his daughter. What the hell did he do?? He wasn't a prude, by any stretch, but it wasn't like him to end up in a situation like this, either, and his brain felt like it was in quicksand right now. With a sudden awkward fear, he looked down. Whew. At least he had his boxers on. The pans clanged again, and he winced and raised a hand to his temples. Jesus. Just then, a man's voice called out from the hallway.
"Jesus Christ, Maria, where the hell are my pants??" The voice was immediately recognizable as Alejandro Lopes, the Estrellas' long-time hitting coach. Just like that, the evening started to come back to Paul. They'd gone out to celebrate. Twelve wins in a row, and 16 in the last 17. All of that had snuck them into first place in the Norte. And on top of that it had been Alejandro's fiftieth birthday the night before. But who the hell was the girl, Paul wondered?
Alejandro Lopes
"They're folded, in your drawer!" Maria shouted, and Paul winced again at the sound. "You know, where normal adults keep their clothes?" Paul levered himself into a sitting position with a groan, just as Alejandro came out of the hallway, with a small canvas duffel bag on his shoulder. The smell of cooking eggs and coffee wafted into the room. Paul's stomach roiled uncomfortably at the thought of food.
"Don't mind her, Paul," Alejandro waved, "this insolent brat is my daughter, Maria." Maria stuck her tongue out at her father.
"Awww papa," she pouted, "why'd you have to spoil the surprise? I was having fun."
"Because I'm a good person, Maria, that's why. Now you be a good girl too and pour me a cup of coffee. One for you, Paul?" Paul grunted assent, then thought better of his manners.
"Yes, please," he croaked. He glanced at his watch. It was still early, but they had to be off to Chihuahua again. Whoever set up this schedule hadn't been too concerned about their travel itineraries. Bleary-eyed, he staggered to his feet. Alejandro pointed him in the direction of the bathroom with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
Breakfast was a pleasant affair, with Maria chattering away. Paul nursed a black coffee and a couple of Aleve that Alejandro had dug up for him. The huevos rancheros Maria had whipped up LOOKED tantalizing, but his stomach was rebellious and wanted none of it. Rather than offend Maria by accepting some and pushing it around his plate, he pleaded mercy instead.
Maria filled out the picture about his hitting coach while they ate. Alejandro had been born in Venezuela, and his family had emigrated to the U.S. when he was twelve. They had bounced around California during his childhood. Alejandro had married young, to a fellow Venezuelan immigrant, and they had Maria when they were just 21. As it turned out, then, Maria was quite a bit older than she looked. She had just turned 29 the week before, which temporarily made Paul feel better for having slept with her . . . until his slow-moving brain realized he HADN'T slept with anyone. Maria had grown up in Yorba Linda. Sadly, Alejandro's wife Eugenia had passed in a car accident in 2014 when Maria was just 17. Alejandro had been working as a hitting instructor at Cal State Fullerton, but after Eugenia's death, he accepted a better-paid position with Hermosillo and moved to Mexico. Maria had stayed in Yorba Linda with her aunt and uncle until she graduated high school. She had split time since then, sometimes with Alejandro, sometimes in the states with her relatives. She was an elementary school teacher and had just arrived to spend some time with Alejandro during her summer break.
As they chatted, Paul realized again how isolated he had been for a long time after the separation, and how good it felt to be in the company of friends. He thanked Maria warmly as they left the apartment, and she threw her tan arms around him and planted a wet kiss on his cheek. Alejandro shrugged.
"Don't get a big head. She's like that with all of my friends. You ready?" Paul, nodded, and they headed out.
Team Status
Season Record: 30-18
Record for this Stretch: 6-1
Position: 1st
Standout Performers
SS Carlos Trujillo (.400/.455/.450 4 RBI, 3 R, 7 SB)
RF Scotty Smith (.316/.435/.579 1 HR, 4 RBI, 4 R)
Carlos Trujillo
SP William Lucas (12.1 IP, 2.92 ERA, 3.52 FIP, 1.54 WHIP)
RP Justin Meeks (4.2 IP, 0.00 ERA, 2.74 FIP, 0.43 WHIP)
William Lucas