Change Up Read online

  “Nothing special,” I told her. “I was just working on coming up with some ideas for spring programs. Spring break will be coming up for the schools soon, and I want to have some things in place for the kids to do. I have ideas for the younger kids, but I haven’t been able to come up with anything the high schoolers might like.”

  “The high school kids?” Karen replied, shocked I would even mention them. “Have you seen many high school kids come in since you have been here Kristin? If we get one or two a month, it’s a shock.”

  “Maybe it’s because we don’t have anything they might like,” I answered. “We need some ideas that will get them interested in coming here.”

  “I don’t know,” Karen said skeptically as she leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her coffee. “Kids today just want to do stuff on their smartphones and not much else.”

  “Let me think about it for a bit,” I told her. “I’ll come up with something. I used to love coming to the library when I was a teen,” I said proudly.

  “No offense Kris,” Karen said, putting her feet up on the corner of my desk so I could see the black boots she was wearing, “but most teens don’t see going to the library as something fun to do. You might have been out of the ordinary in that way.” Karen smiled at me as she sipped her coffee some more.

  “Okay, so I was a little geeky,” I replied meekly. “That doesn’t mean we can’t make fun things that teens might like. There’s stuff out there we can try, we just have to work at it.”

  “Okay Boss,” Karen said to me, giving me a salute. She then heard someone milling around out in the library and got up to see if anyone needed help.

  I went back to scanning my computer, reading the few emails I got. One message caught my eye. It was a request for a copy of Dracula. It wasn’t the request for the book that was unusual, but the circumstances for the request made me take notice. The email asked if there was any way we could mail the book to the address. It seems the request came from a young girl who wanted the book to read to her grandmother, and she had no way to come down to the library to get it during the day. The email struck a chord with me, and I wanted to find a way to help the girl out.

  I walked out of my office to the front desk and saw Karen helping someone check out one of the latest best-selling thrillers we had.

  “Karen, do we have a copy of Dracula on the shelf?” I asked her.

  Karen punched the information into the computer. “Sure do,” she replied. “We have a couple of copies. Are you looking for light reading tonight?” she said with a smirk.

  I smirked back at her and walked over to the small horror section we had and grabbed one of the hardcovers off the shelf. I walked back to my office and printed out the email and grabbed my coat.

  “Where are you off to?” Karen asked as I walked by her.

  “To make a delivery,” I said to her. “I have to walk back home and get my car first. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  I tucked the book under my arm and walked quickly back to my apartment so I could get my car. It rarely left its parking spot these days since I walked everywhere, so I was a little worried if the car would start in the cold weather. It whined at me a little bit before finally turning over and I tried to get the heat going as quickly as possible.

  While the car warmed up and the heat slowly transitioned from ice cold to tepid warm, I looked at the email to grab the address to bring the book to. I was still getting used to where everything was in Chandler, and the address seemed like it was one just on the outskirts of town since it was given as 2 Martin Way on Route 5. I looked down at the name on the email, and it was Isabelle Martin. It was a bit unusual for someone to live at a house on the street with their own name, but in small towns anything is possible. The drive was just a few minutes, so I pulled out of my parking spot and headed out.

  Hopefully, this brings a smile to someone’s face, I thought as I moved down Main Street and made a left to head out to Route 5.

  At the very least it gives me something different to do today and create some goodwill with the community, I considered as I smiled to myself in the rearview mirror, looking forward to this little adventure.

  3

  Wes

  After taking the time to explain to my father just what had happened at spring training, and then gathering my belongings from the hotel, I knew I had to make a call to my agent, Randy Miller. Randy has been my agent ever since I was signed out of high school to play ball, and he has always done right by me. Some people may think that he is pushy and arrogant, and he is, but that’s what helps to make him so good at his job. As I drove up through Florida and Georgia, heading back home, I gave him a call at his office in New York. He knew what the call was about as soon as I got him on the line.

  “Wes, I heard what happened, and I’m sorry,” Randy started off the conversation. There was sincerity in his voice, and I knew he felt bad about my getting released.

  “Thanks, Randy,” I said to him as I tried not to sound like this was the worst day of my life.

  “I’ve already started making some calls, pinpointing teams that may need a first baseman or a DH, so I’ve got some feelers out for you already. I don’t think it will be too long before we hear from someone about an offer.”

  “I’m in no rush Randy,” I said to him resignedly. “To be honest, it feels good to be able to go home for a few days and spend some time with my folks and Izzy. I think I can use the break physically and mentally. It’s been a rough spring.”

  “I know it has bud,” Randy answered, trying to reassure me. “Take a few days to get yourself together, and I’ll see what I can come with for you. Once word gets around that you are available, I don’t think you’ll be hanging out for too long. Sit tight, and I’ll get to work for you. In the meantime, enjoy the ride home. The weather’s a little chillier up this way than what you had in Bradenton, so be prepared. I’ll talk to you as soon as I hear anything.”

  “Okay, Randy, thanks,” I said as I hung up the speakerphone. I turned the radio on to listen to something, anything to get my mind off what had happened, and I made the mistake of putting on a sports radio station. I heard them mention that I had gotten released today, so close to the end of spring training. They went on and on about how it might be tough for me to latch on somewhere else or that maybe my time was over in baseball.

  The thought that I was done had crossed my mind as well, and now that I had all this alone time on the ride home, it was becoming more and more of something for me to obsess over. Perhaps my time was over after spending half my life playing ball. It certainly was a possibility, but at thirty-five I wasn’t exactly ready to just sit around for the next fifty years of my life doing nothing. I had made a lot of money playing, and I was always careful with my spending, saving, and investing. Izzy and I could live quite comfortably without an issue. The problem would be finding a way to fill that empty hole in my life if I wasn’t getting up to play ball each day.

  Sure, I could spend time with my daughter, but Izzy was fifteen now. How much time does she really want to spend with her father? She’s gotten so used to not having me around for nearly ten months out of the year that I didn’t know how thrilled she would be to have me there all the time. She has school, her friends, her hobbies, and in a few years, she will be ready to go off to college. It will be great to be there for her, but then what happens when she is gone?

  My parents were getting older, and even though Dad was in pretty good health, Mom was not. Cancer has been her main battle for the better part of a year now, and it was going to be difficult to deal with. Dad has had a lot of the burden on him, but with Izzy’s help, they have been able to make things work. With everything going on, maybe having me around would be a good thing right now. Dad has been tasked with taking care of Mom, Izzy and the horse farm that was a big part of the land they lived on.

  Dad has run the horse farm since I was little, and it has been his pride and joy. I learned to ride at a pretty young age and
spent my formative years working alongside him, tending to the horses. But once baseball became a bigger part of my life, I spent less time there to focus on playing. After I made it to the majors, it afforded me the money to make sure that the farm was there for him and my mother. I bought the land adjacent to theirs and expanded the area for them, as well as built a home for me, Izzy and Rachel, at the time, just on top of the hill beyond their home. I always knew that this was where I was going to return to, I just never thought it would happen now.

  I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I knew retirement came for ballplayers at a much younger age than people in other careers, but as a player, you always think that day is further off than it may really be. No one likes to hear they aren’t wanted anymore, can’t perform as well as they used to or that they won’t be missed when they leave, but the reality is that we’re all replaceable when it comes to working. I’ve only been gone from the team for a few hours, but I am sure they are already focused on the new, younger kid that will make a bigger impact than I would.

  I heard a few phone calls on the talk radio show mention me, and how it was about time they got rid of me or how my time had passed. Fans are passionate in many ways about the game, and they want to see their team win, something that hasn’t happened in Pittsburgh in a long while now, so I can understand their frustration. As a player, you grow used to hearing both sides of the argument. You love the cheers you get at the stadium or when people come up to you in public and say how much they love you as a player, but just as often you hear the jeers, boos and far worse from fans that are frustrated and want you to be better. It’s never easy no matter how you look at it.

  Getting lost in my thoughts had allowed me to get much further along on my drive than I thought I would when I left Florida. Typically, the drive home from Florida would take roughly seventeen hours, so as much as I wanted to make it home in one day, I knew I would not be able to do it in one shot. All the coffee in the world wouldn’t let me get there. I had left Bradenton around ten in the morning, and as it was now approaching seven in the evening. The sun was starting to set, and I knew I wouldn’t be driving much longer. I was still in Virginia and had about eight hours of driving left, so I got off the highway and stopped at the first hotel I could find to see if I could get a room for the night.

  The first place that came along was one of the big chain hotels, and while this hotel wasn’t large, it was going to suit my needs just fine. I pulled into one of the parking spots, and saw that the lot didn’t have a lot of cars there other than mine, probably the norm for a Thursday evening in March. I stepped out of the car and immediately felt a chill in the air. There was probably a twenty or thirty-degree difference from when I left Florida to now. I grabbed one of my small bags out of the trunk and my leather jacket off the back seat before I walked to the entrance and through the automatic doors of the hotel.

  The hotel itself was clean and bright, with pleasant lighting throughout the lobby area. There was a young man behind the front desk, dressed in the jacket and tie appropriate for this hotel branch. His nametag read Bruce, and he looked no more than twenty-five. He smiled at me from the time I got within fifteen feet of the front desk until I stood right in front of him, a toothy grin that seemed almost robotic in nature. His short neatly cropped brown hair looked like it never moved or grew at all.

  “Good evening sir,” he said to me cordially. “How can I help you tonight?

  “Hi,” I replied. “I was looking for a room for tonight.”

  “Do you have a reservation?” Bruce asked me dutifully.

  “No, no I don’t,” I told him. I assumed by the lack of cars in the parking lot that getting a room wasn’t going to be a problem, and I saw Bruce typing away at his keyboard as he worked to locate a room for me.

  “I have several rooms you can choose from tonight,” Bruce said with his customary smile. “I have rooms with double beds, queen beds or king beds, your choice.”

  “I’ll take one of the king-size beds, please,” I said to him as I go out my wallet from my front jeans pocket. I handed over my credit card to Bruce, and he ran it through the card system. He took a look at the card and handed it back to me, presenting me with the hotel slip to sign along with it.

  Bruce then handed the small white keycard over to me. “Here’s your key Mr. Martin,” he told me. “You’re in room 304, on the third floor. The elevator is just to the left here in the lobby, and there is complimentary breakfast in the lounge in the morning starting at 7 AM.”

  I peered over into the lounge and saw the bar there along with some tables, a couch, and a large screen TV.

  “Is the bar open?” I asked Bruce as I put my credit card away and picked up my bag.

  “Yes sir, until 12 AM. You can also get food there until 11.”

  “Great, thanks, Bruce,” I said as I nodded and smiled at him.

  “You’re very welcome Mr. Martin,” Bruce answered. “You have a great night.”

  I walked over to the elevator and pressed the button. Within a few seconds, the doors slid open, and a man who looked to be about my age walked out with his young son. The boy was wearing a baseball cap, and the man took a long look at me as I smiled at both of them. I was pretty sure he recognized me and was probably wondering what I was doing hundreds of miles away from where I should be. I was still wondering the same thing. As the elevator door closed, I could see the man still looking at me, pointing and saying something to his son.

  The elevator arrived on the third floor and I moved out into the hall. I found my room just two doors away from the elevator, pushed the keycard in, and opened the door. I placed my bag on the obligatory chair across from the bed and sat down on the bed. It felt like the typical hotel bed to me, one I had been on in thousands of places over thousands of days. It was firm, but not too firm, a bit saggy in spots, and it had the same floral bed cover that every other hotel has. I pulled out my phone to give Dad a call and let him know where I was at.

  “Hey,” I heard his voice answer right away. “I was wondering when I would hear from you. Where are you at?”

  “I’m in Virginia,” I told him. “I’m about seven hours away. I was getting punchy, so I stopped at a hotel for the night.”

  “Good idea,” Dad said in his fatherly tone. “So you’ll be here by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I should be,” I told Dad. He was never much at small talk or conversation on the phone. “How’s Izzy?”

  “Oh, she’s fine,” Dad said to me. “I didn’t tell her you were coming home; I didn’t want to worry her. She’s been in with your mother all day. She stayed home from school today. I needed to get out to the stable with Dr. Walters to check the horses, so she stayed home with your mother. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine Dad. What’s wrong with Mom?”

  “Oh, you know, same old stuff. Some days are worse than others. Your mother just had trouble breathing today is all. The oxygen helps, but it doesn’t always do the trick. I just wanted someone there in case she needed anything while I was out.”

  Dad’s voice never wavered. It always had the calm, monotone to it, whether he was happy, sad, or angry, so I could never tell when things were bad or not.

  “I can get home tonight if you really need some help, Dad,” I told him, letting him know my concern.

  “Stop it, Wes, everything is fine. Get a good night of rest, and we’ll see you in the afternoon tomorrow. You want to talk to Izzy?” Dad asked me.

  “No, it’s fine,” I replied to him. “Just… just tell her I was tired after practice and that I love her. I don’t want her to worry about me.”

  “I’ll let her know. Talk to you later,” Dad told me as he hung up.

  I put the phone in my shirt pocket and felt my stomach grumble a bit. I hadn’t bothered to stop for any food along the way and was starving at this point. I pulled myself up off the bed and went back to the elevator, pressing the call button. Again, the elevator arrived quickly, and I stepped
in and went right down to the main floor.

  I walked past the front desk, with Bruce smiling that same smile at me as his eyes followed me all the way over to the lounge. I walked over to the small bar area and sat at the bar. There was no one else around, but within seconds the bartender appeared from a door behind the bar.

  He was an older man, looking older than me. He was balding, with a few stray gray hairs on top, but he was tall and had a proud stature. He stood in front of me and smiled, as he slid a small cocktail napkin in front of me.

  “Evening,” he said with his slight southern drawl. “What can I get for you?”

  I glanced over at the selections of beers behind him and then decided to have something a little stronger. I spied a bottle of Grey Goose behind the bartender, my favorite vodka.

  “I’ll have a Grey Goose martini, on the rocks, please,” I said to the bartender. I glanced at his nametag and saw his name was Gary.

  “Coming up,” he said as he turned and grabbed the bottle of vodka off the shelf. I watched him expertly mix the vodka and vermouth in his shaker, using just the right amounts of each. He shook the mixture slightly, and I could hear the ice rattle in the shaker for a few seconds before he poured the drink out into the rocks glass filled with ice. He tossed in a couple of green olives on a toothpick and placed the drink in front of me.