‘No,’ Jake said, thinking about how all the guys on the team would get on him for having a fat-assed wife.

  ‘It’s not okay?’ Christina said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘What’s not okay?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Then Jake realized what they were talking about. ‘Plan the wedding yourself. Why not?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Christina said. ‘So how much you wanna spend?’

  ‘Whatever. Couple hundred grand, half a mil.’

  ‘You want to spend half a million dollars on our wedding?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Wow, I can’t believe this is happening. I might have to take some time off work to start planning everything. First we have to decide where to get married. You said you want to do it in December, right? So if we do it in New York, we’ll have to do it indoors.’

  ‘Right.’ Jake was distracted again, remembering how great Penelope Cruz had looked in his dream.

  ‘I was also thinking about something else,’ Christina said. ‘Maybe I should move in with you in Pittsburgh.’

  Jake began to sweat.

  ‘Why would you want to do that?’

  ‘Why not? I mean, I’m gonna have to quit my job anyway after we get married, and it would be easier to plan everything if we’re together.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’m not gonna be around a lot. I mean, I start working out in Florida in December, then I have spring training in February.’

  ‘You’re always gonna be busy with baseball. But I’ll see you a lot more in Pittsburgh than I will if I stay in Brooklyn.’

  Looking in her eyes, trying not to look at her ass, Jake said, ‘But I thought you said you didn’t want to live with anybody before you got married.’

  ‘Yeah, but now that we have a date set - or at least we have a month set - I don’t see the point in being apart. I mean, we’re gonna be spending the rest of our lives together anyway, so we might as well get started. . . . Why? You don’t want me to move in with you?’

  ‘No, of course I want you to move in with me,’ Jake said. ‘But I don’t want you to have to leave your job and your father—’

  ‘I don’t care about my job, and my father’ll be okay here until he moves into the condo. . . . You know, maybe we should move up the wedding date. I want to get pregnant right away and start a family. Wouldn’t that be great?’

  Jake pictured her pregnant, ballooning up to one hundred and eighty pounds.

  ‘I gotta talk to you about something,’ he said. ‘Something very important.’

  ‘What is it?’ Christina asked, concerned.

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ Jake said. ‘I mean, I don’t mean anything personal by this or anything. I mean, you can do whatever you want to do, but how about you go on a diet?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Just to drop, like, five, ten pounds. I mean, I’m not saying you need to lose weight or anything. I’m just saying maybe if you want to, you know, firm up a little - I mean for the wedding and everything - maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, you know? If you want, I can hire a trainer for you. It wouldn’t be a big deal just, like, five days a week till you get in shape. I mean, get in better shape.’

  Christina turned away from Jake and stood there with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Again Jake noticed the cellulite and dimples on the sides of her thighs, and he was glad he’d had the balls to say something about it. Honesty was always the best policy, and it was better to nip a problem in the bud before it blew up into something big.

  In this case, something really big.

  After several seconds Christina went to the closet and put on a robe, standing with her back to him. He realized she was crying.

  ‘What’s wrong, baby?’

  ‘Just stay the hell away from me.’

  ‘I don’t get it. Why’re you freaking?’

  ‘You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe I was so stupid.’

  ‘Whoa, baby, I think you’re getting the wrong idea here. I just thought you wanted to look your best for the wedding, that’s all. I mean, lots of players’ wives have PTs and if you’re gonna have paparazzi following you wherever you go, I just thought you might want to lose some weight off your ass, that’s all.’

  ‘My ass?’

  ‘Not your ass.’

  ‘You just said ass.’

  ‘I didn’t mean ass. I meant everywhere. I mean—’

  ‘Why don’t you just get out?’

  ‘Whoa—’

  ‘I’m serious.’

  ‘This is crazy, baby. You know I love your ass. Your ass is the best thing about you.’

  ‘Just leave!’

  ‘Whoa, whoa, come on, relax, okay? Just take it easy.’ Jake was panicking, imagining the big headlines - ‘J.T. Accused of Sexual Assault,’ ‘J.T. Rapes Teenager,’ ‘Wedding Canceled’ - and how his whole career would be shot to hell.

  ‘Come on, baby, you know I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. If I didn’t, why would I want to marry you? Think about that for a second. You know how many marriage proposals I get in the mail every day? I get so many letters guys on the team call me Santa.’

  Christina almost smiled.

  ‘Look, I don’t know why I said those stupid things,’ Jake went on. ‘It must be stress, you know? All this weekend, party, cominghome shit. I think you’re the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I mean it - I couldn’t live without you.’ Quoting Enrique Iglesias, he, said, ‘I will stand by you forever. You can take my breath away.’ He held her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder. ‘You drive me so crazy - you’re so perfect in every way. Let’s start over, pretend we just woke up. How’d you sleep, baby?’

  Christina waited a few seconds, then said, ‘Good.’ ‘Me too,’ Jake said. ‘Know why? Because I had the most beautiful woman in the world in bed next to me, that’s why.’

  He kissed her neck softly; then he turned her around and started kissing her lips.

  When he could tell he was getting her all worked up he pulled back and said, ‘I better let you get dressed, but I’ll see you tonight, okay? We’ll go out to some hot restaurant in the city, Nobu, Balthazar, Bobby Flay’s joint - you name it. Then we’ll go uptown and take a horse-and-buggy ride in Central Park. We’ll talk about the wedding, and where we’re gonna live, our whole future. Sound cool?’

  ‘I guess,’ Christina said.

  Jake kissed her again, then called a limo. Christina showered and dressed for work, then the limo arrived.

  ‘You go,’ Christina said. ‘I still have to put on my makeup.’

  ‘Sure, baby? I mean, I can have the guy stick around till you’re ready.’

  ‘No, it’s okay, you go. I can take a bus.’

  He kissed her good-bye at the front door, then asked her if she was okay with everything. She said she was, and he said, ‘Cool,’ and took off.

  In the back of the limo Jake stretched out, glad to be alone. He knew he’d smoothed things over, but he figured he’d do more damage control later, just in case, telling her how sorry he was, and then eventually he’d have to figure out some way to get her to drop that poundage. Maybe he’d stick her in a Pilates class, or better yet, just cut to the chase and take her in for some lipo.

  Jake asked the driver to swing over to Flatlands and stop at a newsstand. Jake went out and picked up a copy of the Daily News, then handed the bearded Pakistani dude a dollar.

  ‘Hey, how are you?’ the guy said to him, smiling widely.

  Jake didn’t mind being recognized, but he hated it when total strangers talked to him like they were old friends.

  ‘Great,’ Jake said, waiting for the guy to take the buck.

  ‘No charge for you, buddy,’ the guy said. ‘But how about you give me autograph?’

  He held out a notepad and a Bic for Jake to sign with. Jake took the pen and scribbled his name.

  ‘Hey, thank you, buddy,’ the guy said, ‘I keep this forever. And wait . . .’ He took out a disposable camera and said, ‘For to hang up in store, okay? I take your picture?’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Jake said, rolling his eyes slightly, and then he managed a smile as the shutter snapped.

  ‘Thank you, buddy,’ the guy said. ‘I put this in frame and keep forever. And congratulations - may you have a beautiful baby boy.’

  Jake had started out of the store, but now he turned back excitedly and started turning pages of the newspaper. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Right here, buddy. I show you.’

  The guy took the newspaper, folded it open to a page, and handed it back to Jake.

  At first Jake was disappointed. He’d expected to see a big story with a booming headline, but it got only a sidebar, as part of the article about the block party last night. But at least the headline was there, ‘J.T. to Wed’, and there was a picture, taken last night, of him kissing Christina. Thank God the picture caught her only from the waist up.

  Jake read the story, glad that most of his quotes had made it in, but he was still pissed off that the paper didn’t make a bigger deal about it. The front page headline was ‘Horror in the Bronx’, about a guy who’d shot his wife and three kids while they were asleep, then blown his brains out. Fathers were always doing things like that to their families, but how often did Jake Thomas announce a wedding date?

  Then Jake turned back to the story about himself, deciding that at least he’d one-upped Marianna Fernandez. Now if she took her story public, the press would be so psyched about the wedding that no one would care about some statutory-rape claim by a fourteen-year-old Mexican girl from San Diego. Her story might not even make it into the papers at all.

  The limo turned onto Eighty-first Street, and Jake was happy to see, among the crowd in front of his house, camera crews and guys with mikes. When the groupies and reporters noticed the limo they rushed into the street.

  ‘Do you have a location picked out for the wedding?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Where’re you going for your honeymoon?’

  ‘We’re keeping that private.’

  ‘You gonna have kids right away?’

  ‘You bet.’

  ‘Does this mean your partying days are behind you?’

  ‘Absolutely. I’m a family man now.’

  There were more questions, and Jake answered them all patiently and politely, smiling the whole time as he signed autographs. A girl in the back yelled, ‘Dump her, Jake!’ and a very good-looking redhead up front begged, ‘Marry me instead -please!’

  After a while Jake made his way to the stoop leading to his parents’ house. His mother had opened the door, waiting for him, and Jake waved good-bye to the cheering crowd.

  ‘Oh, my God, I’m so happy for you!’ Donna Thomas said, hugging Jake tightly.

  Jake was lost for a few seconds, then realized she was talking about the wedding news.

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ he said. ‘Yeah, I’m really happy too.’

  ‘So is it true? It’s really going to be next December?’

  ‘That’s the plan,’ he said.

  ‘This is so wonderful. Reporters have been calling all morning.

  It’s been so crazy, I just started letting the machine pick up.’

  Jake’s cell started ringing.

  ‘We should celebrate tonight - have a special dinner.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Jake said. ‘Christina and I want to have a romantic thing tonight.’

  ‘Oh,’ Donna said, sounding disappointed. ‘Well, I guess I can understand that. How about breakfast tomorrow? Or brunch? Michelle and Roger want to see you again.’

  ‘Yeah, sounds great.’Jake headed up the stairs, flipping open his cell. ‘J.T.’

  ‘Good, didn’t wake you,’ Robert Henderson said. ‘So you see the paper yet?’

  ‘Didn’t make the front page, but gotta hand it to you - nice job, bro.’

  ‘That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Reuters and AP picked up the story and it’s all over the Net. It’s what, eight-something your time, and chat rooms are buzzing about it, and you have a record number of posts on the “J.T. Talk” message board. I got dozens of interview requests - we’re talking USA Today, Extra, ET. Everybody wants to know details. Can you give me some more info on Christina? What does she do for a living? When did you meet her? How did you meet? Can you get me some pics?’

  Jake, now upstairs in the guest bedroom, put his phone’s hands-free earpiece in and said, ‘I don’t think that’s the right way to go.’

  ‘What’s not the right way to go?’

  ‘I mean, we got them coming after us now, right?’

  ‘You kiddin’ me? My phone’s ringing off the friggin’ hook. I got e-mails up the wazoo.’

  ‘That’s what I’m talking about,’Jake said, opening his garment bag, deciding what shirt to wear, the black linen Dolce & Gabbana or the rust silk Versace. ‘If a girl puts out on the first date, the guy never calls her again, right?’

  ‘I’m not following,’ Robert said.

  ‘We gotta play hard to get.’ Jake decided on the Dolce & Gabbana because he remembered he got laid the last time he wore it. ‘Tell them I’m spending some alone time with Christina and won’t be available for public comment until next week. It’ll make them wonder, What’s going on? Where’s the wedding gonna be? Who’s Christina Mercado? All that shit. Then we start leaking the info slowly, not giving them too much to chew on, you know? That way we keep the story in the news - it stays big.’

  ‘I hear what you’re saying,’ Robert said, ‘but I think that’s a mistake. The media’s fickle - they get on one story, then get on another. Something happens in the Middle East or Britney gets married again and it’s sayonara.’

  ‘I told you how I want to do it,’ Jake said, laying out the Dolce & Gabbana on the bed with beige Valentino slacks, loving the way they went together. ‘I’m not shooting my load with this baby today - no way.’

  Robert didn’t say anything for a few seconds - Jake just heard deep breathing - then Robert said, ‘Throw me a bone, at least. What does she do for a living? What do her parents do?’

  ‘She’s a dental hygienist, her mother’s dead, and her father’s a degenerate gambler. Whoops, there’s my other line.’ Jake cut Robert off and took the other call. ‘J.T.’

  ‘Jake, Stu,’ Jake’s agent said.

  ‘You calling to congratulate me?’ Jake said.

  ‘I just saw it scroll across the bottom of the screen on E!,’ Stu said. ‘So when did this happen?’

  ‘Last night.’

  ‘Spur-of-the-moment thing?’

  ‘Kinda.’ Unbuttoning his shirt, Jake caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the back of the door and immediately furrowed his eyebrows.

  ‘Christina Mercado, huh?’ Stu said. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard you mention that name before.’

  ‘We’ve been engaged six years.’

  ‘That’s what it said - high school sweetheart. I didn’t know you were engaged, though.’

  ‘So what’s up?’ Jake took off his pants, still looking at himself.

  ‘I just wanted to congratulate you,’ Stu said, ‘and I wanted to give you some more good news. Spoke to Ken again late yesterday, and he okayed the PT in the clubhouse.’

  ‘What about the SUV limo?’

  ‘That’s gonna be a tough nut,’ Stu said, ‘and I really advise you to back off on that. Just play it cool, have a killer year next year; then the ball’s back in our court. We can go in there with whatever team we negotiate with, whether it’s the Dodgers or the Yankees or whoever, and ask for the world.’

  ‘I got a better idea,’ Jake said. ‘Call him back and tell him, “No limo, no Jake-O.”‘

  ‘Jake, I really—’

  Jake ended the call and went down the hallway to the bathroom. He took a long shower, then was tweezing a few nearly microscopic hairs around his eyebrows when his cell rang. The display showed it was Christina, so he let his voice mail pick up. About ten minutes later, when he was finished tweezing, he listened to her message:

  ‘Jake, I don’t know why you’re not picking up. I just got to work and saw the article - I can’t believe you did this to me. I mean, we didn’t even discuss it. I’m so pissed off at you right now. I just can’t understand why—’

  Jake deleted the message without listening to the rest of it. He had no idea what was going on in that chick’s head, why she was freaking so much about everything. This should’ve been the happiest day of her life. Her plans to marry Jake Thomas were announced in the Daily News, and the story was spreading across the country like the fucking West Nile virus. Other girls would’ve killed to be in her place right now, and here she was, finding something to bitch about.

  Suddenly feeling a little down, Jake returned to the guest room and decided on the Ritmo Mvndo watch instead of the Charriol. After spending a few minutes putting on his Creme de la Mer face cream and styling his hair with Frederic Fekkai Texturizing Balm, he dabbed himself with some Acqua di Parma cologne and went downstairs.

  Donna Thomas was in the kitchen, mixing batter in a bowl.

  ‘I’m making you pancakes.’

  ‘I don’t eat carbs,’ Jake said. ‘How about some scrambled egg whites?’

  ‘Oh . . . okay. Why don’t you sit down and relax? You’ve been home almost a whole day and we’ve hardly spent any time together.’

  She started cracking eggs, and Jake sat at the kitchen table. Outside, fans were chanting his name.

  ‘There they go again,’ Donna said. ‘You know a few of them were here all night?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, these three girls. They rang the bell after midnight, asking if you came home yet; then they were still here in the morning. So many people love you, Jake.’

  Donna made the egg whites, and Jake was eating them with a glass of skim milk when Antowain entered and said, ‘There he is -my son the party animal.’

  ‘Here we go again,’ Jake said.

  ‘I’m surprised you’re awake,’ Antowain said. ‘I thought you’d be sleeping in till at least noon today.’

  ‘Come on,’ Donna said to her husband.

  But Antowain continued, ‘So where’d you go? Clubbing? Hit the town hard? Get your picture on Page Six of the Post?’