Julia London Read Online Free

suck, and I’m the worst ballplayer they’ve ever seen, that sort of thing—and then
I can’t seem to play. It’s a psychological thing.”
    “Oh!” She blinked wide green
eyes at him. “A psychological thing. I’m really sorry to hear that, Parker. I had
no idea you were having psychological problems.”
    “No, no,” he said with a laugh just
as Frank blustered a hearty, “No, no!”
    “Not psychological problems,” Parker corrected her gently as he put a hand out to stop
Frank from talking. “I just mean that negative feedback affects my head in the game. Do
you see what I am saying?”
    “Yes,” she said, and leaned over, put a slender hand on his
shoulder, and smiled so warmly he felt a little warm himself. “I understand. And I’m
really sorry you are struggling.”
    “Thanks. Of course, there was no way you could have
known. It’s just a baseball player’s thing. We’re a pretty superstitious
lot.”
    “Ah,” she said, removed her hand, and stuffed it back between her
knees.
    “So I was thinking maybe we could talk about some of the great games the
Mets have played this year,” he suggested. “We made some great plays against the
Philadelphia Phillies. And we smoked the Florida Marlins early in the
season.”
    “Right, and the Atlanta Braves,” she said, nodding.
    Well, no, not the Atlanta Braves. That was the series that had started his slump. “Yeah,
well . . . I was thinking of some of our better series.”
    “Right,” she said. “I understand.
You would rather I focus on the positive.”
    But there was something in the
glimmer of her eyes that gave Parker pause. “If you don’t mind,” he said, feeling suddenly
less confident.
    “May I ask a few questions?” she asked, and picked up a pad of paper and
pencil from the desk and made a note. “Is there anything about you personally our
listeners would find interesting?”
    “Ah . . . I don’t know of anything.”
    “He’s an avid
fisherman,” Frank interjected, which was a huge lie.
    “No, I’m—”
    “And he does a
lot of charity work with underprivileged kids.”
    That much was true, but he hated
that Frank made it sound like a gimmick. Not that Kelly O’Shay seemed to notice. She was
jotting down something. “Anything else?”
    “He loves to
read,” Frank blathered. “What’s the last book you read, Park?”
    Kelly glanced up
to hear his answer.
    “Jesus, Frank, I am not a big reader. I read the History of
Sports in America , and that took me a year,” he said with a laugh.
    Kelly laughed,
too, a melodious, sweet laugh. She glanced at the clock above their heads and said, “Oh
no, look at the time. I’m on the air in ten.” She flashed another winsome smile. “Come on,
I’ll show you where you can wait for your segment and hear the show. Rick, my producer,
will come and get you when it’s time.” She popped up off the desk. “You can bring your
drinks,” she said and walked out of the room.
    They quickly picked up their drinks
and followed her.

CHAPTER 04
    The first hour of Sports Day with
Kelly O’Shay, which Parker listened to in a room nearby, had lots of sound effects and
raucous laughter from Guido. Kelly covered tennis (the latest female teen phenom had been
seen in England making out with her high-dollar trainer), women’s soccer (amazing what
flashing a sports bra could do for a women’s sport), and bowling. No kidding. Bowling . Accompanied, of course, by the sound of pins falling.
    At the top of
the second hour, Kelly announced she had a very special guest. As she said it, a small,
young man opened the door of the room and beckoned Parker to follow him.
    “Remember to
show her what you’re working with,” Frank said with a wink. Parker rolled his eyes and
walked out.
    He stepped into the tiny studio booth. Kelly was standing behind a stool,
her arms folded. Guido, her sidekick, was seated, lounging back in his chair, feet up,
tossing a Nerf ball in the air over and over.
    “I