Summary, continued, taken from the original site of posting: Cody, a 6' dark hair beauty plays baseball for The California Warriors, the newest expansion team in MLB. Formerly a male only league, Cody has shown that a woman can play with the boys, and be in the running for league MVP as well. A chance encounter with a blonde woman and… well… we follow Cody as she tries to shake her past and find out what true love is all about.
MVP
by: C. E. Gray
Standard Disclaimer: This is an Uber, so the characters will probably remind you of our two favorite ladies, but other than that, it's mine. The plot and so on belong to me (with the exception of the name Cody Madison and her status as a baseball player, which is used with permission). Let me know if you want to borrow anything, or the like.
MVP is copyrighted 2001 CE Gray
Sex Disclaimer: But of course! This is the story of two women who love each other, and have been known to express that love. Nothing extremely graphic, as always, but if you can't handle a little love, I suggest you click "back".
Language Disclaimer: Let's just say I'd be in big trouble if I ever talked like this in front of my mother. There are lots and lots of bad words in here, because a six-foot tall woman is not someone you want to piss off, but when she gets mad, she does curse. Please have a bar of soap handy.
Thanks to: Again, thanks to my beta and best friend, Amber, and my friend Charlene, for all their input into this story. And for keeping this little bard going when things got tough. I love you guys!
No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.
Robert Frost
Without further ado, the story!
CHAPTER ONE
Cody Madison sighed as she sat on the bench. The crowd sounded in her ears, screaming fans cheering on the home team, but Madison had long since learned to tune them out. Nothing was worth hearing, unless Joe Henry, her coach, was talking to her, or one of her teammates had something to say.
After three years with the San Diego Warriors, still a fairly new baseball team, Cody knew what she had to do to concentrate: nothing. The woman was the only female on the team, and she had to block out the sounds of her male companions, the fans, and even her own breathing. Nothing could be focused on other than her own mind, in which she was formulating where to send the ball.
"Madison, you're up after Brunswick," called Joe, bringing her out of her thoughts, and Cody nodded. She was always up to bat after Matthew, but that was only because she had the power to hit almost every ball through nearly all the opposing team's basemen or outfielders, and Matt was usually only up when there was one out and at least one on base.
Number 23 got to her feet, stretching her tall six foot frame, making sure her long black hair was still braided tightly. She tucked it under her helmet, before picking up her trusty black wooden bat, which she secretly referred to as Dark Sky. The way she figured it, if men could give names to their cars, among other more private things, why couldn't she name her bat?
Cody stood just outside the dugout, doing a few practice swings, letting herself get back into the feeling.
Cody watched as Matt hit a strong line drive over the first baseman's head, managing to get to first safely. The bases were loaded, now.
"Go for it, Madison," said Joe, and she nodded to him. Adjusting her gloves, and her gray uniform, which had the word "Warriors" written in black cursive letters across the front, Cody Madison stepped to the plate, smiling inwardly when the outfielders took a few paces back.
The third basemen for the opposing team, the Saint Louis Cardinals, Nick Hunter, tightened his glove, hoping against hope that Madison wouldn't send a ball in his direction. The last time the woman had been on plate against his team, a few months ago, she had hit a strong line drive right to first, which Hunter had tried to catch. The ball went into his glove with such speed, that he dropped it as his wrist was wrenched backwards, spraining it severely.
He hoped he wouldn't have to go through a month of physical therapy, again.
Cody wrapped both hands around her bat, and brought it above her right shoulder, keeping a close watch on the position of the pitcher.
Hm, she thought. He's gonna try to get me to strike with a fast ball. Fat chance. Guy must be new; most know that I live for fast pitches.
Smiling to herself as she felt Dark Sky connect solidly with the ball, Cody took off for first base, glancing up just in time to see the white sphere glide into some lucky fan's glove. She jogged the rest of the way back to home plate, allowing herself to listen to the crowd, as they chanted her name.
"Way to go, Cody," said Matt, giving her a high-five as she returned to the dugout, where the entire team was cheering her. "That puts us in a 12-3 lead!"
"Nice hit, Madison," added Joe, the manager. "I knew there was a reason I liked you." Cody just nodded, and retreated back to the bench to meditate, until the teams changed positions, or it was her turn to bat again; whichever came first.
"Wakey, wakey, Cody," said Matt, a while later, tapping her on the shoulder. Blue eyes fell upon the man, as she raised an eyebrow at his interruption. "Come on, girl. We're out. Joe says he wants you to play left field." Again, the woman of many words, Cody nodded, and grabbed her glove as she followed the guys to the playing field.
Well, if it isn't the almighty Mark McGwire, Jr., thought Cody, upon seeing who was up first to bat. Taking after his old man, who retired years ago, in 2007 or so. Oh, well.
As the blonde man stepped up to the plate, his physique rather impressive given his age, he dug his feet into the dirt, and eyed the pitcher, carefully, ready to add another home run to his record, which was steadily approaching that of his father. When the ball was thrown, Mark swung with all his might, sending the ball straight to the short stop, who caught it with ease. The legend's son threw his bat to the ground as he returned to the dugout, angry with himself.
You're letting all that fame and pressure go to your head, smirked Cody. Temper, temper. No need to throw things, Mark.
Oh, great. It's Rick Rutland, Mr. Ground Ball himself.
Cody steeled herself for the ball, which was sent to right field, so she shrugged it off, spitting out her gum as it lost its taste. It was the last inning, and there was no doubt the Warriors were going to win, but that didn't mean Cody didn't play with any less heart.
One out, one on first, and only two pitches into the last half of the inning, she thought, proud of her team. She watched, uninterested, as the next batter struck out at the hands of one of the Warriors' best pitchers, James Corbel.
And what have we here? Oh, Jim… tsk, tsk, tsk, she scolded the Cardinal's new manager in her mind. You're sending Ramirez out in the ninth? What are you smoking? Jesus Christ, man, don't send out your weakest hitter when you're this far behind! For crying out loud, use that tiny brain of yours for something, Jim!
Jesus Ramirez missed the first two pitches, giving him one strike and one ball, and told himself he had to connect with this one. His career had been going badly all season, and his fans, even at home, were depleting, so he had to bring his reputation back up somehow.
The pitch was made, and so was the hit; a low ball to left field. Cody saw this, and ran towards it, realizing it was going to bounce.
Son of a bitch!
With a burst of speed, the woman stuck out her glove as she slid on her side, and felt the satisfying pressure as the ball entered her mitt. Getting to her knees, she threw the baseball to second, where Matt caught it, and the runner was pronounced out.
A cheer went up in the stands, and on the field, as the Warriors remained undefeated. Matt helped Cody to her feet, before slapping her on the back, happily.
"That was a great catch, Cody," he said, and Cody playfully knocked his helmet off his head, revealing black hair in a crew cut, and dancing brown eyes that were usually hidden by the brim of his hat. The man looked up at her, wryly, but smiled.
"Not so bad yourself," she said, giving the man a small grin. Matt was one of the few people who could get more than a nod, shrug, or noncommittal grunt out of the tall woman.
"Yeah, just don't throw so hard next time, huh?" he asked, jokingly, flexing his wrist. "You about took my hand off." Cody shrugged, as if she couldn't help it, and allowed her teammates to congratulate and thank her, before heading into the dugout to retrieve her bat and other belongings.
"Where'd you learn a move like that, Madison?" asked Joe. "I sure as hell never taught you that!" Cody chuckled, but shrugged. "Well, good play, at any rate. We've got a few days off, and then a game in Phoenix, so enjoy it. Good game, guys," he said, and moved on to speak with the other players.
Cody placed her glove over her bat, grabbed her black baseball cap, and went to the locker room, slipping away before any reporters had a chance to catch her. Screaming fans, proud teammates, and autographs she could handle pretty well, but Cody Madison despised talking to the press. She'd avoid the torture anyway she could, no matter if she was the hero of the game or not.
Shoving her things in the locker, the woman decided to hit the showers while the other guys were busy answering the press. Not that she would've cared had the entire male team been in there with her, it was just nice to get a shower alone once in a while.
Letting the hot water run over her body, she felt her right shoulder, not happy with the way it was sore. She wouldn't tell anyone, for fear of having to make an appointment with the athletics physician/therapist, but she thought she pulled the muscle with the home run, and just aggravated it further when she had to rush the ball to second, for the game-winning catch.
Drying herself with a clean towel, Cody dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and sneakers. Taking her hair down, she slipped her sunglasses on, and put a few things in her backpack. Items she always carried, just in case, like a pen, a few extra caps, an extra T-shirt, and something no one else knew was there - a nice-sized knife. She'd had enough run-ins with crazed, drunken, stupid fans in unlit places to feel the need to carry the weapon.
Swinging the pack over her shoulder, and preparing to dodge the bright camera flashes, Cody stepped out into the public once more. Evading the numerous reporters' demands with a cold "No comment", Cody made her way to the street, glad that most of the fans had left already. Even in the year 2017, vulture-like reporters and ecstatic fans hadn't changed; neither had the all-American game of baseball, really.
Instead of going through the main parking lot, Cody went around the back of the stadium, and hailed a passing cab. She'd hitched a ride with Matt to this game, so her vehicle was still twenty-five miles away, at home.
"Hey, aren't you…?" asked the cabdriver, and Cody just glared at him.
"Take me to Garret's Restaurant," she said, quieting the man, who nodded his assent. Garret's was a small, but well known restaurant that Cody went to often when she was at a home game, which wasn't often. At least, it hadn't been, lately. The owner, Garret Wilson, was a close friend, since long before the day she went pro. A friend of her father's, he had quickly befriended the quiet teenager that was Stephen Madison's daughter, and insisted that she keep playing baseball, despite the fact that all players during that time were men.
Three years later, at seventeen, when her father died, Garret was what kept Cody in the game. He became a second father, taking her under his wing since she had no willing relatives, her mother being lost many years before. The man was very kind and understanding, and coached her until the Warriors' scout spotted her years later, and convinced the coach that she was "a real gem".
Two batting-practices and three trial games later, Cody was signed up.
"Here we are," said the driver, and Cody handed the man a twenty, not bothering to wait for her change, thanking him as she climbed out of the cab.
The tall woman entered the restaurant, which also served as a bar, and noticed with irritation that her regular table was occupied by strangers. A small blonde and her younger brother, it seemed, apparently taking advantage of the rule that children were admitted until ten o'clock.
With a heavy sigh, she decided not to tell the duo that they were sitting at her table, and took the nearest empty seat.
Within moments, Garret found her. "Hey, Cody," he greeted, and she stood, giving the graying man a strong hug.
"Hi, Garret," she said. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm doing fine," he said, running an aging hand through his amazingly thick crop of black hair, which was only lightly streaked with gray. "I saw that catch, by the way. Good one, kid. Didn't I tell you that move would come in handy?" he asked, and Cody laughed.
"Yeah, sure did. You were right," she added, sitting back down. "My coach couldn't figure out how I learned to do it."
"So, how are you doing?" Garret asked.
Cody shrugged. "Same shit, different day," she replied, grinning a little when the man set a glass of Coca-Cola in front of her. "Thanks. Say, it's not often you let someone sit at my table. What gives?"
The man glanced up, only then realizing that Cody's table was indeed taken. "Oh, sorry, I didn't notice. Want me to ask them to move?" he offered, but the woman shook her head.
"No, it's okay," she shrugged. "They look comfortable. No biggie."
Garret wanted to sit next to his girl, and get her to talk about what was bothering her, because he knew it was probably somehow connected to her lack of a social life, but he had impatient customers waiting at the bar. "I've got to run before those guys break into my liquor, but stay for a while, can you? We'll talk later," he added, and bustled off to take care of his buyers.
She was taking a sip of her soda, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," said the man, when she glanced back at him, "would you mind signing an autograph for me?"
Cody sighed, and extended her hand, into which the man placed a pen and paper. Signing her name quickly on the napkin, she handed it back to him, and accepted his profuse thanks, until it got on her nerves, and she told him to back off.
As if a neon light had been alighted above her head, saying "Hey, look! Cody Madison is here! Yeah, she's right down here!" a horde of anxious fans surrounded the woman, demanding an autograph on something or another. One man wanted his book signed, another wanted his shirt endorsed, and one woman somehow held her bra out to be autographed, the owner of which received an amused look and a raised eyebrow from the baseball star, who signed it nonetheless.
Garret came to her rescue. "Hey, you guys think an autograph is cool, let me tell you! I've known Cody since she was a teenager. Have I got some stories to tell," he said, and Cody didn't care which ones he told as long as it wasn't the one about her bold questioning of her mother in the supermarket at seven-years-old as to why boys were different than girls. She gave him a grateful look and slipped away, while the crowd was otherwise entertained.
"Mind if I sit here?" asked Cody, upon noticing that, while her table was still occupied by the same two people, they were the only ones in the establishment who seemed uninterested in her fame.
"Sure, have a seat," smiled the young blonde woman. Her green eyes looked friendly, and Cody pulled out the chair, sitting beside the young boy. Cody guessed him to be about four or five, with sandy-colored hair and innocent brown eyes, and he sat in the chair next to the blonde, munching on a few pretzels.
"Trying to escape the crowd, hm?" she asked, and Cody froze. What was that saying? Out of the frying pan, into the fire? What had she gotten herself into?
Mutely, she nodded, and another smile graced the woman's features.
"Yeah, I don't blame you. I don't see what they're all fussing about, anyway. Garret is always telling stories about that Cody girl," she shrugged, and Cody's jaw nearly dropped in surprise. "I don't pay all that much attention, to tell you the truth."
She doesn't know who I am, thought Cody. She figured if she ever met a person who didn't recognize her that she'd feel neglected, but she actually felt pleasantly relieved. Maybe now she could be treated like a person, not some rich star that could not possibly be the same as everyone else.
"Is he? I don't come here very often," she said, regaining her voice, and the woman nodded.
"Yeah, mostly every night we've been here. Jeffrey, sweetheart, don't play with your food," she said, softly talking to the boy, who immediately put the pretzel in his mouth, instead of running it around on the table as he had been, making galloping noises.
"Good boy," she praised, brushing the boy's shaggy hair out of his eyes, and kissing his forehead, at which Jeffrey grinned up at her, lovingly.
Cody took a chance. "Is he your brother?" she asked, and the blonde blushed.
A charming color, Cody thought, and then shook her head of such ideas.
"No, he's my son," she said, and Cody's jaw almost dropped again. The woman looked too young to have a kid, even a toddler! "He's five and a half," she continued.
"You look too young," blurted Cody, and the flush on the woman's cheeks increased at the compliment.
"Well, I'm twenty-five, but thank you," she said. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, suddenly. "Here I've been, chatting with you, and we don't even know each other. I'm Jennie Donavon," she said, extending her hand.
The dreaded introductions, she sighed.
Cody gripped her hand, and said, "Nice to meet you, Jennie." She didn't offer her name, but knew it was too much to hope for, for the woman not to ask.
"And you are…?" she asked, and Cody sighed.
"Cody Madison," she replied, but the blonde only smiled.
"That's a lovely name," Jennie said. "This is Jeffrey. He's my big stuff, aren't you?" The boy nodded, and giggled as his mother tickled him for a moment. She glanced at her watch, and her green eyes widened. "It's been very nice talking with you, Cody, but we've got to be going; my parents are expecting me. Maybe I'll see you around again sometime," she said, wiping Jeffrey's mouth of crumbs as she spoke.
"I'd like that," Cody heard herself say, and then looked away.
"So would I. Bye," she said, picking her son up as she walked to the door, waving to the tall woman before she left. Cody returned her wave, and ordered another soda, feeling much better than she had a half hour ago.
Upon catching the tail end of Garret's story, she groaned and tried desperately to crawl under the table, as the laughter echoed from the man's finish of, "So, at the top of her lungs in the middle of the checkout line, Cody asks, 'But, mom, why do boys have penises?'"