A Flawed Diamond
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2013 by Jay Cantrell

Drama Sex Story: Chapter 2 - It’s been six years since Brock Miller and his friends left his adopted hometown. The angry boy has become a young adult, and life has taken him in a direction that none of them could have foreseen. But the scars from his troubled teens are deep – maybe too deep to allow him to find the most elusive of goals: a place to call home. [Sequel to "The Outsider."]

Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Romantic   BiSexual   Sports   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Slow   Violence  

When the blizzard finally abated, Brock packaged Chastity up in his four-wheel drive vehicle to make the trek to her mother's home. Marilyn was not impressed by his chivalry.

Her demeanor was frostier than an iced-over Lake Erie when Chastity told her mother that she was only there to pack some things before she headed back to Brock's house.

"I'll be damned if you're going to live with this guy," her mother screamed.

"Well, I'll guess you'll just be damned then," Chastity said as she headed down the hallway. Brock stood in the kitchen doorway while Marilyn Durant glared at him.

"I know all about you," she said icily. "I don't know what crap you've been feeding my daughter but I know all about your type of guy."

Brock took a deep breath.

"Really, mother," Chastity said as she re-entered the kitchen. "Tell me exactly what you know about Brock's type of guy. I'm interested in how you might know because you've been so interested in running my life for the last 15 years that you haven't had time for one of your own. I'm leaving, mother. If had any other options, I never would have come back here. Now I have other options, so I'm gone. Whether I return is entirely up to you.

"I suggest you let me live my life and you take a bit of time to develop one of your own."

She handed Brock her suitcase.

"You're the pack mule," she said. "I'll carry things to here. You carry them out to the car."

Brock grimaced.

"You're supposed to say, 'Yes, dear'," Chastity said. She pinched his butt when he turned around to do as she bid.

By the time Brock returned up the slippery sidewalk to the Durant household, Marilyn had moved on to another tack.

She was no longer fuming, instead she was crying noisily with her head on the table. She looked up when Brock entered.

"You never would have treated your mother this way," she said sadly.

"True," Brock said. The first word he had uttered since he entered. "But, then again, my mother never would have treated me this way either."

"She doesn't appreciate all I did for her," Marilyn wailed as though Brock hadn't spoken. "All I gave up for her to have what she wanted."

Brock thought he should stay out of the mess but he spoke anyway.

"What she wanted?" he asked. "Or what you wanted? Perhaps it's a difference of perspective. Perhaps you gave her what you thought she wanted. We've been snowbound for three days now. I've spent a lot of time listening to Chas. I don't think she has even figured out what she wants. I wonder how you can know."

"A mother knows," Marilyn said fiercely. "A mother knows what's best for her child."

"But she's an adult," Brock said reasonably. "A mother also knows when it's time to let her children make their own decisions. That's all she is asking for. Honestly, I'm probably no crazier about her living at my apartment than you are. I'm a pretty private person and I don't know her that well.

"But, she has decided that she is not living here any longer. So I don't know what other option I had than to offer her a place to stay. You should know that a place to stay is all it is. We're not dating. We're not sleeping together. We're not getting married.

"Please consider something for me. Chastity's soccer career could be over tomorrow. She could slip on the ice and blow out a knee or she could bump into the wall on the way to the bathroom and break her foot. How prepared is she for life after soccer? How prepared are you for her life after soccer? Do you expect her to live in her teenaged bedroom until she's 50? Why in God's name would you want her to?"

Marilyn was looking at Brock carefully.

"How prepared are you to live life after baseball?" she asked quickly.

"Very," he replied confidently. "I have a degree in information technology from one of the finest universities in the U.S. I also have a considerable sum of money invested and banked. Chastity plays a non-lucrative sport. I'll make as much in my first season as she will in her entire career. It's not fair, but it's still fact."

Marilyn's baleful glare had lessened.

"You're not what I expected," she said.

"Unfortunately, you're exactly what I was told you would be," Brock rejoined.

The remainder of the move was completed wordlessly with Marilyn sulking in her room.

"I'll call you Sunday, Mom," Chastity said. Marilyn didn't respond.


"What the hell did you say to her?" Chastity asked. "I mean, she was bawling like a baby telling me how I didn't love her. The next thing I knew, she was standing in my doorway looking at me like I was a stranger. Then she disappeared into her room. It was freaky. Mom is not a shrinking violet."

"I asked her if her sacrifices were for your benefit or hers," Brock said. He was ashamed at some of the things he had said to a woman he didn't know.

"You did not," Chastity exclaimed. "Oh, my God!"

Brock couldn't tell if she was angry because he dared not take his eyes off the road long enough to see her face.

"That must have been so awesome," she said. "Do you know how many times I've wanted to ask her that? But I get around her and she just fucking steamrolls me. That's why you had to come in with me. I couldn't lose face in front of you by giving in."

"I honestly think she means well," Brock said. "I just don't think she took the time to figure out that you're not the 12-year-old girl you used to be. Obviously, I didn't know that girl but I've watched a similar transformation in some of my friends. When I think back to the way they were when they were 15 or 16 and I see how they act now that they're 22 or 23, it's astounding. My friend, Jen, the blonde with the freckles in the photos, is a prime example. If you met her now, you'd see a self-assured, thoughtful young woman. If you met her five or six years ago, you would probably hate her guts."

"I tried on numerous occasions to extricate myself from her and her family," Brock continued. "She would never allow it. Her mom was a pain in my ass from the get-go and Jen followed suit not long after. Now she's probably my best friend. There is a story behind all the people I'm close to but they all share one common thing: I never wanted to be close to any of them."

Chastity was watching Brock closely as he spoke.

"I got some of that from what I read," she said. "I hope you'll read that story I downloaded about you. I would be interested in hearing how much of it is true."

"I glanced at the first couple of chapters," Brock replied. "It's factual but incomplete. I mean, almost everything in there could be gleaned from public records – or they could have been done that way when I first got to Corbly."

"Have you heard from Meredith again?"

Brock glanced over.

"No," he replied.

"In the pictures, which one is she?"

"She's not in the pictures," he said. "I have some of her but they are for me alone. It's funny. Leslie, Jen's mom, was dead set against her dating me. She told me that a girl's first boyfriend plays a significant part in the way she views herself. She was wrong about that, I think. But a guy's first love plays a serious role in how he views women."

"So Meredith was your first love?"

"I think so," Brock answered. "Maybe not. It was all so quick. It began without warning and it ended just as suddenly. I've never really had a girlfriend. Well, not in the last eight or nine years."

"Explain that."

"Nothing to explain," Brock said. "The Fearsome Foursome all went to colleges near me for a while. I dated each of them periodically but never seriously."

"Fuck buddies," Chastity said with a smirk.

"Not really," Brock answered, ignoring the look on her face. "Don't get me wrong, I love each of them in her own way."

"Even Susan?"

"Especially Susan," Brock said. "She's probably the one I'm closest to being in romantic love with. The only thing that holds us back is that whole 'me going to prison' thing."

Chastity laughed along with Brock.

"I can see where that would create some trust issues," she said.

"We tried for a while," he continued, "but I just couldn't get past that. And she couldn't get past the fact I couldn't get past it. The truth is that I've known her since we were kids. She's almost like a little sister and it was just too weird. She transferred back out West after two years."

"About the time Melanie met her husband?"

"Ex-husband," Brock said. "Yeah, things were a little crazy that summer. Mel met Doug and decided to settle down. She had one more year of law school so they went ahead and got married. They divorced before the year was out. Suzy got fed up with the emotional distance between us and decided physical distance worked better so she transferred. Tara started dating one of her former professors. Her mom about had a shit fit. And Jen was still waiting patiently for me to fall in love with her."

"Did she really wait on your porch the evening of your first date with Meredith and leave you her panties for a keepsake?"

Brock's head shot up.

"How in the hell did you know that?" he asked.

"It's in the book," Chastity said, stunned by the vehemence in his voice. "There are a lot of details like that in there."

"Who wrote the thing?" Brock asked quickly. To his knowledge only three people knew of the whole tale: him, Jen and Merie.

"I don't know," she said. "It's a pen name, I'm sure. It sounded fake. We'll look when we get back."

Brock was sure Jen would never write something like that without mentioning it. But he wasn't sure what Merie would do. He had never been completely sure what Meredith might do from one moment to the next.


Brock and Chastity settled into a happy co-existence. They got along well and it wasn't a week later before they started going out on dates. The newspaper had a field day with it. Chastity's beauty and athletic ability and Brock's willingness to donate time and money to worthwhile causes had made them favorites of the city's elite.

The duo never got around to purchasing a bed for the spare room. After five or six days of Brock sleeping on the couch, Chastity invited him to share the bed with her. As Spring Training approached, Brock started dreading a return to his career. Chastity felt the same way.

But they both knew that a commitment was not possible. Even though each would spend six weeks training in Florida, their schedules were wholly different. The only time they would be in the same city during the regular season was in late August – assuming Brock made the major league roster. Each would be in Chicago but their games were scheduled at the same time.

The night before he was scheduled to fly to Florida Brock almost said the words he'd rarely said to a woman. He was certain that he was in love with Chastity Durant.


They were lying in bed that Saturday evening. Chastity was taking a short nap and Brock was watching her sleep. Her face was so relaxed and even in slumber she had a slightly mischievous smile on her face. She was so beautiful she took his breath away.

After a few minutes, Chastity opened her eyes and smiled at him – and he almost told her he loved her. But the words caught in his throat.

"I'm going to miss you," he said instead.

Similar thoughts were racing through Chastity's mind. She wanted to stay a couple despite their hectic schedules. She had never felt the emotions that raced through her mind whenever Brock Miller smiled at her.

Rather than tell him that she wanted to stay together – that she wanted to build a relationship on the foundation she was sure they had established – she touch his cheek softly.

"Make sure you get a decent place to live in Cleveland," she said. "I'll need a place to go if I get dropped from the national team."

As Chastity waited for him to board his flight to Florida Brock decided she needed to know.

"I love you," he said as he kissed her cheek.

"I love you," she replied with a smile. "I'll call you every chance I get..."

Their conversation died when Brock's cell phone rang.

He had been traded to a new team – a team that practically guaranteed him the starting shortstop job. Rather than spend the next six weeks in Florida, he would be in Arizona. If he made the Major Leagues, it wouldn't be in Cleveland but 3,000 miles away.

Brock Miller was heading to Los Angeles. He would be suiting up for the Dodgers in a stadium less than 100 miles from where he grew up – and less than 100 miles from the place he had never wanted to be near again.


The next two days were a blur for Brock. He flew to L.A. and went through a battery of tests on almost every portion of his body. The Dodgers were giving up a top-line pitcher for him and another prospect so they were unwilling to get short-changed if one or other weren't in top physical condition.

Brock was far from being fit but he was healthy. He and Chas had worked out almost daily during the past two months but each had focused on cardio instead of muscle mass.

True to her word, though, Chastity had spent an hour or two each day tossing the ball around with Brock to keep him loose or hitting beside him in a batting cage. She had even hit sharp ground balls to him off the gym floor a time or two.

Brock, for his part, had played soccer with Chas. Well, that is probably too generous. Soccer is a pretty skill-specific sport and Brock clearly lacked those skills. But his presence was what Chastity wanted more than anything else.

She had asked Brock to play a rough style – reminiscent of some of the less-skilled teams – during their workouts. He was free to use his size to offset her skill advantage. That was something he could do. He was careful not to be too rough but he pushed her and jostled her and used his strength to try to move her off the ball as she advanced.

She said she found the effort worthwhile but Brock wasn't sure how she could. Still, the pair laughed and joked with the other throughout the workouts.

Marilyn Durant had taken the separation from her daughter with less drama than Brock expected. The fact that Chastity was still working on her soccer skills and still called her mother or visited a couple times a week seemed to help.

Marilyn was not a fan of the burgeoning relationship but that had less to do with Brock's presence than with the presence of anyone else in Chastity's life. But as late January approached, Marilyn seemed to understand that Brock wasn't going away until Chastity asked him to – and that he would go away if Chastity did ask him to.

Having Chastity in Florida with the national team while he adjusted to a new team was difficult for Brock. In just a couple of months, he had come to rely on her as a sounding board on a litany of subjects.

Jen was displeased about her lessened role in his life but she understood Brock's need to have someone there. She had worried for years about the amount of time he spent by himself. Tara, Mel and Susan had already assumed a smaller part in Brock's world.

It wasn't on purpose but each of them had grown into their own lives. They still were friends but they weren't as close as they were only two years before. It was part of growing up and each of them accepted it.

Jen was finishing work on her master's degree in applied mathematics at Georgia Tech in Atlanta. She had high hopes of getting a doctorate afterward. Brock was certain that she would. Her dogged pursuit of learning was reminiscent of her dogged pursuit of him so many years before.

Susan was particularly happy about Brock moving back to California, even if he would be 120 miles away. She was living in San Diego where she was working for a child advocacy group. She was guaranteed to see Brock numerous times during his forays to play the Padres.

Brock cautioned her that his visits would be predicated upon him making the roster. Despite the fact there was little competition in camp, he knew the Dodgers had the financial means to secure another player just as they had secured his services.

Susan had faith in Brock's abilities, though, so she didn't worry much.

Mel had found she enjoyed the slower pace of southern life and had settled down near Nashville, where she practiced criminal law. She and Brock saw each other only once or twice a year – usually at Thanksgiving when the entire extended families got together at either Leslie's or Erin's house.

Tara was a television personality at a small station in Indiana but Brock had expectations that she would work her way up quickly. Her personality had undergone a complete transformation from the self-centered, arrogant girl he knew from Wilkins. If Brock was honest with himself, the transformation had already started by the time Tara and Erin arrived in Corbly.

Now, Tara Wyatt was as selfless and caring as any person Brock knew. She was perhaps the most physically beautiful woman he had ever known but instead of the arrogance and sense of entitlement that often came with beauty, Tara had grace, charm and wit in their place.

It would be a devastating combination for whatever major-market TV station ponied up to land her in the future.

Leslie had returned to California after the kids got settled in North Carolina. She finally had cut the apron strings and let her children grow up. It was hard for her but Brock was proud of the way she handled their successes and their failures.

She had met and married a dentist two years before but she still acted as "Scout Mom" to the entire pack.

Erin seemed content to be a teacher and live the life of a single woman in the prime of her life. Of all the group who had been his friends in Corbly, Erin was the one he kept in touch with least. Almost all his news of her was second-hand, from either Leslie or Tara.

Sam and Jean Van Landingham could not reconcile their differences about Meredith and Leah. Their divorce was amicable but their lives afterward were often acrimonious. Sam's unassuming style disappeared for a few years and eventually he had broken ties with almost anything that reminded him of that awful December day.

Brock was disappointed that he was one of the people Sam had frozen out. But he understood the reason for it best of anyone. He always made sure to drop Sam an e-mail with his new address and cell phone number any time they changed. He wanted to make sure Sam knew that he was welcome in Brock's life when – or if – he wanted to return. Other than that, he left Sam to his solitude.

Every few months, Brock would Google Meredith's name to see if there was anything new. For the last couple of years, there hadn't been – at least nothing newsworthy. He knew that she stayed in the hospital for almost 14 months and she, too, had refused contact when Jen and the others had sought to check on her.

Brock figured that she would find him when she was ready – just as she promised. He was equally sure that someone – be it Sam or Leslie – would let him know if something happened to her. It was the best he could do.


As Brock focused on learning the names of his teammates, Chastity was becoming more and more disenchanted with being a full-time, poorly paid soccer player. Mostly, she was disenchanted by the prospect of spending 10 months away from Brock.

With his trade, even the prospect of having lunch together in Chicago was gone. Brock would be in Atlanta that night. Their time together in the winter would be shortened further by the impending women's World Cup which started the following March in Chile.

The national team had "friendly matches" scheduled periodically throughout the year and would travel to Chile in early February to acclimate themselves to the climate and play a series of friendlies against other non-competitive Cup qualifiers.

Chastity began to wonder if she would ever have control of her life.

Brock's agent rented the house that was owned by the pitcher the Dodgers sent to Cleveland in the trade. At least Brock didn't have to worry about renting an apartment this time around if he made the Dodgers roster. He also didn't have to worry about paying exorbitant prices for real estate in the southern California market.

He struggled for the first few weeks of Spring Training as he tried to put his life into some sort of order. Brock was more about well-planned change than picking up stakes and moving on the spur-of-the-moment.

He didn't mind the change in scenery – as his moves to Corbly and then to North Carolina indicated. But he liked to be the one who set the wheels in motion and to be the one who plotted out the details of the move.

To be traded a day before Spring Training started – and after his bags had already been loaded on a plane to Florida – upset his well-balanced schedule. It took him a week or two to get used to a new way of doing things.

Cleveland's franchise was built the way most small-market contenders are – a strong minor league system producing quality young players to mix in with a few veterans. Invariably, the Tribe could not afford to keep the players who developed into stars, so they would trade them in the final year of their contract to restock the minor leagues.

But Cleveland was on the cusp of contending for a World Series so they pulled the trigger on the trade that sent Brock to the Dodgers. A cadre of front-line pitching was the key to success in baseball. A player like the one the Dodgers gave up was worth more in the grand scheme of things than a good-hitting shortstop.

But the Dodgers had more young pitchers in the pipeline and a glaring hole in the middle of the infield. The pressure on Brock was tremendous. In Cleveland, which already had a franchise shortstop, he would have been a part-time player who would be groomed slowly to take over the position.

In Los Angeles, he was the guy the Dodgers gave up a potential Cy Young-winning pitcher to acquire. He was the lynchpin to lead the Dodgers far into the playoffs. Or at least the fans expected him to be.

But his bat was dormant and his glove erratic. He looked nothing like the player he had proven to be at Duke and in the minor leagues. It was a blow to his confidence and he had no friends on the team or any real relationship with the coaching staff to help him through this troubles.

It looked like Brock was facing another season in Class AAA – this time in Las Vegas instead of Columbus, Ohio. The Indians had cut ties with Buffalo after almost two decades and now had their top-flight minor league team just down Interstate 71, just as the Dodgers had moved their Spring Training complex from Vero Beach, Fla., to Glendale, Ariz.

Through it all, he would talk to Chastity once or twice a day. She would do her best to bolster his spirits with a funny tale of how her day went or story from her childhood.

Brock always felt better after the chats.

Surprisingly, it wasn't the coaching staff who found what troubled Brock's performance. It was his newfound girlfriend.

"I'm e-mailing you some stuff," she told him. "Watch the videos and tell me what you see."

"You making vids for me now?" Brock joked. "You better be nice to me or I'll sell them on the Internet."

"Ha-ha," Chas deadpanned. "Just watch them and call me back."

Brock did and was amazed at what he saw. Chastity had somehow compiled a dozen different clips of him playing in Buffalo and three at-bats in a spring training game that was televised the week before.

He called her back after watching them.

"OK," he told her. "I see me playing baseball. I do that a lot you know."

"Watch your hands, numbskull," she joked. "You drop your hands now as the pitcher delivers. It's slowing your swing."

"Christ, Chas," Brock stated. "If I don't drop my hands, there is no way I can get around on these guys. These guys throw hard."

"I know but you can't pull everything," she told him. "One of the other players – Jill Tedrow – is married to a former minor leaguer. He's coaching at a JC down here. I asked him to help me out. This is what he found. He says to keep your hands up and go inside-out if you have to. Wait, let me check my notes, I'm not sure I got that right."

"You got it right," Brock assured her. "I'm not sure I can do it, but I can try. It's a whole new approach for me. I'm used to pulling the ball and using the power-alley in left field. I'm not used to using the whole field."

"How hard will it be to change?" Chastity asked.

"About as easy as you switching to sweeper," Brock replied. "It's a whole different concept – a different way of viewing things. Did he mention anything about why I can't seem to catch the ball anymore?"

"That one I realized," Chastity replied proudly. "You're moving before the ball is hit. You've never done that before. I mean you might shift position a little if you know the pitch is going to a particular location. But now you look antsy out there. You keep moving around and when the ball is hit, you're sometimes in the wrong position."

Brock was silent.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I do the same thing when we play a new team – one I'm not familiar with. I tend to run all over the field and I find myself out of position. Things will calm down. Just relax."

"It's hard to relax," Brock noted. "Things are way faster up here. The players, the hits, the pitches, they're all moving a lot faster than what I'm used to. I feel like I'm a step or two behind everything. The more I struggle to catch up, the farther behind I fall."

"It's a natural feeling," Chastity assured him. "Brock, I'm pretty sure you've always been good at things you've tried. You told me about the resentment of some of your teammates in college. I know the feeling. But this time, you're going to have to work for it and you're going to have to be willing to alter the way you do things."

Brock pondered the advice.

"I'm just happy that I can give you some help," Chas said while Brock was thinking. "So far it's always been you who stepped up for me – with my mom, with my living situation, with my workouts. We make a good team, Brock."

Brock smiled for what seemed like the first time in days.

"We do at that," he said. "Hey, I checked my schedule. I'm going to get the chance to watch your matches against Spain and Greece on TV. We have Saturday night games those days."

"At least it's something," she said. "I wish I could see you. I really miss you."

"I miss you, too," Brock confirmed. "Probably more than I've missed a woman in my life."

Brock heard a sigh from the other end of the line.

"I don't know how some of these people do it," she stated. "I mean, it's like they live separate lives from their families. We have three women who have children. They take off from their families for 10 months out of the year. They leave their husbands and their boyfriends and their kids to traipse all over the world kicking a ball."

"It's the same here," Brock said. "Some of my teammates are just like yours. Their wives and girlfriends might be here but some aren't. Some of them live completely separate during the season. They spend October through January in one world; February through September in another."

"Are we ready for that?" Chastity wondered. "We've only been together for a couple of months. I've never met someone I felt so close to."

She was silent for a minute.

"I've never met someone that I would consider giving up soccer for," Chastity continued, "at least, until I met you. Now we're looking at almost three-quarters of our year away from each other. Even when things settle down for you, mine will keep going. We have a full year planned now with the Cup coming up."

"I know," Brock said. "I read about it in Sports Weekly. It is what it is, hon. I'm no fonder of it that you are. But I don't think either of us is ready to walk away from this portion of our lives."

"No," Chastity confirmed. "Not yet anyway. I just want things to be able to go back next year to where they were this year. I'm not sure of the future, Brock, and that bothers me. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm ready to make choices for myself. But I'm not in a position to make them. I worry that the decisions I pass up now will haunt me when I finally have a real opportunity to decide my plans."

"I'm not sure I follow," Brock said.

"I worry that what I feel now will change," Chastity said with chagrin. "I worry that what you feel will change."

Much the same thing had concerned Brock.

"I know," he replied. "I don't have a good track record, Chas. You know that. But I don't want to lose what we have."

"And I don't want to stand still," Chastity said. "I want to move forward with what we have."

"I feel the same way," he told her. "And, in a way, we are. We're similar but we're two different people. There are always going to be parts of our lives that we keep to ourselves."

Chastity was silent.

"I just wish we could have been together longer," she said sadly. "I wish we had more time to build a life before we had to be apart."

Brock chuckled.

"Well, from what I've read you're not going to be dropped from the national team any time soon," he said. "I might be in Las Vegas. Maybe I'll be so crappy they'll send me to Jacksonville."

"Don't talk that way," Chas said. "You'll be in Los Angeles in April. You're going to take extra BP for the next week. Talk to your hitting coach and get it straight. You're going to start playing like you're capable of playing and you'll be in L.A. for the year."

Brock could only hope Chas was right.

Edited by BlackIrish; Proofread by ZoltanTheDuck.

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