The Closer by Alan Mindell

Even in the minimal light, he could tell she was quite pretty, with smooth dark skin and pleasant eyes that seemed unusually bright.
    From the passenger side, using the keys Murdoch had given him, he unlocked all four car doors and she got into the front. Walking around to the driver’s side, he spotted Murdoch, still in disguise, coming toward them. As Terry entered the front, Murdoch slipped into the back.
    â€œYou said you were alone,” the girl told Terry, accusingly.
    Before he could reply, he noticed Murdoch take off his chauffeur’s cap.
    â€œDad!” the girl exclaimed.
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    Before the following night’s game in Los Angeles, Murdoch announced, through the team’s Media Relations Director, that he would be declining the league’s invitation to be Oakland’s sole representative in this year’s All Star Classic, less than two weeks away.
    Media reaction was swift and intense. They claimed this was just one more example of Murdoch’s arrogance and selfishness, his utter and complete disregard for the sport which supported him so handsomely. They pointed out that Murdoch hadn’t missed a regular season game in over two years. For him to reject the All Star Classic could only be interpreted as a slap in the face to everyone involved in baseball, fans and players alike. Some even mentioned Murdoch’s pursuit of Joe DiMaggio’s record and how deleterious to the sport it would be if he broke it.
    Murdoch, as he had done without exception in recent years, ignored all requests for interviews or a media conference.
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    â€œI think Murdoch found what he was looking for,” Terry said to Rick.
    â€œWhat?”
    As the two of them sat off by themselves in the Los Angeles airport, waiting to board the team’s flight back to Oakland, Terry told him about the events two nights ago. How he and Murdoch had driven to Hollywood. How they’d found Murdoch’s daughter, Carly. How he’d then driven them to a different hotel than the team’s. How he’d helped rent them a two bedroom suite there, for the duration of the series. How he’d gotten them reservations on a flight to Oakland, separate from the team’s.
    â€œThat why he’s not playing in the All Star Classic?” Rick inquired.
    Terry looked at him questioningly.
    â€œHis daughter,” Rick clarified.
    â€œI don’t know. He didn’t say.”
    â€œBrass isn’t happy about his declining the Classic.”
    Terry didn’t reply.
    â€œSo,” Rick went on, not looking too happy himself, “he finishes one big drama, then creates another.”

Chapter Fourteen
    â€œI don’t need a babysitter,” Carly told Murdoch as they sat on the couch in the living room of her new apartment, just down the hall from his.
    â€œFor sure,” he responded.
    â€œI won’t be a prisoner, either.”
    â€œFor sure,” he repeated.
    â€œYou standing over me like I’m a little child.”
    â€œI’m not standing over you. Why you think I got you your own place?”
    When she didn’t answer right away, Murdoch glanced around the room. He was satisfied with the job management of the apartment complex had done. Furnishing it in soft pinks and yellows, rather than the dark colors dominating his place. They had even provided her a replica of the large yellowish-orange stuffed toy tiger that had been her constant companion when she was very young.
    They’d accomplished this all on short notice. He had called them from Los Angeles yesterday morning and Carly moved in last night. All he had to do was sign the rental agreement and, of course, hand over his check, both of which he’d done earlier this evening.
    â€œI think we need to face facts,” she said sharply.
    â€œWhat facts?”
    â€œI got a little problem.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI think you know what.”
    â€œDrugs?”
    Though she didn’t reply,