Page 62 of The Strike Zone

I took a deep breath, willing my racing heart to calm so I could at the very least give the impression of being cool. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“Then why?”

“Because you’re a good catcher, you’re good for this club, and you’re going to go far in baseball.”

My brows dropped so quickly a bolt of pain shot me right between the eyes. I rubbed against my forehead. “Seriously, what are you doing, Reeves?”

“Marnie told me about the VO2 max test and how you nearly killed yourself to impress this girl. We kind of need you on the team, so I’m helping you out.”

“By giving me her number?”

“Exactly.” He held the paper out to me again, this time allowing me to take it.

I still wasn’t 100 percent certain that I’d open it to find a cell number, but sure enough scrawled inside were ten digits, with Scout’s name above them. And this crumpled-up piece of paper became the most precious thing I owned.

“Thanks, man, I really appreciate it,” I said as he stood up to leave. “I apologize for calling you a massive dick.”

“You didn’t call me a massive dick.”

My gaze flicked to his, though it didn’t quite meet his eye, instead offering a wry smile. “Oh, didn’t I?”

He walked off with a head shake, mumbling something I didn’t catch.

I glanced back down at the number—Scout’s number—before folding it up and slipping it carefully into my pocket for safekeeping.

For the rest of the game, we were untouchable.Iwas untouchable. Ace and I took the Marlins out fastball after fastball. I hit two home runs. The final score was Lions: 8, Marlins: 2.

Once the final play was done, I sprinted off the field before anyone could catch me, heading straight to the locker room. Ignoring coach, ignoring reporters waiting for a quote, ignoring everything. They could all wait until I’d completed this one task.

Yanking my locker open so hard I nearly pulled it from its hinges, I grabbed my phone.

Parker: Hey, Davison, how about we try for coffee again in the morning? No douches invited. Same time, same place?

SIXTEEN

SCOUT

Parker: Get ready for the hella sexy game day fit I’m rocking.

Scout: I’ll be the judge of that.

Parker: I’m counting on it…

Ibit down the smile and focused back on the task at hand. Namely repeating myself to Joey and Cyrus about what we were doing right now, but given it was eleven p.m. and probably way past their bedtime, it wasn’t sinking in quite as quickly as I hoped.

“The guys come out of those doors.” I pointed to the entranceway leading into the loading bay under Lions Stadium, where three large buses were waiting to take the guys off to the airport. Tonight they were flying out of New York and down to Dallas for an away series against the Texas Rangers. “They have to come down the ramp, then they walk around the front of the bus.”

“Where’d you want the cameras set up?”

“One straight on, and one at forty-five degrees coming down the ramp.” I turned to Cyrus who was still looking kind of confused. I was putting it down to the fact it was way past his bedtime. “Fans like the action shots. Plus, some of the guys jog down the ramp, and the girls go wild for those, especially when we put it in slo-mo.”

“How ’bout we each man one. Set them up on a tripod?”

I nodded to Cyrus, holding in a yawn of my own. “Yeah, and I’ll stay up at the front to make sure the guys come down with a little separation between them.”

“Why are we doing this again? When they’re all going to be wearing the same thing,” asked Joey for the dozenth time.

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