Page 70 of The Strike Zone

Cursing again, this time for not moving my travel bags, which I’d dropped by my feet the second I’d arrived, I stepped over them and walked around his side of the desk.

Peering over his shoulder, he pressed Play on the content they’d filmed earlier this week.

I hadn’t seen it in full, I hadn’t been there when the guys shot it. It was the segment they’d thought up before the season started—the mom stylewhat’s in your bag.

We’d been waiting until the team was fresh off a series win, and as luck would have it, the away trip to Dallas, followed by Cincinnati, achieved just that, so the second morning back we set it up outside and let them know.

It was the first segment the guys had managed totally by themselves.

While they’d been on the trips without me, there’d always been someone else to oversee or step in and answer any questions. But the team was now familiar with their faces, and rapport was building. They could do it alone.

“How long is this?”

“Ninety seconds.”

First up was Saint Velasquez, the giant right field, sauntering up as only he did, wearing a pair of exceptionally bright flowery board shorts, flip-flops, and a white tee. Give him a surfboard and you’d never know he was one of the best fielders in the league. I liked him a lot, he was always happy and smiley, and when I’d manned the content shoots all last year, he’d helped with every single one.

More unusual than it sounds, because some of the guys just wanted to get into the stadium and walked straight past with only a nod hello.

I watched as he stopped at the table, opened his bag, and pulled out a massive bunch of bananas, a bag of sunflower seeds, a protein shake, and a toiletry bag filled with more products than I’d seen in Sephora.

“Wow.” I chuckled.

Boomer Jones followed with nothing more interesting than a towel and a PlayStation remote.

Jupiter Reeves walked straight past without anything in his hands; Sawyer James, our second base, carried a bag of protein powder and a sweater he’d picked up from the dry cleaner on his way in.

The rookies produced better results; on being asked the question, one of them turned bright red and opened his bag to reveal a pair of girl’s underwear, which resulted in a lot of jeering from the two guys he’d arrived with.

The moment Parker appeared on the screen, my stomach flipped, and I forced my entire body to still just in case it did something stupid like leap into the air with a loud cheer. Ace was next to him, both of them stopping at the table and dropping their bags onto it with a thud.

Joey turned around and glanced at me. “This is a great one.”

In sync, the pair of them opened up their bags, and the camera zoomed in. If I didn’t know they worked at Lions Stadium, or played for the club, I could believe they’d committed a store robbery. Ace lifted his out first.

“Did you guys know that the Lions store now has to-go cups for each player? They just came in this week.” He beamed into the camera, holding up one of the cups. If he decided to leave baseball he could easily slide into a career on QVC.

I didn’t need to see inside Parker’s bag to know he was about to show everyone his to-go cup. The exact same one currently sitting on my desk.

“Are there any left in the store?” Cyrus laughed from behind the camera.

“Sure are, but get there early. And I have a dozen to give away on my Instagram, plus enough for all my favorite people to have one. All coffee deserves to have a good cup, even disgusting coffee.”

“Oh, Jesus,” I mumbled, my eyes rolling to the skies.

“What?” asked Joey.

“Nothing.”

After Parker and Ace, came a couple of the coaches and PTs who had nothing interesting, followed by Riley Rivers, Robson Barry, and Lux Weston, none of whom had bags but emptied their pockets to reveal car keys, a phone, an assortment of gum, and headphones.

Last up was Tanner Simpson, who sprinted through the entrance without so much as an acknowledgment.

“Good work, it’s a bit long though, so trim it to sixty seconds. Keep Tanner Simpson but cut the first two rookies and Sawyer James. You need to cut those panties.”

I should have predicted the objection.

“No way. People will love them.”

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