Page 7 of The Catcher

“Then I quit,” I replied, my heart beginning to beat faster.

“You can’t quit,” he said. “Your job isn’t done until I get some good PR.”

“I can quit whenever I want,” I said, my voice low.

He stared at me, like what I just said and what I wanted hadn’t mattered at all.

“You can’t quit until I tell you you’re done.”

He glared at me, big arms crossed over his chest. He was leaning back arrogantly against the window, his big legs spread wide.

I waited to see what he’d decided.

I felt a shiver of something go through my body as I saw those big legs spread open. I hoped he’d refuse, say no.

Because then I could avoid facing the fact that there might be something sick and stupid threading through the fear that pulsed through my body when he looked at me.

But he said, “Fine. Butyouwill film the PSAs.Youwill deal with the donations.Youwill talk to the reporters.Youwill get my sponsorships back.”

I hesitated. The last thing I wanted wasmoretime with Tanner.

But when I saw everyone’s faces looking curiously at me, I knew I was trapped.

“It’s a deal,” I said.

He jerked his head, keeping his eyes on me.

“Everyone else out,” he said. “I’ll film my first PSA now.”

He held out his phone so I could film him, and I reluctantly reached for it. His hand was big, and it felt strangely frightening even for my fingers to brush his, like he could crush me if he exerted the smallest pressure.

“She gets to gowherevershe wants,” said Lou, pointing at me. “Anywhere. Her job is to do PR for Tanner. We need the media and fans off our backs so we can focus. Here’s the ranking of how important everyone is. Here’s me,” and here he raised his arm high in the air. “Here’s you all,” and here he lowered his hand as low as his knees could go, spitting for emphasis. “And here’s Ms. Finnegan,” and here he put his hand directly underneath where his own had been.

I wanted to smile at the touching faith he had in me, but also groan. Tanner taken barely any of my suggestions except for donating some money and a few Instagram PSAs about how steroids were bad. It was going to take a lot more than that to change his reputation and make people forget about the juicing.

Getting to go wherever I wanted meant I was allowed on the field for warmups, and at the beginning of my second week I did an on-field interview in my navy-blue pantsuit with the little white bow in my blouse.

Mr. Courtenay just wanted to focus on baseball. Mr. Courtenay was looking forward to getting back to his regular rotation of charitable volunteering. Mr. Courtenay was thrilled to be with the Phoenixes this year, and hoped for many more years here in this vibrant and beautiful city.

God, I was getting sick of wearing pantsuits and hose, I thought, pulling my long braid off my neck as the humidity from the vibrant and beautiful city clung to my neck in the August heat.

One of the Matts wandered by and handed me a ball and a glove. “Here, see what it’s all about,” he said with a roguish Matt smile. I hesitated. I was angry at myself, but I flicked a glanceover at Tanner to see what he’d say. I shivered as I realized he was already looking at me, his catcher’s face mask in his hand.

Matt began to toss the ball lightly to me.

I fumbled with my mitt and miraculously managed to catch the first throw.

“Nice work,” Matt said, his eyes lingering appreciatively on my legs. “Now throw it back,” he added, smiling and modeling the correct form for me. When I did my best to mimic his throw, he grinned and reached his hand out for a high five.

“Good throw,” he said. “You’re a natural.”

I thought I could still feel Tanner’s eyes on me.

“No civilians allowed on the field,” he called out abruptly.

“She’s not a civilian,” Matt said. “She’s staff now.”

“I want to catch,” Tanner snapped back, jerking his face mask on. “Get thefuckoff the field, Emrys.”

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