Page 45 of Tagging Bases

I drag my eyes away from him as laughter fills the air near the entrance. My parents are now greeting everyone who comes in as if they’ve known them all for years when, in reality, they all hate each other. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard my parents bitching about people or cackling with glee when someone ends up in prison for some “heinous crime.” And by “heinous,” I mean tax evasion or money laundering. Stuff that they all do.

I finish off my water before biting the bullet and walking over to my parents. Not Harrison.

“Daniel, darling!” my mother exclaims loud enough for half the room to hear. “You made it!”

She pulls me in for a hug that I happily give. Even though I might not love what they do at times, she’s still my mother. When she releases me, I nod at my father.

“Dad.” I extend my hand, and he shakes it once. His grip is so tight that it crushes every bone.

“Son,” he replies gruffly. “Glad youcould join us.”

My mother loops her arm through mine and steers me toward a well-dressed couple nearby.

The woman is tall and slender, with blonde curly hair and a string of pearls around her neck. The man is shorter and balding, and his round belly threatens to rip his tuxedo jacket in half.

“Susan, Bill,” my mother trills. “I want you to meet my son, Daniel.”

Susan’s eyes widen in recognition. “Daniel! We’ve heard a great deal about you.” She holds out a manicured hand, and I put on a show by bending down and planting a chaste kiss on it. Her skin is cool and smooth. Porcelain, like her son’s.

Bill claps me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me off balance. “You’re the baseball star, eh? Your mother has been bragging about you all night.”

I’m not surprised. Same as me, she might not love whatIdo at times, but I’m still her son. She’s proud of me, regardless.

“I wouldn’t say star,” I say, blushing. “At least not yet. I’m just the catcher on the university team.”

“Don’t be so modest, dear,” my mother says, squeezing my bicep. “Daniel’s thebestplayer on the team.”

Susan appraises me the way one does a prize stallion. “I’m sure you have bigger plans for after graduation, though, no? Sports are lucrative, but all it takes is one wrong move and snap”—she snaps her fingers like Thanos—“you’re drunk off your ass and reminiscing about the glory days.”

My mother jumps in before I can respond. “Of course, he has bigger plans. Daniel plans to follow in his father’s footsteps and work with him on Wall Street.”

Wall Street. A cesspool of poison is what it is. My father’s investment firm is a soulless corporation that specializes in hostile takeovers and laying off innocent workers. I’d rather eat glass than work there. But I love my parents too much to ever say no to them.

Susan waves to someone behind me. “Harrison! Come here, dear. There’s someone you must meet.”

Peering over my shoulder, I watch Harrison saunter toward us with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a look of indifference, but I note the tension in his shoulders. When our eyes meet, a splash of pink appears on his cheeks.

“This is my son, Harrison,” Susan says, beaming. But I know it’s fake. The tightness in the corners of her eyes and the way her smile is slightly too wide to be completely genuine are the dead giveaways.

Harrison extends a hand to my parents and then to me. I take it, surprised to find it’s a firm, almost formal shake.

“Nice to meet you all,” he says coolly.

I blink. Once, twice.Is he serious?

I search his face for some hint of what he’s up to.Nice to meet you?We’ve already met. More than met. That night in the holding cell. The night of the poetry slam. Today at Finn Field…

I clear my throat, deciding to follow his lead. For now. “Yeah, nice to meet you too.”

“So, Daniel,” Bill cuts in, swirling his champagne with his finger. “What’s it like balancing school and sports? Must be quite the challenge.”

I shrug. “It keeps me busy, but I manage.”

Harrison pops his hip. “I hear Daniel’s excellent. At sports. I can’t speak for his education.”

Is that a compliment?It sounds more like he’s reporting on the weather. I cock my head, confused as hell, but his eyes aren’t on me. They’re on the giant clock above the band. I wonder if he’s figuring out how long he has to make small talk before he can make a hasty exit.

Susan smiles brightly and claps her hands. “Oh! Maybe Daniel can get Harrison some tickets to his next show.”

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