Page 6 of The Battery
Romo clung tome like I was a lost puppy. Not that I didn’t appreciate his attentiveness, but this wasn’t my first trade and I didn’t need help from The Nicest Guy in the World to introduce me to my new teammates.
The sun had set beyond the stadium. Harsh, neon lights hit the rows of catering tables stuffed with hot trays and spreads from a local joint. I had my fill twenty minutes into the meal, then followed Romo like the puppy I was to meet even more people we had missed throughout the day. The general manager had shown up and even the owner deigned to join us and personally congratulated me on a successful transition. My first game was tomorrow, and I felt the remark preemptive, but he was the head honcho. Like hell I would correct him.
I was standing at the end of one table speaking with the PR chick—a blond bombshell named Emma who I absolutely would have pursued in my earlier years—when the call of nature chimed. I excused myself from her and my guardian and exited the field through the nearest exit, the guest dugout. I lightly jogged down the short stairs, my loafers pinched my heels in the wrong way. Damn things were too tight, but the white leather looked great with my midnight blue chinos and white V-neck.
I turned the corner in the concrete corridor to the restroom when a body swung around and crashed into me. Well, more like bounced off of me. I didn’t exactly budge.
Cody Hill windmilled his arms, found his balance, and prevented himself from falling.
Those wide eyes of his. I could read his face as easily as the jumbotron. “I fucked up again,” it seemed to say. For a single, suspended moment, I had two options presented to me. Lean into my “piss off” mindset and walk past like nothing happened or show the poor sap that I really didn’t hold anything against him. My agent’s pleas to get him removed from the game had fallen on deaf ears anyway.
“Oh. Great. I should probably start packing now,” he said before I could make my choice. Like he could read my agent’s mind.
That took me by surprise. My eyes went down, then up. He wore a gray t-shirt one size too large and what appeared to be an old, reliable pair of jeans.
“What?” I said.
Red cheeks. The color of my former jersey.
“Nothing. Sorry. Forget I said anything.” The embarrassment vanished, replaced by a sneer. He walked around me.
I stood still, facing forward and not turning to him. “What is your problem?”
I heard his footsteps come to a halt. He turned at the same time I did.
His Adam’s apple rose and fell. His eyes looked me up and down in the same rhythm.
Too aggressive.Why did he act like I was some kind of authority?
He averted his eyes and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “No problem here.”
Four hours ago he didn’t break solid eye contact with me in the cafeteria, but now he couldn’t look at me.
“Obviously there is.”
Way too aggressive. He lowered his head a fraction. Shit, were all the pitchers on the Riders this sensitive?
“I’m sorry I hit you. Truly.”
“I am aware it was an accident. Both times.”
“Yep.” He nodded. Finally, he looked at me. Fear.
He thinks you hold his job in your hands.Did the previous catcher have this kind of control over the pitchers? I would have some say, sure, but not everything. Who stayed and left could be influenced by my suggestions but I would never have the final say. Is that what Cody thought? Piss off the catcher, get demoted to the minors?
“Um,” Cody said as he turned. “Enjoy the dinner.” He disappeared around the corner before I could say anything.
I took a leak in the bathroom and rejoined the team on the field. Cody, apparently, had left for the evening.
Our first game tomorrow would be shaky. Cody was on the pitching roster. It was still early enough in the season that a couple of bad innings wouldn’t affect us too much, but it might reflect poorly on Cody.
Time to see what you’re made of, kid, I thought as I found Romo, who introduced me to yet another person…
*
I pulled into the garage of my rental house that sat only a twenty-minute drive from the stadium. I pressed the button to shut the car off, closed the garage door, and sat in the silence. Dropped my head against the headrest.
Everything hadn’t hit me yet. The trade. The move. The gauntlet ahead. I closed my eyes and visualized a future where I succeeded. Winning the pennant, saying goodbye to my uncle, finding someone.
