Page 12 of Wild Pitch
“Everything good?” Lily asked.
“Yeah, Kelsey and Crew flew out to Minnesota. She’s a guest of one of the pitchers for the Minutemen.”
“Wait, who?”
“Sam Drummond,” I said, leaving out the superstitious, good luck charm nonsense.
Lily looked down at her phone and tapped something into Google.
“Damn, Kelsey did good.”
“Well, we’re not sure what’s going on yet. But the man flew her and Crew out first class.”
Lily kept looking through the news stories, “He doesn’t throw off any red flags. I can ask Hawk what he thinks if you want?”
“Hawk?”
“Jonathan Crosby, his grandfather, is the owner of the Minutemen. He’s expected to take over the franchise when his grandfather steps aside.”
How could I be surrounded by so many people affiliated with the baseball team I grew up watching with my dad?
“It’s crazy. I know all these people live in Boston, but I forget we might run into them. But no, don’t say anything to Hawk. I wouldn’t want it to get back to Sam if he didn’t want something more with my sister. Don’t want him to think that she’s making this into a Cinderella story or anything.”
We polished off the bottle of champagne, and I called an Uber to take me back home. It was late, but I figured I would try to catch the highlights of the Minutemen’s game, maybe even the last inning if I was lucky. They had a late night followed by an afternoon game the next day. The closer gave up the second home run of the game to Rodon, a hitter who had been hot going into this series, but they still managed the win.
I had turned off the television and was scrolling through my phone when I heard from Luc.
Luc: Did you catch the game?
Me: I did. Nice save for Colbert; but it’s too bad Rodon got that on him.
Luc: Good girl. I see you pay attention.
Me: I bleed for the Minutemen.
Luc: If I coached for the Bronx?
Me: New number. Who’s this?
Luc: Point taken.
Luc: I’m just happy you’re interested.
Huh. Why did that statement make me want to ask him if his wife was interested in the sport? Whelp, Kylie, that’s what you get for internet stalking the woman. You can’t erase the dozens of photos that popped up showing Luc staring at the woman like he wouldn’t be able to breathe if she left the goddamn room.
I’d never been jealous, but then again, the boys I had dated had never been too interesting. And that’s what they were, boys. Luc, age aside, was a man.
Me: I signed on a new apartment tonight.
Luc: Where?
Me: Back Bay, Commonwealth Ave.
I sent him the photo of the front of the brownstone.
Luc: Well, hello, neighbor.
Me: Are you nearby?
