Page 27 of Spotlight
7
FLYNN
Friday after our first week of spring training, JT invites me to go out with him and a few of the guys. We hit up a dive bar near the stadium, taking up two long tables in a quiet corner.
Most of the days, pitchers and catchers work out separately from the other positions for a good portion of the day. Which means I haven’t had a lot of time to get to know the team. We eat together twice a day and there are team meetings and scrimmages, but there isn’t time to sit and relax.
And if I’m completely honest, I think a good portion of the team is holding out judgment on me. I can’t tell if they’re worried I’m going to ruin their season or if they’re just so used to guys coming in for one season and ditching that they don’t bother getting to know newbies.
Whatever the reason, tonight seems to be breaking the ice. Gunnar Cruise, the Mustangs’ first baseman, and Bo Mitchell, an outfielder, are deep in conversation aboutThe White Lotus. While JT and one of our relief pitchers, Freddie, and I sit in a quiet, companionable silence.
It was a long week, filled with long days, and we’re all beat.
“Anyone want another round?” Freddie asks as he stares down at his nearly empty pint glass. He’s only a few years older than me but had an elbow injury two years ago that he’s battled on and off, which has kept him from seeing a lot of time on the mound.
“Nah. I should probably get home to the wife and kids,” JT says. “I’ve barely seen them this week.”
Freddie looks to me.
“I can stay.” My apartment, though I’ve barely been there except to sleep, is too quiet. No way I want to go stare at the blank walls all night.
“Yo, Gunnar,” Freddie calls down the table. “Another beer?”
“Yeah, but can we go someplace where women aren’t afraid to step through the door?” He nods his head toward the big, burly men at the bar. Their Harleys are parked out front and they’re all wearing leather and sporting beards. They look tough, even though I’d wager most of them are as friendly as they come, unless you touch their bike. I know from experience with my brother Knox. The fastest way to piss him off is to touch his bike… or his woman. Both and you’re a dead man.
Again, Freddie looks to me.
“Let’s do it,” I say.
JT drove us all over from the stadium so as he heads home, the rest of us pile into an Uber. I don’t bother asking where we’re going since anyplace but home is fine by me.
We pull up in front of Lilac Lounge, a popular night club. Sabrina used to work here as a dancer. It’s a cool place. Inside there’s a bar and tables spread out for groups who want to sit and chill. But outside there’s a patio surrounding a giant pool. They have a DJ on the weekends, and he’s set up at the back with cage dancers on either side of the stage.
“Now this is more like it.” Gunnar rubs his palms together as we enter the club. It’s packed tonight, making it hard to walk.
“This place has the hottest bartenders,” Freddie says to me.
I nod, but my brain swirls with something Archer said: Olivia bartends here. Or she did. That’s how she and Sabrina met and became friends. Olivia wasn’t here the night I came with my brothers and Sabrina though so maybe she quit? Except now that I think about it, she mentioned she bartended that night in New York.
I detour away from the rest of the group, speaking over my shoulder, “I’ll meet you guys out there.”
Freddie nods and I head toward the inside bar. There’s a chaotic crowd, trying to get close enough to order. Being tall gives me an advantage to see over the madness. Hanging back, I let my gaze scan the full length of the bar looking for a familiar blonde bombshell. Brunette, Brunette, Dude… but no Olivia.
Disappointment trickles in. With spring training, I haven’t had a lot of time to sit and think about anything else. But I have thought about her. She’s a tough one to crack. I know she’s attracted to me because she said as much in New York. Maybe it’s weird for her because I’m her best friend’s fiancé’s brother but that seems like a stretch. There’s something else holding her back and I intend to find out.
I pull out my phone to text Sabrina. I feel like there’s a good chance I can convince her to give me Olivia’s number or at least help me bump into her again. My future sister-in-law loves me. The feeling is mutual. She’s funny and protective of my brother. And anyone who makes Archer as happy as she does is okay in my book.
While I’m tapping out a message, someone bumps into me from behind.
“Sorry, man,” the guy says.
I glance up and turn to tell him it’s no problem, but that’s when I see her. She’s carrying a tray over her head as she squeezes through the crowd. The way her arms are lifted pulls her purple tank top up, exposing a whole lot of smooth, alabaster skin. Her tits are pushed up and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She’s dressed sexier than any other time I’ve seen her. Even though I know it’s a uniform meant to make people stare at her, I feel a jolt of possessiveness.
It takes some effort and time for her to push through and make her way behind the bar. She sets the tray down and moves to the far side of the bar to help the other bartenders.
I move in that direction, but still hang back while I watch her. A smile curves my lips. She’s quick, pouring drinks and taking the next order with an ease and skill that’s impressive. Other people notice too and move toward her side. Mostly men. Even without hearing her exchanges with some of the guys, I can tell they’re hitting on her. It’s in the way they lean toward her or linger a little longer than necessary.
She offers a few flirty smiles and even a wink to one older guy, but she’s moving so fast no one can pin her down long enough for more than a quick back and forth.
