Page 49 of The Cannon
The scrumptious food and sexy music do the talking. Sawyer and I are comfortably wrapped in a corner booth. The timeworn maroon leather making a cocoon. Lighting is low, both on the tables and the walls. The pianist tickles the ivories so effortlessly it seems he’s in another world. Le Vie En Rose sets a beautiful mood.
“Let’s have another,” Sawyer says pouring the Chateau la fete Rothschild 2017.
The sommelier said that was an excellent year.
“Ummm. Yes.”
His eyes lift to mine.
“I like that sound you make. Do it again.”
I giggle a little. “Ummm.”
He holds a hand to his heart.
“There’s one oyster left. I want you to have it,” he says spearing then lifting it to me.
A shake of my head and he pops it in his mouth. To savor has never been so eloquently acted out. His lips are wet with the garlicky butter that bathed the delicious mollusk.
“Aren’t you happy you gave them a try?”
He lifts a finger to tell me he hasn’t finished enjoying the bite. I’m highly entertained by the level of pleasure. He dramatically swallows.
“Oh god. That’s my new favorite food.”
“Don’t tell Birdie that. She thinks you’re her biggest fan.”
His hand reaches for mine.
“It’s our secret.”
“I suppose being exposed to the arts or other culture’s food was low on the list of priorities for your foster families.”
“For all but one. The third family I was with were in community theater. But I was so young I was never really a part of that. And most of the time it’s hard enough to feed and clothe another child.”
“That’s understandable. It would be cool to organize some kind of event or maybe even just a day where we take some foster children to see a play. Wouldn’t it?”
Sawyer’s eyes light up with the suggestion.
“Yeah. Hell yeah. Maybe once a month or every other month we could plan a matinee or how about a meal at a restaurant? Why didn’t I think of this before? I could, we could, bring a little sunshine to them. I’m getting excited just thinking about it,” he says.
“And you’d have a great chance at getting the parents to agree. Use your celebrity.”
He squeezes my hand in a new way. It’s almost as if he’s thanking me for something so much more than just a suggestion. It hit home.
Chapter 13
Sawyer
Florida sucked. Glad we’re back in Memphis for three whole days. Away games have started to sour for me. The time crawled.
I know how fortunate I was to be discovered. No doubt the greatest thing that’s ever happened in my life. But being away from Bristol is boring as shit.
What an asshole I am to even entertain the thought. Brick would shit a brick. And Boone would wonder how I ever ended up with a seven-million-dollar three-year guaranteed contract. I’m wondering myself if I can be so easily distracted.
Meanwhile, I’ve discovered another passion. What I can do to brighten some young lives that are facing challenges.
Three weeks ago I went to Bristol’s practice and met a handful of her young patients. Children battling one deadly disease or another. Those kids are well enough to stay in their homes and have doctor visits, but too sick to spend a day at the ballpark. So I came to them, with hats and signed balls, video messages from their favorite players. I brought along Atticus and Sammy, the first baseman.
