Page 13 of Sure Shot
“Hey, Rebecca!” another player says, grabbing the owner’s attention. He’s not just any player. Eric Bayer is one of the veterans I was meant to replace. Bayer is only a year or two older than I am, but he retired last season after one too many knee surgeries. “Did you happen to see… Oh, there it is!” Bayer reaches under the caterer’s table and emerges with a tote bag. It’s covered in bright pink bunny rabbits. He pulls a baby’s bottle out of the sack and begins to shake it. “Just in time,” he says.
I search my brain, trying to remember if I ever met his wife. But I come up blank. I thought he was single.
“Do you need to heat that up?” Becca offers.
“Nope. The little miss likes it cool or warm or any temperature at all.” He pops the protective top off. “Here she comes now.”
I glance toward the half flight of stairs to the house, and my heart fails. Because it’s Bess who’s carrying a chubby little baby girl out into the yard. The baby is propped snugly on her hip and clutches a lock of Bess’s striking red hair in her tiny hand.
Bess is too distracted by the baby to look at me, which is a good thing because I know there’s shock written all over my face.
“Wow, Rookie,” she says to Eric. “That’s a very manly diaper bag you have there.”
“You shut up,” he says with a smile. “Thanks for the free babysitting.”
“Who says it was free?” Bess asks, handing the baby over.
That’s when I remember to breathe. Because Bess isn’t Eric’s wife, and that’s not her baby. Not that I should care. It doesn’t have a thing to do with me.
What the heck is wrong with me? Back in the day, Bess and I weren’t even serious. We had a wonderful, physical fling.
Before she broke it off, without telling me why.
Eric pries his daughter’s fingers off Bess’s hair and casually tips the baby back into his embrace, the bottle sliding into her mouth like he’s done this a thousand times before. All the women in a twenty-foot radius are watching him with hearts in their eyes.
Even Bess. “Need anything else?” she asks, taking the baby’s chubby little bare foot in her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“No boss, I got this.”
Her brother Dave calls over to them. “Don’t call herboss, it will go right to her head.”
“That’s the idea,” Eric insists. “It helps to gloss over my general incompetence.” Then he turns his head and spots me listening in on this friendly drama. “Hey, man. It’s been a while since I faced off against you.”
“It has, right?” I say stiffly. “Last fall, maybe?”
“Yeah,” Bayer agrees. “I only got six weeks of the regular season. Welcome to Brooklyn. I’m sure you’re questioning all your life choices right now, but this is a good group.”
“I can tell,” I lie.
“Uh-huh.” He gives me a grin, like he can see right through me.
“What are you up to these days?” I ask.
“Working for this tough lady here.” He jerks his chin toward Bess, who rolls her eyes at him. “Trying my hand as an agent.”
“Oh, cool.” I’d heard that Bess was doing well with her business in Detroit. She’s rumored to be a tough negotiator. And it makes sense that she’d want someone on the East Coast to help her grow the business.
“I’m still learning the ropes,” Eric says. “You’re Henry Kassman’s client, right?”
“True story.”
“Well done, Rookie!” Bess says to Eric. She’s still avoiding my eyes. “Look at the memory on you.”
“Hey, I pay attention. You two must have met Kassman at about the same time?” he asks her. “You must have overlapped by a year or so.”
“Overlapped,”I say slowly.“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Briefly,” Bess stammers, lifting her chin to show me a pair of startled, guilty eyes. She takes a deep breath. “Kassman runs a great shop” she says coolly. “I loved working with Henry.”
