Page 13 of Fake Love

Without hesitation, she hands me the bag and rolls her shoulders in relief of no longer feeling the weight.

“Thank you. Who knew that pastries could be so damn heavy.”

“Is there a reason why you have a garbage bag of pastries?” I ask, looking at the contents of the bag.

Is she taking these home because she can’t afford to eat? If that’s the case, I will buy her food before we get to her place. No way am I going to let her survive on just pastries.

I’m about to pull out my phone to look for the nearest grocery store when she answers my question.

“I feel bad every time I close and there is a ton of food left over, because there are people out there that really need it. So, when I can, I get everything that was supposed to be thrown out and give it to the homeless on my way home. The food is still good, so why not give it to someone that really needs it, you know?”

Am I stunned by her kindness? A little. There are a lot of generous people out in the world and at times you find them in the most unexpected places.

A coffee shop.

A strip club.

“That’s very admirable of you.” I state.

When I was first drafted, I made it my mission to give back to my community and to the people that watched me play since I was in t-ball. I gave back any chance I could, but when my mom’s diagnosis came and I shut down, it all stopped.

It may be time to start it back up again.

“I’m just giving them food. There are people out there that do so much more for them.”

“Is that what you're passionate about? Helping the homeless? Or is it making coffee?”

I added the last part to lighten the mood a bit, but I already know that she could give two shits about making coffee. I saw the way she looked in the cafe, and she hated every minute of it.

A snort escapes her. “Coffee was just a steppingstone that I got too comfortable with,” she says, turning to give me a small smile. “I like helping people, sure, that will always be something I do, but not an ultimate passion.”

“So what is?”

“Digital media.”

Now I’m the one letting out a snort. “So you’re one of those social media influencers?”

“There is nothing wrong with being an influencer, but no. I’m talking about using digital media to send a message. A good message and use the world that you have in the palm of your hands for something great.”

Interesting.

Being a professional athlete, I always have to be conscious of what I post on my socials. It can’t be anything too personal or even something that can be taken the wrong way. I never posted about my charity work because I didn’t want to have people in my business, but I know now that I was looking at it the wrong way.

Maybe having someone like Jennifer on my team for that sort of thing would be helpful.

“What about you?” she asks me as we approach an overpass that has a few tents under it.

“What about me?” I ask, hearing the bite that comes with my words.

She doesn’t seem affected by it.

“What brings you to San Francisco?” the question comes out with a curiosity to it that I think I like.

Do I tell her that I’m a drug addict baseball player that just got traded here from his hometown and away from his mom because of his bad behavior?

Or do I lie? It's not like I will see her after tonight anyway.

“Work,” I tell her, not lying.

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