Page 47 of Heavy Hitter

“I don’t know,” she says. “Game 4? I think it sounds like fun.”

“You think it sounds fun?” he asks before he can stop himself. Game 4 is tomorrow fucking night. “Or Maddie thinks it sounds fun?”

“Rude!” she says, laughing a little. “We both think it’s a good idea.”

“Because of Toby’s comedy thing?”

“Because you’re my boyfriend, Jimmy!” Lacey sounds stung. “And I’m proud of you, and I’m excited you’re in the playoffs, and I just—whatever. If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

Right away, Jimmy feels like a massive douchebag. “It’s not that I don’t want you to,” he says quickly, though he’s not actually sure that’s the truth. He tries to imagine it, just as a thought experiment, Lacey up in one of the boxes with all the other WAGs: Jonesy’s wife, who he’s always in a fight with, Tito’s longtime girlfriend and their three quiet, polite kids. Rachel used to come sometimes, though she always liked to sit in the cheap seats instead of upstairs in the suites eating Sysco chicken tenders from catering. She used to bring a book of crossword puzzles, her sneakered feet propped up in front of her while she worked through the clues. “Of course I want you to.”

“Okay,” Lacey says, still sulking a little. “Well then?”

Jimmy hesitates, paused at a red light not far from the stadium. His instinct is to tell her no. The stakes are too high, and already he knows what it’s going to be like, the way she has of bringing the circus to town everywhere she goes: the press, the fans, the general hysteria. They’re talking about the playoffs here, not some sleepy afternoon game in the middle of June that doesn’t matter. He should tell her it isn’t a good idea.

Then he thinks of kissing her bright red mouth in the middle of the field, confetti raining down all around them. Flashbulbs exploding like stars.

“Absolutely,” Jimmy says, hitting the gas as the light turns green up above him. “Let’s make it happen.”

***

THE FRONT OFFICE LOVES THE IDEA, OBVIOUSLY. THEY’RE PRACTICALLY salivating, counting their coins like predatory cartoon forest animals in a 1970s Disney movie. “You think she’d want to do a promo spot?” one of them asks when they call him in later that afternoon to talk logistics.

“To promote... the fact that she’s attending the game?” Jimmy asks, shaking his head a little. “I think maybe we want to preserve the element of surprise there, boys, don’t you?”

The guys are, understandably, significantly less enthused. “I thought we were supposed to be playing professional sports here,” Jonesy grumbles when word gets out around the locker room after the game that night. They won, which puts them ahead 2–1 in the series; Jimmy had hoped the lead would soften the ground for him a little bit, though it doesn’t seem to have worked that way. “Not hosting the Jimmy Hodges Dating Experience.”

“Pretty serious talk from a guy who mooned reporters from the bus last season,” Jimmy chides, but it’s not like he doesn’t understand what Jonesy is getting at. He’s supposed to be the captain of this team and instead he knows this is going to make things objectively more difficult for his guys, who he’s supposed to be looking out for. His guys, who he honestly loves.

“Oh, pull it together, you mooks,” Tuck says. “You guys are just worried you’re going to embarrass yourselves in front of a pretty girl.”

“Thanks,” Jimmy says once they’re alone. “For the assist back there, I mean.”

He’s fully expecting some well-deserved ribbing in return, but Tuck doesn’t so much as smile. “I didn’t do it for you,” he says. “I did it for them. Somebody needs to be thinking about morale out there, and it’s sure as shit not you.”

“Seriously?” Jimmy blinks, surprised by the suddenness of it. They’ve barely talked about Lacey at all. They’ve barely talked about much of anything lately, Jimmy realizes, now that he’s stopping to think about it; he guesses he’s been—well. Distracted. “What the fuck, dude?”

“You what the fuck!” Tuck shoots back. “I’m supposed to be your best friend, Jimmy. You didn’t think a heads-up would have been appropriate?”

“Is that what this is about?” Jimmy asks. “You’re salty you didn’t get the celebrity gossip ahead of time? Buy you a little social capital with Rose?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Tuck says. “You know I don’t give a shit about that kind of thing. What I do give a shit about is you throwing a curveball like this into the most important game we’ve had so far this season.” He shakes his head. “You really think it’s a good idea for her to just, like, casually drop in?”

“People come to our games all the time,” Jimmy says as coolly as he can manage. “I generally try not to pay them too much mind either way.”

“Bullshit,” Tuck says immediately. “You know this isn’t the same.” He blows out a noisy breath. “I’m not trying to be a dick to you, bro. But we have worked too fucking hard, and we have gotten too fucking lucky for you to be throwing it away now on a piece of—”

“Don’t say it,” Jimmy interrupts him. “I mean it. Don’t say it. That’s not what this is.”

“Of course that’s what this is!” Tuck explodes. “What are you trying to tell me, that you’re in love with her? That she’s your soul mate? No, of course not. She is very fucking beautiful, and she is very fucking famous, but is whatever is happening here worth throwing away your last chance to win a World Series? I’m your best friend, dude. I’ve been your best friend for a lot of years, and I don’t want you to do that. Not for you, not for me, and not for the rest of this team.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimmy says stubbornly. He’s out on a limb, he knows he is; all at once, it feels very, very important that he doesn’t look down. “I am the leader of this team—”

“Then fucking lead it!” Tuck explodes.

“Thanks for the tip,” Jimmy tells him, then turns and stalks out of the room.

***

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