Page 2 of Off Pitch

“There’s no way my dad doesn’t get on their asses to listen to you and the other trainers, Luc,” Rory replies back.

“Well,” I say, steering the conversation back, “let’s get back to why we’re even at dinner tonight.” I turn to Ella now. “We’re so excited for you and Josh.” Lucia, Rory, and I raise our wine glasses in a toast. “To the future Mrs. Garro.”

Ella smiles happily as we all clink our glasses together before sipping and setting them back on the table.

Lucia faces me now, pushing her silky black hair behind her shoulder. “You know, Lo, talking about that story would really help out your blog. A player engagement would bring in viewers.”

“I write about their stats, Luc, not their damn personal lives. That has nothing to do with how they’re performing.”

“Writing about their personal lives would probably help you reach a larger audience, though,” she says, popping a cherry tomato off her fork.

She’s right—that would help me significantly.Starred and Fastdoes well enough, but I’ve struggled to get it out there. I have some very loyal followers, but I need more. Rent isn’t cheap in NYC. My ad revenue is enough to keep me afloat, but I don’t want to “float” forever—I want to expand and be seen. My brother, Cole, is a great shortstop for the Stars but keeps a relatively low profile, enjoying a quiet life rather than trying to become a household name. And not that I want to ride on mybrother’s coattails, but his desire for privacy is not doing me any favors in getting myself noticed.

“I honestly don’t know how I feel about that, Luc. I don’t want to become a tabloid reporting on everything they do. I want to keep my focus on the game’s workings and how the players perform.”

“I think you could find a balance, Harlow,” Rory adds. “Your readers can get the game and player stats on any sports website, so you need to do something to stand out.”

“I know,” I respond with a sigh. “That’s what I’m hoping I can do with the interviews. I’ll finally be able to give an in-depth look at the people themselves. The players never really get a chance to control the narrative surrounding them, and the personnel is all but forgotten amid the team’s performance. I want to give them a voice, too. They’re just as much a part of the success as the players themselves.”

“I seriously love that idea!” Ella exclaims. “It shouldn’t be too hard for you to get interviews with anyone because of your brother. I’m assuming you’ll start with Cole?”

I shake my head. “You would think so, but considering my brother tries to live in obscurity, he doesn’t want extra attention on him right now.” I use my thumb to point at Rory sitting next to me. “I have Rory set up for my first interview tomorrow. Since she’s Skipper’s daughter and Lane’s nanny, I figure she’ll be a good start to get this side of the blog off the ground.”

I’ve always found it odd that the Field Manager—essentially the head coach—is called Skipper in baseball. Since it wouldn’t be right to call him Coach Fisher, everyone just calls him Skip.

“You’re interviewing personnel, and you’re not interviewing me, your best friend?” Lucia places her hand on her chest in mock offense. “I can’t believe you, Pierce.” She dabs away a tear that isn’t there. “I thought we were closer than that.”

“I’m interviewing one of ourotherbest friends, Luc,“ I reply, playfully shoving her shoulder as she laughs. “You’re on my list, though. I just think Rory and hertake-no-shit-and-give-no-apologiesattitude will be the perfect starting point. Plus, Paul was a hall-of-fame player—everyone knows who she is because of her dad.”

“Ooh, you know who else you should interview? Knox Spencer!”

“Seriously, Luc? Knox might entice people with how he looks in baseball pants, but the man is known for hating interviews. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him smile.”

“He looks good in baseball pants, huh?” Rory smirks.

“Hey, I just call it like I see it. But even if he was blessed with such a perky backside, it doesn’t make up for his shitty attitude. There’s no way the man would ever agree to an interview.”

“He’s friends with Cole, Josh, and Lane, though,” Ella adds.

“And I think he’s spoken a total of ten words to me in the three years that I’ve known him. He never talks when we’re all together.”

“So wear him down then. Mr. Grumpy Pants could use some of your sunshine to brighten up his rainy parade.” Lucia shrugs her shoulders.

Knox Spencer is known across the league for his terrible attitude and the lack of enthusiasm he gives in interviews. The guy can throw a hell of a fastball, and he’s one of the only pitchers in the league who can successfully throw a knuckleball. He’s damn good at what he does, and he knows it. The media circus around him knows it, too, and they try their damnedest to question him about it. But Knox doesn’t care. He shows up for his post-game interviews because he is contractually required to do so. He gives short replies and peels out the moment he’s able to.

Getting a guy like that to interview withStarred and Fastwould be massive for me. Fans love watching him on the mound, but that’s the extent to which anyone knows him. He’s a mystery, an enigma. So maybe Lucia is right—perhaps he just needs some sunshine to warm him up.

Water cascades around me as I wash away the day, rinsing all my stress down the drain. Dinner with the girls helped, but I can’t sate my worry.

Worry about my blog and how I can increase traffic.

Worry about my brother as he starts a new season with the Stars and how he will perform.

Worry about getting friendly enough with the players and having them agree to do interviews with me.

I know it’s going to be hard to break through to Knox. But I can’t help but feel that there’s more to him beneath the surface. Under that gruff exterior could be a heart of gold, someone sympathetic and charming. Knox is one of Cole’s closest friends, and Cole is like me—bright and optimistic. He wouldn’t keep the company of someone who doesn’t have any redeeming qualities. Hopefully, I can learn more about him through the season as I try to become more friendly with the players.

When the hot water runs out, I step out of the shower and into the steamy bathroom, wrapping myself up in one of my favorite plush towels. Standing in front of the mirror, I take a look and see all my freckles prominently displayed across my nose, cheeks, and chest. I never used to mind them, but my ex-boyfriend Derek was not a fan. He always said they made me less attractive. Since then, I’ve kept them covered with copious amounts of foundation and concealer, rendering them virtually unnoticeable. That’s just the way I prefer it now.

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