Page 19 of Endgame

“I thought you might say that. I’ll make this short and to the point. A little birdie might have shared that you are a very talented photographer and would be perfect for the position we are looking to fill. Basically, what I’m saying is, we want to hire you.”

Little birdie?

All signs point to my meddlesome best friend who likes to screw with my plans for myself. But goodness, I love her for it.

“Um, okay. I’m not exactly looking for a job, but I’d love to hear more about it. “

“Works for me. We would like you to be the Team's Marketing Photographer. More or less, wherever they go, you go. Headshots, field shots, photographing from home and away games which means traveling, etc. We need all of thebehind-the-scenes shots about the life of a Major League ballplayer, along with the professional side documented. Spring training games are quickly approaching, and we want our Striker’s brand to make a statement in order to show the team's realness, as well as the aspects of their lives that drive and motivate them to take the field every night for their fans. You will have complete creative freedom as long as appropriate. We’ve seen your portfolio, and your work is exquisite. We’d be lucky to have you. We can go into more details when you come in to sign the contract and get your stadium access badges. That is, if you’re interested.”

Jaw meet floor.

That's not what I was expecting to hear today.

I need to answer quickly since I’ve been sitting silently while he waits for my response.

“Mr. Leggins —”

He cuts in respectfully, “Please, call me Jack.”

“Jack, to be considered for this is such an honor. Words seem to be a little lost to me, but I can say I’m most definitely interested, and I’d love to meet with you.”

“That’s what I was hoping to hear. Let’s meet this coming Friday at 10:00 a.m. We will get all your paperwork situated, and then you can meet the team. They will be in the middle of a practice scrimmage, so it’s perfect timing. That work for you?”

Fabulous. I’m going to be sick.

“Oh. Yes, sir. That works great. See you then, Jack.”

“Have a great day, Dakota.”

That was Saturday.

Now I might have to travel with Callaway’s team and see him every day. I’m not sure if I’m strong enough. I know I’m strong enough to avoid him, but I have an even stronger feeling he won’t let me.

It’s like the guy couldn’t take no for an answer yesterday. He wouldn’t leave me alone. It must be a Hayes thing—his sister, Navy, is tenacious too.

I’d be a fool to turn this job down, though. This is my opportunity to find a purpose for myself, despite all the hell I’ve been through this past year. Although this is a big change, especially since it’s been so long since I’ve worked for an organization, I’m excited to put my skills to good use and possibly make some friends out of it.

Lord knows I need them.

My body is no doubt headed for shock from all the surrounding testosterone.

Might be worth it.

One thing is for sure—I need a change of pace and a new challenge to break this pity funk I’m slowly dying in.

What is it they say about life? When it gives you lemons…make lemonade or a lemon drop.

Maybe this is what I need. It’ll give me something to invest myself in and hopefully subside the numbness, making me feel again.

It's time to shift my eyes to the positive.

Atlanta Strikers, here I come.

9

CALLAWAY

King:Fuck. I can’t feel my legs. Who pissed Leggins off yesterday and made him go ape shit on us?

---