Page 75 of The Suit

“Did you see Jupe’s hit?”

“Yeah, we’d just arrived. Fucking smash,” Drew nodded, then smirked wide, “How long did Penn talk about it?”

“Couple minutes,” I nodded over to where he was in close conversation with Murray, his head bowed, “though he’s probably still talking about it. Bet that’s a play by play.”

Felix snorted, “You all coming out after the game?”

For the entire time I’d been talking to Drew and Felix, I’d had one eye on Beulah. Right now she was talking while the others were laughing at whatever it was she was saying; something I had no doubt was about me given that Kit kept glancing over, and which set off a light flickering in my chest.

I might not have been able to spend much one-on-one time with her this weekend, but what I had been able to do was watch her in a way I’d never done before. I’d become captivated by that dimple – the one I used to considerably hate - and the way her eyes twinkled a little more than usual whenever it appeared. And the way her mouth turned up in a broad smile showing off straight white teeth, especially when Barclay had been jumping around and begging her to throw his ball, and every time she did tiny creases made a home in the corner of her eyes softening her features to the point she was almost unrecognizable. The anger in her hardened jaw and clenched cheekbones - the anger I was so familiar with – seemed to have disappeared completely.

I focused back on the present when Drew snapped his fingers in front of my unblinking eyes.

“Dude!” He made no attempt to hide his amusement, “we’ve all been there, don’t worry. And you can bring her. Penn’s the one we need to be more concerned about fangirling over Jupe. You know he wrote to the Commissioner to petition him out of his contract?”

“The Commissioner?” My jaw may have unhinged from the speed it dropped. “You’re fucking kidding me!”

“Nope.”

I held up my hand to stop him from continuing. This story needed to be heard by more than just my ears.

“Murray!” I hollered over to where he was side by side with Penn, both of them with arms crossed over their chests, both staring out to the next bat, which would be the Dodgers’ last before the change-over. They turned in sync. “You two, get over here!”

They shuffled down the row, past the girls and stopped. Drew and I moved apart so that they could sit between us.

“What’s up?” Murray asked, looking between the two of us. Penn was still concentrating on the game, his eyes only leaving the field to make sure he didn’t trip while he walked.

I thumbed in Penn’s direction. “Did you know that Pennington here wrote to the Commissioner to ask for Reeves to be let out of his Dodgers’ contract?”

If Murray had been a cartoon character, his eyes would be hanging out on springs right now, “The Commissioner?” He smacked Penn on the arm, though as per usual, Penn was too busy concentrating on the game to pay any attention to our conversation. “The Commissioner, Pennington?”

As the end of the first innings had just come about, we were granted Penn’s attention, though only about seventy percent because there would always be a good proportion still thinking about the game. He looked at Murray, then me, then Drew and Felix.

“What d’you just say?”

“The Commissioner?”

“What about him?” Penn looked blankly back at Murray, who in turn looked at me.

“You wrote to him?

“Probably, but what specifically are you talking about?” he asked, like it was a perfectly normal and appropriate occurrence to write to the Commissioner of Baseball, which in most cases it would be. In Penn’s case, however, it was likely to have been a long-winded complaint about some slight against the Yankees he’d taken personally, or to have Jupiter Reeves released from his contract, apparently.

I looked to Drew to confirm. “Rumor has it you asked him to release Jupiter.”

Penn nodded. “Yeah, so?”

“So?” Murray and I replied in unison, because neither of us had been aware of it. During the baseball season, we worked together to curb the number of emails he fired off in the general direction of Yankee Stadium, but even this was news to us.

“Yeah, there should be a cap on the length of time a player is allowed to stay on one team.”

Murray laughed. “Penn, you’re such a dickhead. If Jupiter was at the Yankees, there’s no way you’d want that enforced.”

A sly grin formed on Penn lips, “Course not.”

Felix leaned in. “Why don’t you just buy the team then you can do whatever you want with it?”

“I’ve tried; Steinbrenner won’t sell.” Penn sulked, and dropped his head solemnly, like not owning his favorite baseball team was a fate worse than death.

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