Page 66 of The Show

He moved away with a grin. “Don’t know about this ‘we’ business, I want no part in what you’re up to.”

Beulah walked toward Cody and me, looking up at the screen. “What are you up to?”

I sat back in my chair. I guess as my newly appointed Head of Legal I needed to start involving her in all the decisions I was making, and planned to make. Even if they were bordering on ridiculous and questionable. Still, this would be a good test for how she was going to deal with me. Even I could admit I liked to keep things interesting in a way that regular folk found tiresome, but seeing as she was in a relationship with Rafe, I’d bet on her staying the course.

“Jupiter Reeves will only come to The Lions if I find a girl for him. She’s currently employed by N.A.S.A., and we’re trying to figure out a way to get her to quit rocket science and join the world of baseball.”

Beulah’s eyes lit up, and then she started laughing as hard, if not harder, than Rafe had.

“I wish I’d known you guys were this much fun at school.” She wiped her eyes and glanced around, but only Rafe was grinning which caused her laughter to die out. “Wait, you’re for real?”

Rafe nodded, pulling Beulah into him again. “Pennington has found himself in the unfortunate position where he might actually have to come up with a plan B, because the one stipulation of getting his favorite player to join his new team rests on an impossible task.”

My jaw ground. Raferty Latham really was one of my most irritating friends.

“Nothing’s impossible!” I snapped.

“And yet maybe you just found the one thing that is,” he baited, but didn’t say any more when Beulah moved away from him with a frown and stepped toward me.

“Hang on a minute, I’m with Penn. Nothing’s impossible, and seeing as you got me into this situation in the first place, I’d expect a little more support.”

I threw a smug grin Rafe’s way while simultaneously ignoring the fact that Beulah wasn’t jumping for joy at working for me. I’d give her time for that.

“Yeah. You should be giving your girlfriend better support, Raferty!”

“Hey! Cody ismyresource you’re using. You got this far because ofme. You wouldn’t have been able to hack into N.A.S.A. and find her withoutme!” he shot back, poking his index finger against his chest with each point he was trying to make.

“You hacked N.A.S.A.?” Beulah’s hands flew to her ears, covering them. “Oh man, don’t tell me this!”

“Beulah!” I yelled so she’d hear, attempting to change the subject in case she walked out, or more worryingly, refused to come work with me. “When are you getting your bar results? Can you get them early? I could really do with you starting asap, or at the very least two days a week.”

I could see Rafe’s brows drop deeply, his face creasing up in bewilderment.

“Why have you started asking so many questions all at the same time? Is this going to be your thing now? Because I’m out if it is.”

I shrugged. “It’s timesaving, and I’m working against the clock.” I looked to Beulah for her response.

Her arms crossed over her chest. “Next week. No. Yes, okay, I can probably swing that.”

I grinned wide at Rafe. “See? Your girlfriend here, she gets time efficiency.”

Rafe’s eye roll was so deep I wondered if they’d get stuck, but he got up and headed over to the coffee machine - sight intact.

“Anyway, can you start right now and help us figure out how to get Marnie?”

“Who’s Marnie?”

“Jupiter’s rocket scientist,” yelled Rafe from the coffee machine at the other end of the room.

“Oh, okay. Well, what do you know?”

Cody did his thing and the screen changed back to Marnie’s image, but this time, it was split with some kind of intel sheet, which he’d clearly filled out himself because it had Rafe’s company logo on the top of it.

Beulah stood next to me and stared up at Marnie. “She’s a rocket scientist, and we have to get her here?”

“Yep.” I rocked back on my heels, side-eying her. “And Jupiter wanted me to create a foundation for girls, but what would that be? The Lions Baseball Space Academy for Girls?!”

Beulah chuckled under her breath.

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