Page 5 of Nailed at Home Plate

Her personality grew on me during the season last year, when she was hired. In the off-season, we commiserated in our mutual misery and became forever friends. I mean, who else could understandthe utter insanity that I had to go through on a daily basis?

For the games, Tiffiny did her own thing. Sometimes she joined the guys on the field for a routine. But there was just something there that made her reluctant to do so regularly. I mean, I get it. Being on the field in front of a crowd was rather intimidating. That’s why I never tried it myself. I was more than happy sitting in the outfield and looking on with pride. Or wellcringing.

Sometimes the guys took their owncreativeliberties. Usually, it worked out in their favor. How were the fans to know that the routine wasn’t supposed to go that way? Then again it could also turn out to be an epic fail that ended up on social media. Which then fell on my shoulders. How the fuck was I supposed to keep them in line during a game? Remote-controlled shock collars?

Believe me, I suggested that already.

Squirting them with the field’s watering hoses was a very close second. Also vetoed.

“More like herding cats.” Tiffiny’s gaze hardened the longer she stared out at the field. “Smelly, off-beat, howling, hairless cats.”

I snorted. “Geez let me get the bullhorn out and immediately tell the guys what you think of them.”

“Oh, they know.”

Even with her attitude, I knew Tiffiny loved this team almost as much as me. Although if she had to deal with the players regularly, like I do, hercharmingdescription of them might skew a bit differently. But only a bit.

“They aren’t that off-beat today,” I added after taking a long, hard look at them mid-routine.

“Yeah,today.”

I cocked my brow at her. “Well, you’re in a rather chipper mood. Throwing out compliments left and right here.”

“It's the heat.” She dismissed quickly as she squirted some water from her Sillys water bottle into her mouth. Her brown hair was plastered to her forehead in misshapen ringlets. The suit did have a fan/air conditioning contraption, but it only offered a tiny bit of relief in the insufferable summer humidity.

“You know…wearing a fur suit isn’t exactly the most conducive for people who despise the heat–”

“And what the hell am I going to do with my Masters in Theater Studies? Teach a bunch of stuck-up kids how to do shitty Shakespeare in a private school in center city? Hell no. At least here I can work solo.” She hooked a fuzzy thumb in the direction of the team. Subtlety was definitely not her middle name.

“Hey ‘Shitty Shakespeare’ does have a nice ring to it… You might want to trademark that as a backup plan. Or at the very least that would make a fantastic band name.”

That at least got some semblance of a smile out of her.

“Sure, let me pull together all that money I have lying around while I pay off my student loans for the rest of my natural life.” Tiffiny let out a huff, almost as if she tried to hold back laughing at her own joke. “Speaking of money, how’s thatboyfriendof yours?”

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. With it being baseball season, it was a given that neither Tiffiny nor I had any semblance of a significant other. Whichcould only mean that it was one very unattainable person she was referring to.

“Oh…uh, Jamie’s, um…fine.” The incredibly hunky catcher had graced my apartment almost nightly since late February. Although “graced” was a stretch. The man showed up on my television, not nearly enough, thanks to there being other players on a baseball team. Sometimes I wished I could bribe someone to keep a camera solely on Jamie for the entire game.

“Any homers lately?”

Only in my fantasies in the ballpark of my bed.

“Not since before his surgery.” I sighed. The franchise nearly broke my heart when they announced all of a sudden that Jamie was going on the IL due to knee surgery. That was the longest few weeks of my life. Tiffiny got me through most of it with movie nights and gorging ourselves on appetizers at our favorite local haunts. Although not without some rather heated teasing about my “boyfriend”, as she calls him.

“That’s too bad. It's probably because you didn’t send him any flowers.” I rolled my eyes. “Or topless pics.” That comment earned an elbow to her upholstered bell curve.

“You’re such a brat.”

“But you love me.”

“Only sometimes.”

“That’s fine. I can only tolerate you sometimes.” We both cracked up with laughter. It was always a loving but insulting back and forth. A love language for both of us.

“But really,” I sighed as the fantasy I had of Jamie hovered in the back of my mind. “Who would want to date one of these guys anyway?”

“I don’t know. Some parts of them are appealing. Money. Fame.” Tiffiny offered with a shrug. “Hot bodies.”

---