Page 18 of Houston, We Have a Problem
He’s clearly thought this through, and I can tell he’s not going to give me much of a choice.
The beast is coming out to play.
“You seem nervous.” Jesse is working on the final touches on my hair, speaking for the first time since I told him I need to become Tamlin.
I sigh. “I am nervous. I haven’t done any of this investigative stuff as Tamlin before, and it’ll be a lot harder to blend in when I look like this.” At least Jesse has put me in a blouse and slacks instead of a dress; not even a glam girl like Tamlin would wear a cocktail dress outside of sporting eventsand parties. I’ll still be in heels—I need to maintain that height to differentiate Tamlin from Darcy—but at least I’ll be wearing pants for once.
I still can’t believe how easily Jesse makes me look like a different person with a little bit of makeup. Sure, there’s the wig and the contacts, but he always manages to stretch out my face and make my nose look long and thin. My cheekbones look higher and more pronounced. And I always stand more confidently when he’s done, though that could also be because of the fake boobs.
These things are lethal. I always envied the women who packed more up front than I ever did until I had to carry these puppies around for a day, and now I feel sorry for everyone with chronic back issues because of what they have to hold up.
“You’ll do fine,” Jesse says with a chuckle. He tucks the last elegant curl in place and then pins some hair to the side, out of my face. I haven’t had long hair like this since high school, but even if I did, there is no way I would be able to do the things Jesse does with it. Mostly because my real hair does not cooperate like Tamlin’s. Jesse always seems to breathe a sigh of relief when he tucks my blonde away to make room for Tamlin’s gorgeous dark locks because even he thinks my not-quite-curls are a nightmare. “Just be that confident and no-nonsense girl I know is in there, and no one will get in your way.”
When my rideshare arrives, Jesse makes sure the coast is clear before I slip out of the house and into the waiting car. We double checked the unattached garage that sits off to the side of the house to make sure Houston’s old red pickup—rusty spots and everything—was gone, but there’s still a fair bit of risk of someone seeing Tamlin at Darcy’s house. Heaven forbid I get stuck in a Mrs. Doubtfire situation without an hour for Jesse to work his magic hands. I may be a decent actor, but I don’t thinkanyone could pull off a cream face without someone figuring out the ruse.
When I reach the Red-tails stadium, my heart is pounding in my throat, but I swallow it down. This is no different from strong-arming my way into an interview at the NBA playoffs when I wasn’t technically granted access to the arena. My press credentials get me into a lot of places, but not everywhere, and offseason training is not a place I should be snooping. But here I am.
“Thanks,” I tell my driver, giving him a good tip in the app because he only looked back in the rear view mirror a couple of times. Some of my rides have been terrifying because the guys driving are more interested in me than the road. Sometimes Jesse is a littletoogood at his job.
Slipping out of the car, I take a deep breath and force all of my nerves away. Whatever happens, unless I get arrested or something, this isn’tmesnooping around. This is Tamlin. Tamlin doesn’t fear anything, and nothing she does affects me in reality. It’s all just a game. A meaningless game.
A security guard finds me at the side entrance to the stadium, the one the team uses. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
I flash him a smile. “You sure can. I’m here to meet with Hiroshi Fujimura.” I love this smile of mine, not just because it helps Tamlin overwhelm men who think too hard with anything but their brains. Connor paid for an expensive teeth-whitening treatment when I first started reporting, which means this is a Darcy smile too. It makes it so much easier to use when it’s a real part of me.
The guard clears his throat, glancing around as if hoping for assistance. “Oh, um, I don’t think…”
I titter a laugh as I pull my press ID out of my bag. “Oh, I’m sorry. Hiroshi is expecting me. I was out with him and Deanna last night for dinner at DiMaggio’s, and he invited me to havea look around his incredible facility.” Thank you, Connor, for the info. Apparently, the Red-tails manager goes to the high-end Italian restaurant every week with his wife. Even if this guard isn’t aware of the head coach’s routine, using specifics always makes a story more believable. “He said he’d meet me at the clubhouse,” I add with another smile.
He looks at my ID, looks at me, back at the ID, and then scratches the back of his neck. He’s wearing a wedding ring, which explains his discomfort and tells me I need to choose a different tactic. Subtle flirting isn’t going to be enough.
I put my hand on his arm, leaning in close and giving him a sultry look. “Maybe you could show me the way, handsome?”
His eyes grow wide, and he shakes his head wildly, fumbling for his key card. “No, I’m sure Mr. Fujimura will be easy to find.”
Good man. I do feel bad about making him so uncomfortable, but it got me into the facility, which is exactly what I need. I head straight for the clubhouse, figuring I’ll start at the training room and go from there until I find Houston. I’ll have to find the manager at some point, just in case the guard comes asking if we found each other, but I don’t plan on hanging around for long. I just need to let Houston know that I’m here and digging, and he’ll hopefully be less on his guard when he’s at home. If I can strengthen the differences between Tamlin and Darcy, he’ll trust Darcy more.
I hope.
A wolf whistle pulls me to a stop, and I turn to find Sean O’Donohue undressing me with his eyes as he heads to the parking lot. The shortstop got traded by the Marlins last year for poor conduct and has been nothing but trouble from the day he got signed three years ago. I think the Red-tails took him on because he’s a vacuum cleaner when he’s on his game, but theydidn’t play him a single game this season. I wonder if he’ll see the outside of a dugout anytime soon.
I say nothing despite his leers, letting him gawk at me as he walks until he slams straight into a pole and topples to the ground. I snort a laugh and keep walking. Serves him right.
I find the training room easily enough, and though a few players notice me right away, most of them keep working, which is impressive. In my experience, not a lot of athletes would have this kind of focus so soon after a victory. There’s a reason the Red-tails have won two Series in the last eight years, and it has everything to do with the dedication inspired by their team captain.
Houston Briggs.
This is one of maybe three MLB teams that has a captain this year. I could probably ask any of these guys why they’re so dedicated, and they would credit it to Houston. Yeah, the coaches do their part, and the Red-tails manager is one of the highest paid in that position for a reason. But this team is more unified than most, which makes me wonder yet again why Connor is so determined to find something on Houston.
I wince a little as my mind jumps back to the way he held me on the back patio my first night here. I need to make some kind of separation, or lines are going to blur. Here, when I’m Tamlin, he needs to be Briggs. Not Houston, the guy who thought he could make restaurant food look homemade by putting it on a plate.
Thankfully, Hou—Briggscomes out of the team physical therapist’s office pretty soon after I enter the gym, and he catches sight of me immediately.
His whole stance changes, tensing like a cat ready to spring as he lets out a curse. “What are you doing here?”
I smirk. Oh, hereallydoesn’t like Tamlin, and his glare is in such contrast to the way he looked at me when he broughtover breakfast yesterday that it’s almost funny. “Just hoping for a little glimpse at the Red-tails’ preparations for next season,” I say casually before looking around at the guys who are unabashedly watching us. “Gomez, you’re looking leaner than last year. Nice work. And Hopkins, you may want to ease up on the bicep curls if you want to keep your range of motion.”
Murmurs pick up around the team as I turn back to Briggs, who looks murderous. The best part is he clearly knows I’m right about Hopkins, which seems to drive him crazy as he looks at the first baseman.
