Page 76 of Wild Pitch
“Excellent! I’ll review the contract, add that clause, and send it back for your signature once they have approved. Hang tight.”
“When’s the thing going to be?” I ask very belatedly, but I blame my addled brain.
“You’re hot in social media trends right now, so they want it to be in a week. We’ll coordinate with the team’s PR to not interfere with your regular schedule.”
“Great.” I don’t know if it’s because I’m weak right now, or because I’m snuggled all comfy, but I let out the sappy Cade that lives inside of me for a second. “Thanks, man. You’re the only one who really looks out for me.”
And that stuns the great Lou DiMarco shark into silence.
Or maybe he’s just so grossed out that he’s had to mute himself so he can gag.
But then he clears his throat. “You’re welcome, kid. Get better.” And he hangs up.
“Wow,” I mumble. By the awkward inflection in his voice, I’d guess he wasn’t grossed out. More like touched. That’s what he gets for being at the top of a very reduced group of people who watch out for me.
Lou, Lucky, my housekeeper Carmen, maybe Garcia? Probably not.
Both Lou and Carmen are in my payroll so maybe they shouldn’t count. But Lou was the only one who caped for me so hard that eventually a team scouted me. Carmen brings homemade food for me, even when that’s not part of her contract. I think this all goes beyond a paper relationship.
Or I just don’t know what the real thing is. I close my eyes. Lucky’s declaration of brotherhood still has me reeling. I had to look up what that even means online but I’m not sure I get it. Like, of course I know how to read—the logic is clear. But the real concept? I have no idea. It wasn’t a sentiment I shared with other orphans I grew up with, maybe because it was always a temporary arrangement.
But one day Lucky and I will play for different teams. Or one of us will retire. Then what? Does the brotherhood go on?
And the same for Garcia. She’ll find her guy soon. Maybe I get traded. Maybe she finds a different job. That’ll be the end of our relationship.
I scrunch my face. What relationship, though? She’s employed by my team to mind my physical health and that of thirty nine other guys. We’re barely friendly now.
So if not people I employ or people I work with, who do I have left?
I swallow hard and turn to the opposite side, my face against the sun. I force my breathing to even, and my mind to focus on the feeling of my sweatpants against my legs, the sheets under my skin, the coolness of the pillow, and nothing else. Being on light duty means I can sleep in a little longer, get to the facilities and train a little less, and I decide to do just that.
*
This time I’m marginally more aware that my phone is ringing because of a call, and not the alarm. I roll over, intending to reach for my bedside table, when my cheek falls directly on my blaring phone.
“Shit.” The sound is extremely annoying this close and I try to move away, but my body feels like lead. I barely manage to lift my head to free the device, or myself, depending on how I may look at it.
My eyes feel even blearier this time around as I try to focus them on the screen. It takes a moment for the caller ID to register in my brain.
Little Darlin’.
Huh?
I answer the call. This time I don’t have the mojo to put it on loudspeaker, so I drop my phone on my face with the receiver on my ear. “Garcia? Why are you calling?”
“Why am I calling?” she shrieks. I wince, but there’s no earthly force that can make me move more than that. “What do you mean why am I calling? Half of the team has been calling you!”
I half groan, half ask, “Why?”
“It’s six in the evening! You never showed up for training. Of course everyone is up in arms.”
“What the—Shit.” Grunting, I pick myself up to sit. The bed sheets slide to pool around my waist and I take a look around. My bedroom is dark except for the faint light of the clock on the wall, and the sliver under the door that tells me Carmen must be around—and probably thinks I’m at work.
“You sound horrible.”
“Thanks,” I rasp out, running a hand through my hair. Grabbing the sheets, I push them away and sadly they don’t go far enough, which is the moment I realize I really am sick after all.
She sighs loudly. “Are you home?”
