Page 36 of Wild Catch
A series of gasps follow after that, a second before the first security guy reaches them. “Ladies, I’m afraid I will have to remove you from the premises.”
“But Logan, we love you!”
“We just want to keep you safe from gold diggers.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn my back on them and finally resume my walk to the dugout.
This is when I finally notice the rivers of sweat trickling down my forehead, more profuse even than during the game. Like the stress of that little shitshow was somehow worse than losing a game with a five run deficit.
*
Later, my fuel tank is full of tacos and I’m almost content. I pull away the soft covers of my bed to sink into it, groaning in an R-rated way at the softness of the pillows beneath my head. Now I’m fully content.
Which is why my lizard brain needs to ruin it right away.
This is probably why my therapist says I’m addicted to cortisol. But even knowing that, I reach over to my night table and pluck my phone from the charger. I want to know what people are saying about the game we lost tonight, so I hop onto the social media accounts of the main sports news sources.
It takes some scrolling through posts about other baseball teams and even other sports. Pausing, I pull myself up to sit, letting the sheets slide down my bare chest to my hips, and pick up the phone again. My hair gets in the way so I tuck it behind my ears and there it is, the first video about the Orlando Wild loss.
The commentary starts out fine—harsh, but well deserved. One guy says, “For a team that has been showing some serious grit since Spring Training, tonight’s loss harkens back to the days of Ben Williams on the mound for the Wild.”
“Are you saying that the Wild were a much worse team with Ben Williams as the starter?” A second guy scoffs. “Because Williams is one of the top pitchers in the league right now, so that makes no sense.”
The first one responds, “Maybe. It does seem like this roster plays a lot harder when Cade Starr is the starter, which is really interesting when you think about how he was a relief pitcher for Williams last year.”
“Isn’t it?” I say as if they could hear me. Snorting, I add, “And that’s because you haven’t seen what happens when we bribe Starr with pizza.”
The video continues though, and their conversation shifts to something a lot less professional. “Now, what everyone on social media is talking about isn’t the Wild’s loss tonight, but an altercation that occurred on the stands once the game concluded.”
“Take a look at the footage that a fan captured.”
“What?” I bring the phone closer to my face because right on the screen is the group of drunk women bothering Rose. “Shit.”
I can feel that sweet, sweet cortisol hitting me everywhere, and yet I don’t stop myself from watching.
Sure enough, some random fan in the stands caught the whole thing on camera, complete with peeks at me from below on the field trying to deescalate the situation.
The comments are a ridiculous mixed bag. Some people call me a hero for intervening. Others have made a connection that this is the second time I come to the rescue of the same staff member. The theories are running rampant already—everything from tame, like Rose and I are dating, to some dramedy Kdrama type where I’m Rose’s baby daddy and these are all the women I left for her.
But also mixed in between are comments calling Rose all sorts of nasty names, boiling down to how dare she get my attention. Kind of like what those drunks were saying to her.
I run my hands down my face. Have I screwed over her life when I was just trying to help her?
CHAPTER13
ROSE
Normally I’m pretty well put together for work. I’ll wear a cute and professional dress, but with some personality. Or I’ll pair a fun cardigan with jeans that look way more expensive than they are. I’ll do my makeup and ensure that my curls are the bounciest they can be.
But not today.
Today I look like I crawled out of a trash can.
In my defense, the clothes are clean and I did shower. The issue is that all I could muster was wearing my comfiest gym leggings and a too-oversized sweatshirt with the team logo. I didn’t take the time to do my hair care routine, so I just gathered the mass of curls into a messy pineapple bun at the top of my head. And there’s no makeup, which is the one thing I should’ve really done after a sleepless night.
The culprit is the video that my boss now proudly projects onto the wall for the entire marketing department to see.
“And now here’s the best part,” he says with morbid glee as the camera of whoever recorded this zooms into Logan Kim’s worried face.
