Page 5 of Wild Catch
“Whatever,” I grunt as I towel my hair. “And if you’re going to make an allegory, at least make it with the proper mascot.”
“What are baby alligators even called?” He scratches his head through wet curls.
“Shoo.” I wave my hand, uninterested in the rest of this conversation.
With one last chuckle, the guy peels himself off the lockers and goes find someone else to bother.
If I was annoyed before he dropped by, I’m even more so after he leaves. I wasn’t expecting to hear that from the most happy go lucky—pun intended—guy on the team. His boundless energy, the pranks, the terrible jokes that range from Dad-level to racy, make it easy to forget that he does have a sharp brain in his skull socket. Rivera noticing that I’m the puppeteer behind Starr’s progress should make my chest swell, maybe even make me join in the revelry.
Not when I’m in conversations to get traded somewhere else.
I hang the towel around my neck to rummage through my backpack until I find my phone. The screen lights up with some texts from Pete Kaplan, my agent.
Kaplan
That was wild—ha!
I could see your price tag going up with every inning
That makes my eye twitch and I stuff the device back in the backpack before any of these hawks can read the texts. I haven’t given Beau or the rest of the staff a heads up about my plans because, well, there are no official plans yet. Kaplan and I are in the very early exploration phase of seeing which teams are looking for a catcher, and the fact that I won’t accept demotions will no doubt complicate the process.
For all intents and purposes, I’m committed to this team and that’s how it’s going to remain until the very last second.
I’m one of the first ones out of the facility. We play in our turf for this series and the next, which is why I’m interested in getting as much rest at home away from the stooges, as I possibly can. Fortunately I have a short drive ahead of me, which is great because I’m hungry.
What’s not great is that there are two people in the way between me and my Paningale V4 R. I’m about to side step them when I pay more attention.
What the hell are Ben Williams and our social media girl discussing about?
I don’t even know if discussing is the right word either. At first I think she’s got her arms folded in annoyance, but as I stare a second longer I realize that’s not the case. Her arms are wrapped around her torso like she’s protecting herself, and Williams is the one who is gesturing around. Angry.
I’m familiar with these body languages. Everyone in my family has adopted both roles a million times against each other.
Sighing, I look down at the helmet in my hands. A comfortable sofa and a nutritionally balanced meal await at home, and all the sounds I’ll listen there are me chewing if that’s what I want. Maybe I can listen to an audiobook. Relax. Disconnect from the world and from my own brain.
Nope. My feet make the call and take me directly to the melee.
Clearing my throat, I stop a few paces from them. It’s enough to get Williams’s attention.
It’s obvious how red his face is even under the streetlights. He’s breathing hard like he was running at full throttle, and not screaming at a woman.
Meanwhile, her eyebrows are drawn and she glares at the former starting pitcher of our team. A curl has escaped to fall over her face and she huffs hard enough to send it back. I was expecting a sign of fear on her expression but I don’t find it. Maybe I could’ve just kept going to my bike and peeled out of here.
But just to make sure, I ask, “What’s going on here?”
“Stay out of this, Kim,” Williams barks.
I click my tongue. We formed a battery for two years. He should know by now that the only one I obey is myself.
“Are you harassing our social media girl?” I ask, going for the nuclear option right away because I’m not one to waste time with pleasantries.
“No!”
“Yes.” I zero in on Rosalina Mena’s response. Slowly, she unfurls her arms from around herself and turns her big brown eyes to me. “You see, Ben and I dated in secret for like a year until I caught him cheating on me. I dumped his ass and moved on. He hasn’t, and apparently he thinks that it’s my fault he’s not getting any action again.” She slides a vicious glare at him.
“It is. I know you took pictures—my security camera caught them! Did you put them on the internet?” he hisses and takes one step closer. “Did you?—”
I don’t even know what in the actual hell I just heard. What I do know is that I’m not going to let this piece of shit get physical. The second he raises a pointy finger at her, I slide in between.
