Page 44 of Wild Catch
Tom’s eyebrows lift. “Is that so?”
Meanwhile, my direct boss smiles in a very memeable way. Kind of amused but evil in equal measures. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I can’t promise anything.” I lift my hands in defense. “All I can do is try but I’d really like to do this in person, and the team is traveling tomorrow so…”
“This can wait a few days. But…” Tom pauses to rub his jaw like it hurts. “You’ll have to post something on social media in the meantime that reminds people of you two. Keep them reeled in while giving them a hint that there’s more to the story.”
“I can do that.” I don’t know how but there’s no way I’m backing away now. “I’ll re-splice the footage in a new way, and even if Logan really flat out refuses to collaborate, we’ll at least get one last viral video out until we find the next focus.”
“Sounds excellent.”
“We’re counting on you, Rosalina.”
Welp, no pressure then.
CHAPTER16
LOGAN
There’s nothing intrinsically odd about Mena—I mean, Rose, was it?—waiting outside the team bus to greet the players. The thing is that normally she records our descent from the bus on her phone, maybe asks a few silly questions of the get-to-know-the-player variety, and potentially high fives the willing guys who are by far the majority.
This time around there’s only some high fives and no camera, and she zeroes in on me like someone who just sighted their suitcase on the conveyor belt at baggage claim.
I check over my shoulders, but there’s no one around me that would typically produce such a stubborn look on her pretty face.
She starts striding over as I join the line of players and staff to retrieve my suitcase from the trunk at the bottom. I keep her approach in my field of vision, but pretend like I’m not paying attention in case she actually was sending that hostile look at someone else.
Except that she stops right beside me and says, “Hey, Logan. Can I have a moment with you?”
And of course one of the stooges that calls himself a professional baseball player hears this and says in a sing-song voice, “A secret lovers rendezvous?”
I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. And pin him with my patented I-collect-teeth-for-fun look. “One more word out of your mouth and I’ll make sure you can’t eat solids for a month.”
The clown makes a zipping motion over his mouth but it’s too late, the damage is done. An avalanche of wolf whistles and laughter ensues.
Clapping of the annoyed variety starts behind me, followed by Hope’s voice. “C’mon. No need to make your jealousy hold the line. Get your suitcases and go—home or to find a date, I don’t care. Chop chop.”
My head turns by reflex and I meet Rose’s amused eyes like we do this all the time. It sends a jolt down my spine and I clear my throat. “I best get my bag before the scary trainer scolds me.”
“You do that,” Rose plays along with a serious manner. “She can be terrifying when she wants.”
“Hey, I heard that,” the alluded tosses over her shoulder as she passes us, fully skipping the line. We all let her because, yeah, Hope Garcia is the strictest trainer. She won’t even let her boyfriend eat pizza ever since the season started.
The social media manager camps on the sidewalk for a few minutes while I join the luggage retrieval fray. Meanwhile, I rack my brains trying to figure out what she wants to do with me now. Is she still pissed at me? Because I already admitted that I acted like a jerk. Verbally. With witnesses. So what else is going on?
“Hey, Kim,” a familiar voice calls out me while I shrug on my travel backpack. I turn to face Rivera with a cocked eyebrow. “Behave.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
But then he uses his lips to point somewhere behind me. When I turn over my shoulder, I spot Rosalina Mena still watching me. Her arms are folded and she’s tapping her sneaker on the concrete impatiently.
Facing the shortstop again, I ask, “What the hell do you mean withbehave? When do I ever not behave?”
“Hmm.” His mouth curves like he’s an old man thinking about his bills. “True. Maybe in your case I should tell you to misbehave. But like a gentleman. Know what I mean?”
“Literally I have no idea what you’re yapping about. See you in two days.”
Huffing, I break apart from the waning mass of players. I don’t follow their pattern of beelining from the bus to their respective vehicles. Rather, I walk over to the social media manager waiting for me.
