Page 83 of Wild Catch
The thing is that I didn’t want anyone to see me sauntering into the admin area, beelining for Rose’s cube the way I am. That’s too… boyfriend-y. And I’m not in the mood to be teased.
Predictably, the marketing office is empty. I park myself on her chair and note that it doesn’t squeak. I’m glad she has a sturdy one that won’t leave her on the floor all of a sudden.
Unzipping the bag, I extract the two things I left at the top—a small chocolate box and a blank purple card. I pluck the latter and look around her desk for a pen. It takes little effort, since she has a mug stuffed with pens and pencils. I grab a random one and start writing.
I pause because it feels weird to write in purple ink.
She won’t mind, though, not when literally this whole tiny space is decked in that color.
“At least she’s easy to please,” I muse to myself.
Rose,
I’m sorry about the mess last night. Your things are in the black bag under your desk. Hope the chocolates make up for things a bit.
Logan.
I stare at the note. I can’t help but cringing at how cutesy my handwriting looks with this pen. And of course cheap chocolates from the drugstore don’t compensate for shit. She should sue me for the emotional distress my parents put her through last night. Or at least send me an invoice for the dinner.
Hastily, I fold over the note and tuck it under the chocolate box. It’s unwrapped, so she won’t think I’m hitting on her or something. That would definitely send her running for the hills. Who in their right mind would want to go out with such a messed up guy?
I tuck the bag under her desk so it can’t easily be seen by anyone passing by, and beat it all the way to the locker room. I’m going to do a light workout until people start arriving, and hopefully that’ll reset my brain until I’m forced to be social.
*
A couple of hours later, I sit at the back of the room behind the rest of my teammates for a meeting with the manager and coaching staff. But where I expect Rob Beau to kick it off with the highlights and lowlights of the last series, as usual, he catches me off guard with a different topic.
“Gentlemen and lady,” he says, tipping his hat toward Hope, who stands near the end of the staff line. “As you are well aware, trades are already happening all across the league.”
I’m calm. Beau wouldn’t break the news that I’m seeking one when I haven’t told anyone myself.
Well, anyone other than our social media manager, who is surprisingly tight lipped for someone whose living is made off broadcasting stuff online.
“And if you take a look around, you’ll notice that some of your teammates are missing.”
There’s definitely not thirty nine guys sitting in front of me. We’re missing Stewart, left outfield, one rookie and one call-up from the minors. As the rest of the guys take stock of their surroundings, the realization starts to hit them.
“Ah, shit! He didn’t even give me a heads up,” one of Stewart’s buddies says.
“Who’s next? Starr?” another wonders. “Because if he goes, we’re toast.”
“No, we’re real toast if Kim bounces,” a third adds.
That makes a few of them turn back to make sure I’m still here. Thomason, one of the young pitchers, visibly sighs in relief.
The conversation snuffs out as Beau’s voice rings again. “We have traded Stewart and Gonzalez, plus a draft pick, and sent Harrison back to the minors in order to make what is no doubt the best acquisition of the season.”
My eyes widen slightly. That’s high praise from the most level headed and strict manager I’ve ever worked with. Every guy in this room is constantly on a quest to get a crumb of Beau’s interest—forget scoring such compliments from him. That’s basically a unicorn.
So who the hell did we acquire? Babe Ruth himself?
Beau nods toward the end of the line, and the last staff member reaches for the door to open it. We all—and that includes myself—crane our necks to get the first glimpse of this mythical acquisition.
Someone at the front drops back on his ass. Another drops an earlywhat in the actualand someone else whistles.
Since I’m all the way at the back, I get on my feet and try to angle myself for better view, but everybody’s doing the same damn thing and soon, I have even less visibility than before. All I know is that everyone is losing their collective shit and that freaks me out. I don’t know that many players who can cause a reaction like this, but one of them is definitely my asshole brother.
Except that out of all the seasons he’s had the chance to do this just to spite me, he never has. So why would he trade over here now? And especially when Cade Starr is proving himself to be the dark horse of the season, enough to rival Lewis.
