Page 10 of Small Town Frenzy
Did I just waste years thinking about her when I wasn’t even worth a second thought in her mind?
When she stands back up without an ounce of the irritation that burned hot inside her previously, she hands me the silver pen, then pulls papers from a large envelope. Tapping two different spots on what oddly looks to be a contract, she directs, “Sign here. And then here.”
Guess I wasn’t worth it since she’s moving on like that night never existed.
What-the fuck-ever.
My gaze bounces around the document to catch words likedonationandcontributebut also,no legal standing, andnot an offer of employment. “What is this?” I ask as my eyes dart to the top to find the title.
“It’s the contract saying that any monies earned, raised, or acquired by participating in the game on Thursday is one hundred percent donated to the cause.” Tilting her head as if she’s really done something there, she laughs. “It’s to make sure you don’t go back on your promise and undercut our support for the high school teams.”
I look at her again. The girl I remember, who was sexy and sweet, flirtatious and self-assured in everything she wanted, isn’t the one standing before me now. This womanis smug and has the patience of a ticking time bomb. Her hair is darker, which I’m not mad about. It makes those eyes of hers even more captivating than they already were. But I’m still confused about why she’s here, having me sign a business contract instead of an autograph. When she clears her throat and checks her watch like I’m keeping her from somewhere more important, I realize maybe her self-confidence still tracks. I ask, “But why areyouhaving me sign this?”
“Because it’s my job as oper?—”
“Cricket,” Coach calls out, coming from the locker room.Cricket?The door slams closed behind him. “I’m glad I caught you.”Caught a bug?
“What can I do for you, Coach?” she replies with such syrupy sweetness in her tone. It’s the first time I’m hearing it. The change in her smile reaches her eyes, joy shining bright inside. I’m almost impressed with how fast she morphed from a fangirl demanding I sign something into the pleasantries exchanged with him.Almost.She’s got me more curious than ever about who she is, if she’s whipping out contracts and already in Coach’s good graces.
“Your brother wanted to play in the game, but I haven’t seen him this week for practice. Any word from him?” So she has a brother who plays baseball.Interesting.
“He won’t be here. He’s still in France negotiating deals.”
“Okay.” As if he just notices me, he tilts his chin up in acknowledgment and says, “Hey Griff, good hustle again today. That play in the second inning? Bring that same energy on Thursday.”
“No worries there. I bring it every time I play.” I look at her and then him again. He’s looking at me like I interrupted them, giving me the opportunity to duck out of thisawkward conversation. “I’ll let you guys talk. I need to head out anyway.”
I only take one step before she says, “Not so fast.” She taps the papers again. “You need to sign this, or you can’t play in the game.”
Glancing at Coach, he’s gone quiet on me, making me think this chick is legit. Am I missing the bigger picture of who she is? I turn to her again, taking a longer dive into her eyes this time. “You work here?”
Coach guffaws, then hides his eyes behind his hand. “Oh no.”
She glances at him and back at me. “Nooh noneeded.” She holds a hand up in surrender. “It’s okay.” Shooting me another look, she snipes, “Not everyone in the world knows who everybody else is. Sometimes you mistake them for someone they’re not, and sometimes you hit the nail right on the head.”
I have a strong suspicion that the brief monologue was for my benefit, but I’m not sure why. Until it hits me like the nail she just mentioned. “Okay, in my defense again, you knew who I was but skipped over your introduction each time we’ve met.”Notably, Costa Rica comes to mind.
Coach leans in, and whispers, “Cricket is the Armadillos’ operations manager.”
I release a heavy breath, realizing how this has gone off the rails for both of us. Dragging a hand over my head, I ask, “So this contract is real?”
“It’s real alright.” There’s a pause where I can practically see her mind spinning for a comeback, but then the tension in her shoulders eases, and she says, “We appreciate you coming out to help us raise money.”
The line is so well-rehearsed that she almost has mefalling for it. “I should probably send the contract to my attorney or, at a minimum, read it myself.”
“Probably,” she adds matter-of-factly.
I look over again, my eyes latching onto hers. “That will take at least a week.” I start to skim it. “I’ll take the risk.” It helps to know she’s only here because she was doing her job and not to do any damage . . .at least physically. “Sign here?”
“Yes,” she replies, her expression remaining indifferent. “And although you’re trusting me, against any attorney worth his fee, I’ll give you the quick notes.” When I glance at her, her eyes are already fixed on mine. Before I have a chance to read anything more into it, she blinks and turns her gaze back to the paperwork. “This is the part that states your appearance fee is waived in lieu of a donation being made in your name.” I sign while she keeps talking. “And this paragraph says that the company will match that donation to double it. Two schools. Two donations. We really want to see these teams thrive and create the next generation of players.”
“I was raised on those fields and developed my skills on that diamond in Peachtree Pass.” I sign the other line and hand the pen back to her. “I’m happy to support the teams in return. That I get to play baseball while doing it seems like a no-brainer to give back to the town that gave me the opportunity.”
When she looks up at me, only embers remain of the fire that was burning angry hot inside her eyes a few minutes prior. Even the corners have softened as she turns away to study the paperwork. I’m only given a flash of a glance before she smiles, tearing her gaze away again. “Guess my job here is finished for the day.”
I recognize that smile when it was sprinkled throughout our time together and sandwiched between someunforgiving hour of the night and before the sun rose in the morning. We didn’t know each other at all, but peace was found in our physical connection, and the comfort I felt while holding her in my arms. We had sex, but afterward, she was mine for a brief time.And I was so fucking hers.
Now, I hardly recognize her. It’s not her looks that have changed so much. It’s her openness, the calm she shared through confidence, and our bond. I shake the memories away because it’s best not to dwell on the past. I learned that after my mom passed away.
