Page 9 of Spotlight
“You too, sir.” I glance at Everly for any hint on what to say or do here, but her face doesn’t give anything away. “What can I do for you?”
Colt waves for us to sit down. His dark skin crinkles slightly around his eyes as he smiles at me. “Sorry for the impromptu meeting. It’s early and I know you have a flight back home in a few hours, so I’ll make this quick.”
I tip my head in a nod for him to go on. My flight isn’t until this afternoon, but I am eager to get back to the woman in my hotel room. Colt takes a few moments, like he’s collecting his thoughts. His expression goes contemplative, and he takes a sip from a to-go coffee cup.
Internally I’m tapping my foot and motioning with my hand for him to get on with it already, but I stay still and silent while he considers his words. I don’t want him to know I’m sweating it. Maybe acting chill makes me seem too detached, but yesterday I was eager and excited, and that didn’t bode well for me either.
“I’m sorry we don’t have a spot for you this season. It wasn’t an easy call to make. In fact, even now I’m sitting here wondering if I made the right decision.” He narrows his gaze at me like maybe he’s about to change it now. Hope fills my veins, and my pulse quickens.
I can’t put into words what it would mean to me to pitch for the Renegades. They’re my dad’s favorite team. His dad, my grandpa that I never met, loved them and passed it down to him, and I guess he passed it down to me. I can remember him watching them on the TV and listening to the games on the radio while he worked in the garage. Putting on that uniform would be a dream come true. It would mean I made it.
“You’re going to be a hell of a pitcher, Flynn,” Colt says in a very matter-of-fact tone.
And just like that, any hope I had is squashed. You’regoing to bea hell of a pitcher. Not,you area hell of a pitcher.
“Thank you.” I’m shocked the words come out as polite and friendly as they do. I’m tired of people telling me I’m not ready, not good enough, not there yet. I’ve been working my whole life for this, and it always feels just out of grasp.
“You’re young with a long career ahead of you. What I need and what you need are at odds right now. I admire you and I’m looking forward to watching you progress, but right now the team needs someone with more consistency and experience. You get a few more seasons under your belt, stay healthy, and work on taming that fastball, and I’ll be one ofmanygeneral managers fighting to sign you.”
“With all due respect, sir, what weneedmight be different, but what wewantis the same. You want a pitcher that will lead you to a pennant and I can promise you that no one wants to stand on that mound again more than me. I know I’m young and that there is still work to do, but I’m ready for it. I will outhustle every other player on your roster. I come from a family of professional athletes so that isn’t a claim I make lightly. You’re right I don’t have a lot of experience, and some might say that makes me a risk, but that’s not how I see it.”
“How do you see it?” His lips part with a grin. He has a gap between his front teeth wide enough that most people would have fixed it with braces. God knows he could afford it. Somehow it fits him though.
With a shrug I say, “I’m going to be the best pitcher in the league. I just need someone to put the ball in my hands so I can prove it.”
His smile widens as he continues to stare at me. I’m not sure how long goes by before he stands. I guess that means we’re done here.
Everly gets up to shake his hand. They exchange a few words that I don’t hear. I’m slower to get to my feet. I meant every word I said. I’m not blowing smoke or saying what I think he wants to hear, but I’d be lying if I didn’t hope that it’d also sway his decision.
Colt shifts his attention back to me and extends a hand. I take it and he grips my palm tightly as he says, “It’s my hope that our paths will cross again.”
Not sure what to say, I tip my head in a nod and manage a small smile for him.
As soon as he’s gone, Everly blows out a breath.
“I’m sorry I dragged you out of bed for that. Nice job, though. You handled it well.”
“Not well enough,” I say dryly.
“We will find you the right team, and Colt and every other team that passed on you is going to regret it. Mark my words.” She’s fiery and gets this look of lethal retribution every time a team goes in another direction, like she’s personally affronted as much as I am. That look and her ability to tell people off in a way that somehow comes across as polite and professional is why I hired her.
I have four older brothers looking out for me, and the truth is I’m not always great at advocating for myself since I didn’t need to that often while growing up. And I’m learning that there is so much formality and hoop jumping in professional sports that I’m happy to let her manage all that and let me do my thing on the field. I just need to find a way back onto the field.
“I’m heading to the airport. Go home, relax, and I’ll be in touch early next week. I have a call with Kansas City and Baltimore this afternoon and a dozen messages from other teams. New York passing means someone else gets the opportunity to sign the best pitcher in the league.”
I don’t know if she truly believes that, but Everly smiles at me, hazel eyes dancing with amusement and determination, and I know at the very least she’s going to operate like she does. That’s good enough for me.
“Thank you,” I say.
With a nod, she turns on her heel and walks across the marble lobby floor toward the front doors. People scurry to get out of her way. God she’s terrifying.
I give myself two more seconds to feel sorry for myself but then I remember there’s a gorgeous woman upstairs in my room.
I take off in a jog toward the elevator and smash the up button with my palm. Last night, she made me forget about everything going on with baseball. I want to go back to that bubble with her.
The doors finally slide open, and I step inside and hit the floor number. I tap my thumb against the side of my leg as the elevator moves at a snail’s pace. It stops at the third floor and a woman with a housekeeping cart smiles politely. I move to the side to make enough space. We stop again at the fourth, but no one is there, then at the fifth for the housekeeper. By the time I get to the eleventh floor, I am vibrating with impatience.
I’m out the door the second I can squeeze through, and I jog down the hall until I come to my room. I pat my pocket for the key, only to realize I didn’t bring it. Instead, I pull out my phone and navigate to the app.
