“Looked pretty bad.”

“It was bad. But I’ve released a statement to the PR department with all the details.”

“You’re going to make me call Beth Anne when you’re already on the line?”

“You should have called Beth Anne first.”

“It’s a bit early to be making calls to San Francisco.”

“But not too early to call me?”

“You’re in Cleveland. It’s later there than it is in Chicago.”

Emmy chewed on her lip and opened up a new Word document. As she relayed the details of the injury to Simon, she wrote up a report for the GM. Typing Darren’s name into the header, she began to consider what Tucker had told her, how he was worried about being cut from the team by the end of the season.

She didn’t want to think they’d cut him, but she knew as well as anyone how the inner workings of a team operated. Every player, no matter how good they were, was expendable when it all came down to it. Tucker wasn’t young anymore, like he’d said, and though he was doing well this season, it was the first time in many years he’d shown improvement.

Emmy sighed and stopped typing.

“You okay?” the voice on the other end of the phone asked.

Shit, she’d totally forgotten she was talking to Simon. “Yeah, sorry. Long night.” And that was too much information.

“Thanks for giving me the details. It’s always better to have a direct quote than the company line, you know how it is.”

“You know the company line is my direct quote, right?”

“Maybe I wanted to hear your voice.”

“You’re sure you’re not just finally taking advantage of the fact we used to sleep together to get the inside scoop on the team?”

He was quiet. “Maybe.”

“I think that’s fair.” She cradled the phone on her shoulder and finished her report with the notes Jasper had left about a minor finger injury and an ankle sprain. She scribbled a note on a pad of paper to get Tannis to prepare for the ankle.

The room was full of the smell of coffee and freshly laundered towels, and her iPod had started playing “Adult Education”.

“Anything else I should know before deadline?”

The Felons are thinking of trading Tucker Lloyd. God, that would be an epic headline. “Nope, that’s it. Unless you consider a minor thumb strain to be worthy of note.”

“Is it on a pitcher?”

“Center field.”

“Then no.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“Thanks again, Emmy.”

“I’d say any time, but you know you should go through Beth Anne, and I should at least pretend to enforce the rules.”

“I consider myself fake warned.”

“Talk to you later, Simon.” She hung up.

When the phone rang again, it was the GM’s number.