Page 49 of Imperfect Player

Strike two.

The batter thwacks his bat against the ground. I’m not sure if he’s more irritated that he’s got two strikes against me or that I’m smiling about it.

Strike three.

Fox throws the ball back at me with a shake of his head.

Eyes still on Everly every moment I can, I strike out two more batters. Perfect inning.

Sure, I get distracted here and there. But fuck if this isn’t the best game I’ve ever pitched.

Goddamn lucky charm.

It’s not until the seventh inning stretch that I have a moment to actually stop and check in with her. I’ve noticed the butler service, her smile, everything that’s been happening out in the stands when normally I don’t even see them. To me the crowd, the stands, it’s nothing but a blur. My mind is on the ball, the strike—the win.

I reach her, my right hand gripping my mitt, the other holding onto the chain link fence.

“Having fun?”

“Me? Are you? You’re phenomenal out there.”

“Told you that you were my lucky charm.”

“Maybe we should test the theory. Maybe I should go and . . . ”

“No.”

My voice is so insanely insistent that she begins to laugh.

“I didn’t take you for the superstitious type.”

“I didn’t take you for a good luck charm, but here we are. Promise me you won’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll see you after the game. One of the security guards will come get you and bring you back.”

“Back where?”

I don’t answer her, just continue back to the dugout to finish the game.

The eighth inning goes just as smoothly as the last seven. The ninth too.

What a game. What a day.

Final score: nine to nothing.

Fuck, what a rush!

I’m feeling high as a fucking kite, and if I’m honest with myself, it’s not just because of the win. It’s because of Everly.

I don’t really think that she’s a good luck charm per se, but her presence certainly does have an effect on me.

When I walk toward the locker room, Everly is already standing there with her friend at her side. Everly, a woman who lives in a world of pro athletes, looks nervous, while the woman next to her seems to just be soaking it all in. By “it” I mean the plethora of men parading past her.

I don’t even hesitate as I make my way over to them, my arms reaching for Everly, lifting her until her body is pressed against mine and squeezing the hell out of her.

“That game was . . . amazing.”

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