I needed someone that wanted to stick around for me.
Chapter Nine
Beckett
“Hey, you free for lunch today?”
My older brother’s voice filtered through the stack of tasks I was compiling in my head while I sorted through an even bigger stack of papers and folders. I looked up at Lennox. “No, actually. Somebody’s working me to the bone.”
His hand waved at his chest. “Who me? I’m not your boss.”
“Well, your boss is working me to the bone. No time for lunch today. I’m leaving at three, and I have to get all of this crap sorted and filed before then.”
Lennox let out a low whistle and made a show of examining my workload. “That’s not going to happen. You definitely don’t have time for lunch. I’m not even sure you have time for supper. Or tomorrow’s lunch for that matter.”
I lifted my focus from the tottering papers to Lennox. “You’re not helping.”
His answering smirk was all I needed to see.
I let out a slow breath and wrestled my reaction under control. It wouldn’t do me any good to bark at Lennox and then get pegged as the office’s new pet. I didn’t want people to know I was the little brother with special privileges. I might be related to one of the junior partners, but I didn’t get special privileges. And I didn’t get the job because of my connections.
Or at least only because of my connections.
I had a great work ethic, damn it. And a small, but growing resume. And I deserved this unpaid internship that made me work way too many unpaid hours for way too little appreciation just as much as any of the other unpaid interns.
Lennox leaned over my cubicle wall, smelling like expensive cologne and pricey suits, aka Eau de Douche. “Why do you have to leave by three? Does Mr. Morrison know you have to leave by three?”
I dropped my attention back to my work and ignored his first question. “Yeah, I cleared it with him when I started.”
“You have an appointment?”
“No.”
“A meeting?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“For nothing.”
“What kind of meeting is more important than your job?”
I met his stare. “First of all, this isn’t a job. A job implies I get a paycheck. I don’t get a paycheck here. This is an internship. And while it’s a good one, I’m still not getting paid.”
His shrewd eyes narrowed. “Okay. So then what’s this meeting for?”
“It doesn’t concern you.”
“Is it like a religious thing? Are you like in a doomsday cult now?”
“No.” I glanced up at the ceiling. “And I’m not sure that happens at a meeting.”
“Cancer?”
“You think I have a cancer meeting? Do I have cancer? Or do I just go to meetings where other people have cancer?”
Undeterred, he guessed, “AA?”
“That’s anonymous.”
“Boy Scouts of America!” He pointed his finger at me. “Girl Scouts of America!”
“Is that an insult?”
“Dude, come on. The suspense is killing me.”
“I can see why they made you junior partner.” I leaned toward him and dropped my voice. “Cream of the crop, you are.”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
I snorted. “Don’t be so nosey.”
One of his partners walked by causing Lennox to straighten up and take a step back. It was my turn to smirk.
Lennox dropped his voice. “I’ll find out why you’re cutting out of here early, Becks. Don’t think I won’t.”
I shook my head. “I don’t care. Either way.”
His frown told me that he did though. And I’d kind of lied to him. I did care if he found out. I had talked to Mr. Morrison about leaving at three today to take care of paperwork and what not for the coaching gig, I’d secured. But the rest of the week, I should be good.
My internship was only three days a week, and my coaching job could work around them, plus Saturdays once preseason started. And then there would be the travel when the actual season started.
But so far, I could make both work and that was good. I just needed to keep it from Lennox or he would open his big mouth and tell everyone that I hadn’t given up baseball after all.
And then they’d all look at me with pity, like they had at the end of last season when I’d decided not to try out for the minors. My dad would say something like, “I thought you decided to give all that up, son?”
I didn’t need that today. Or tomorrow. Or really any day ever.
Looking down at the stack of papers I was supposed to digitally transfer and then re-file, I let out a long sigh. I was supposed to give up baseball.
That was the plan.
Play baseball through college, then get a real job. A substantial job. A job that would last.
So if this was the kind of job I’d been working toward for years, why did I hate it so much?
I’d only been here a week, it should at least still feel new and exciting. I should be considering all the possibilities and potential growth. I shouldn’t hate it yet, right?
I played with the cell phone in my pocket. Maybe it was just the work. This was tedious and beyond boring. If they gave me something challenging, then I’d be interested in this line of work.
Except, I didn’t even think Lennox had worked up to the interesting stuff yet. I was pretty sure his job description used words like mundane, routine and vanilla in his online profile.
Or at least synonyms of those words.
I gave into temptation and pulled my phone out. Swiping the texts and updates I wasn’t interested in out of the way, I pulled up Britte’s number and tapped out a quick: I’m craving Thai food. What does that mean?
Three minutes later, she replied with a snarky, That you’re pregnant??? Congratulations!!!! That explains the belly bump.
I smiled at my phone. And why I missed my period this month.
Seriously, you should get that checked out. They’ll want to start you on prenatals stat.
God, I love it when you talk nerdy.
You’re a dork.
Maybe, but she was texting back, so apparently, she liked the dorky side of me. Let’s go out again.
It took longer for her to respond this time. I set my phone down and got forty-five minutes of work done before it started blinking with the text notification.
I have midterms coming up…
Undeterred, I tempted her with food again. I’ll let you pick the ethnic restaurant this time. Ethiopian? Vietnamese? Uh…Antarctican?
Antarctican? What do they eat?
Penguin. Polar bear. Elf. All the usual endangered species that live near the North Pole.
Oh my gosh, so much of that is just…wrong.
I laughed, realizing Antarctica is by the South Pole, not the North. But whatever, she didn’t say it in her text, but I knew she was laughing too.
Another minute later, she sent, When?
Now I was stuck because for the next few days I was pretty busy. I wanted to see her. More than anything. But I had work and coaching stuff and night classes and homework. If I would have had time for her, I would have made time. But I wasn’t even sure if I was going to sleep at this point.
Saturday, I told her instead, making it seem like I would give her prime dating real estate.
I have to work.
How late?
Till close…
Damn. How about Sunday?
Realizing that I’d have to gear up for another crazy week, I added, Afternoon?
I’m working then too.
Sunday night then? I’d probably regret it come Monday morning, but then it would be worth it, wouldn’t it?
Hell, yes.
Just dinner. I have classes Monday morning.
I have to work Monday morning too. So just dinner it is. Where are we going?
While I waited for her response, I pictured her staring at her ph
one, nose wrinkled, eyes lined in some funky color. I suddenly regretted pushing her off till this weekend. Sure, I was trying to do the responsible thing, but now I just wanted to see her.
Besides, when had the responsible thing been any fun?
I’m going to think about it. She finally replied. I’ll come up with something good.
Just remember I’m morally opposed to eating penguin. Polar bear is okay. But no penguin.
I’m just impressed you’re morally opposed to something. I didn’t think you had it in you.
I frowned at my phone because I knew she was serious. Still, in the text, I played dumb. Opposition?
No. Morals.
Oh, woman. I’m full of surprises. See you Sunday.
Deciding I would not respond if she texted again, I tucked my phone into my pocket and focused on work again.
Or tried to.
Britte’s last few text messages bothered me. Not that I was mad at her, but I could feel her honesty through the distance. She didn’t think much of me. This was a problem since I wanted to take things further with her than witty text messages.
To use the baseball terminology I was so familiar with, we were sitting in the dugout, and I needed to start hitting some bases, or I was going to lose my mind.
Or my balls.
One or the other.
At least she had started agreeing to go on dates with me. That was a step in the right direction.
I hoped.
The rest of the day went on as smoothly as could be expected. I wasn’t awesome at the internship yet, but that would come. I first needed to learn more about the business and procedures and what they expected from me.
Most of my job entailed my ambition. I could see why it would be such a great opportunity for someone motivated to succeed. The problem was, I wasn’t motivated to get a full-time job here.
In fact, every time I thought about getting offered a position here, I would magically become unmotivated to do anything for the next hour.
I imagined my life like Lennox’s, and it made me feel queasy. Which wasn’t the natural response when you took in all his nice shit and his global travel and his whatever else his nice job could give him. I should want that. That was what grownups did. They grew up. They became something better. They made decent money. And lived fulfilling lives.
Only I couldn’t make myself believe that life would be fulfilling for me.
It was freaking me the hell out.
I’d been accused my entire life of being immature. By my brothers, by my sister, by angry females that wanted me to commit to relationships I wanted no part of. Even my parents had hinted at it lately.
I was doing everything I could to prove everybody wrong. I’d gotten the internship. I’d made it work in my busy schedule. I was kicking ass at school. I had my own place. I had found a girl I wanted to be monogamous with. At least for a while.
That hadn’t happened since high school.
All of the pieces for my mature life were lining up, and yet I couldn’t make myself believe I wanted any of it.
Least of all the job that would make me feel so…responsible.
There had to be something wrong with me.
Maybe I was the immature jackass I’d always been accused of. Maybe I couldn’t settle down or grow up or adjust to adulthood.
Or maybe this just wasn’t the life for me.
My parents were super successful. Lennox had gotten lucky, but he’d turned it into success. Even Grayson was showing signs of pulling his shit together. So now it was my turn.
All I had to do was go hard at this job and prove myself. The rest of my adult life could be set up for me.
So why couldn’t I do that?
Why had I spent the whole day thinking about my meeting with coach this afternoon and the possible responsibilities he was about to hand over to me?
When I looked at the next fifty years laid out in front of me, why was it surrounded by metal bleachers with dirt and grass beneath my feet and the game in my blood?
I had to give it up.
I had to say goodbye to baseball.
That was the right thing to do.
The responsible thing to do.
So, why did I feel like stabbing my eyes out with my stack of perfect paperclips on my perfect desk at my perfect dream job every time I tried to give myself this pep talk.
At 2:55 pm, I set my work down for the day, grabbed my shit and headed for my car. I’d thrown a change of clothes in my backseat just in case I felt like changing, but since this was still technically an interview, I decided to keep the oxford, tie, and wrinkle-free pants. I even straightened my tie.
Coach is going to think I’m so pretty.
The drive to campus took longer than I wanted it to, but I still made it by 3:30.
Three of the assistant coaches and Coach Benson were waiting by the time I walked through the door to the game room. They were all sitting around a conference style table, heads bowed over stats and figures from opposing teams.
Coach took in my suave appearance and grinned at me. “You don’t have to get gussied up for us, Harris. Grab a polo on your way out today.”
I laughed and walked to the table. “I was at my internship earlier. They expect me to gussy up every day. But I’ll be happy to change as soon as I walk out their door.” My fingers automatically found my collar and unbuttoned the top button and loosened my tie.
I stretched my neck and enjoyed the cool air on my stifled throat.
“Internship, huh?” the defensive pro, Coach Haney, asked suggestively.
“With a marketing firm,” I explained. “I had already committed to it before Coach approached me about this position.”
“Treacher quitting was a surprise to all of us,” Coach explained. “We’re in need of a good pitching man. Figured you’re the best I knew.”
That couldn’t have been true. This was a big enough university that coaches around the state, maybe even further, would have been lining up for the job.
I also didn’t realize I was the pitching coach. He’d said assistant coach. But I’d heard, assistant to the assistant coach. Surely, he wouldn’t give me this job. I had no coaching experience. At all.
And at the moment, I couldn’t even remember how to pitch. Maybe it was nerves. Or maybe I was having a stroke. But suddenly I felt like, baseball? Do you play that with your feet?
“Don’t look so nervous, Son,” Coach ordered. He had my attention all over again. “Santos is going to have the official position this season,” he explained, nodding to one of the other long-time assistants. “But if you’re up for it, I want to eventually hand it over to you. We’ll get some experience under your belt, teach you the ropes, see how you handle the guys you used to play with, and in a couple of years, the guys you are helping recruit, and then we’ll give pitching to you.”
The world seemed to tip upside down. I couldn’t believe it. “You’re grooming me?”
“It pays shit,” Coach continued. “At least, the first few years. You’re going to have to look at the big picture to find any kind of dignity in it.”
My slow-stretching smile reached from ear to ear. “Are you trying to talk me out of it?”
“It’s not an internship in a big, fancy marketing firm. This is grunt work till it ain’t. You got it?”
The smile didn’t disappear. “Now you’re just flirting with me.”
Coach finally smiled. “Harris, I’m putting a lot of faith in you kid. I’m going out on a limb because I see potential. Don’t let me down.”
I sat back in my chair, acting offended. “Have I ever?”
Benson snorted, but one of the other coaches mumbled, “We just won’t talk about the championships last year.”
It was said in jest, and I found that I didn’t hate being reminded of our eventual loss after a freaking amazing season. It was one of the reasons I knew I had to quit baseball. Those last few games had been brutal, and I just hadn’t had what it took.
Even worse was giving up the future I’d wanted so desperately.
But this? This was like a rebirth.
Or something.
At the very least it was a second chance to do the thing I loved most in this world. Grunt work or not, my hands would be dirty, and my feet would be tired, but I would get to hold onto the last few pieces of a dream I thought was dead.
There wasn’t anything better than that.
Coach dove into an explanation of what they were doing and how I could help. They showed me around the offices, a side of the locker room I’d never really had any privileges to before now and he hooked me up with some logoed polos. Tomorrow I would have to fill out the necessary paperwork, but as of today, I was officially hired as an assistant coach.
With minimal responsibilities.
And it was awesome.
I left that night close to eight o’clock. I got in my car and immediately wanted to call or text someone to share the good news, but I stopped myself.
My family would just get all down my throat, and I didn’t feel comfortable telling the other guys I’d played ball with. I wanted Coach to break the news to the ones I’d be coaching. And the others might not think it was that cool.
By the time I pulled into my apartment complex, I had already decided there was one person I could tell. One person I couldn’t actually wait to tell.
Something really cool happened today. I texted Britte as soon as I’d shut the engine off.
By the time I’d walked through my door, she’d texted back. Do I get to know what it is?
I started to type the words, but they looked so anticlimactic in a text. So instead, I told her, I’ll tell you Sunday.
Her response was immediate. I can’t believe you’re going to make me wait after all that!
It was kind of cruel. And my lame text back of Lol… didn’t help.
I was surprised when I got one last incoming text from her. Even more surprised when I read what it said.
Whatever it is, I’m happy for you, Beckett. You deserve cool things. All the cool things.
I grinned like an idiot at my phone when I ended our conversation with, You too, Britte. Like dinner with me Sunday. You deserve that.
Bet on Me (Bet on Love #2) Page 11