by Ana Shay
I typed it out and sent it before I could think about it anymore. My brain was tired and needed a break. As I sat on the train, I closed my eyes to get some shut-eye, making a mental note to myself to save up some more money to buy a new mattress. When the train is more comfortable than your bed, that’s saying something.
Chapter 14
With my elbows resting on my knees, I sit in the locker room while the rest of the players pass me by, patting me on the back. Things are looking up because we’ve finally broke our seven-game losing streak. I was getting nervous since Atlanta was gaining on us, and we can’t lose to them now that we’re halfway through the season. I batted in another three runs, which was all it took to win today and the series.
I wanted to celebrate with Cali tonight, but I’m still waiting for her to respond to one of the five messages I sent her today. Her text response has been lackluster, to say the least. If I didn’t know how busy she was with work, I’d think she was avoiding me. I toyed with my phone and checked my screen one more time just in case I missed her message. Still nothing. I can’t hide the disappointment because I wanted to surprise her with a rooftop dinner under the stars tonight. My next game isn’t until tomorrow night which meant we’d get to spend the night together, and all I want is to spend some more time alone with her. Preferably naked, but I’ll take fully dressed at this point.
Stopping myself from calling her, I placed my phone on the bench next to me. She’ll respond when she has a free minute. She always does; even if it’s just a couple of words.
As the locker room door opens, cheers and chants echo throughout the room. Catty rushes through, looking tired and with an extra limp in his gait. With all that extra work he did to hype up the crowd against Atlanta today, I’m not surprised he’s worn out. A couple of times, I saw him sprinting up and down the seats, riling up the crowd when we were close to a run, and I winced. We have to do that during practice without a costume on, and it’s tough. Wearing that must make it ten times worse.
Austin put a hand to Catty’s chest, stopping him before he could slither away. “Hey, Catty.” He said with that deep voice of his. “Do you remember the other night you painted me when I scored that three-run homer?” He asked earnestly. Catty nodded. “Do you still have it? Some girls on Instagram are going crazy for it. They’ve asked me to send it to them signed.” His cheeks pinkened, knowing the whole locker room could hear his request. This is Austin’s first year in the league and to say he’s getting attention from the lady fans is an understatement. They seem to love his light green eyes and dark hair, or maybe it’s the fact he’s built like a linebacker. I don’t know. Either way, my title as team heartthrob has been taken. And that’s fine by me. The fewer ladies chasing after me, the better. Cali has made some unsubtle remarks about the attention, and I’m happy for anything that makes it easier to get on her good side.
Grayson waltzed into the room with a towel slung around his waist, his tall frame dominating the space. “You want to be careful with those girls, Rookie.” He holds the towel across his neck, heading to his locker. “You give them your signature, and they could use it on all kinds of things. Fake checks, leases on homes, paternity tests…”
Austin looked nervous for a second, and I rolled my eyes, “Ignore him, Austin. Grayson’s just bitter because he can’t get a woman who isn’t paid interested in him.” Grayson is the last person Austin wants to take dating advice from. If you look up ‘Dash and Go’ in Urban Dictionary, his face is there. Smiling smugly like a crocodile who just caught a chicken.
Grayson smirked. “Is that what you think I do? Pay women?” There’s a silence that answers the question. He chuckles, “Believe me, I do not pay any woman to sleep with me. We have an arrangement, and they all leave perfectly satisfied.”
“Ever the romantic.” I deadpan.
“So, do you have it?” Austin asked Catty again, who had been standing there listening to our conversation. Catty bowed his body, fin on his head, and shook it remorsefully. “Ah, it’s okay, Catty. Next time, could you save it for me?” Catty nodded with the enthusiasm of a toddler. “Thanks, C,” He said, patting the fish on the shoulder. Do fish have shoulders? That sounds like some crazy fact that Cali would know the answer to. I absentmindedly checked my phone, annoyed when there was still no message from her.
“What’s got you so tense, T?” Austin asked as he walked past me since I’d been cracking my neck without realizing.
I grumbled out a non-response, too annoyed to explain.
Grayson sat down next to me, drying his hair with the towel that hung from his neck. “Our boy’s just ticked that his little blonde plaything is ignoring him.” My back straightened, and shoulders tensed. “Do you think we didn’t notice you sneaking out of the library trying to find her? Funny, when you came back holding the box of merchandise, she had this dazed look on her face.” He barked out a laugh when he saw my menacing expression. “Save that for the other teams, T. I know you’re soft like a mashed banana on the inside.”
“What’s her name?” Austin asked. He was already dressed, tying his shoelaces opposite me. I looked around, surprised that Catty was able to sneak out of here without any of us noticing.
“Cali,” I mumbled, checking my phone one more time before leaning back against the locker and closing my eyes. Why the hell hasn’t she responded yet? I know she’s been busy and is slow to respond, but this is getting ridiculous. I’m busy too, but I still manage to find the time to text her. It’s been three weeks since she spent the night at my house, and I’m parched. I need to see Cali, touch her, and taste her again.
“Be careful, T. Now that you’ve signed your big contract, a lot of women are going to come crawling out of the woodwork for some of Sorenson’s sausage,” I growled at Grayson, annoyed that he would question Cali’s intentions. Especially since I’m the one that’s been doing all the chasing. Cali seems to be barely bothered by the fact that I’m her favorite player.
He raised his arms in defense. “Hey, we all know what happened with Sam.” My head started spinning at the memory. Why did he have to bring her up? It’s been a year since that fiasco, and I’m still dealing with the fallout. I should have dumped Sam the minute I got to the majors, but I kept her around because I thought it would be easier than breaking up. You know, less drama. How wrong I was. It only served to fit her narrative when we broke it off. She’s been all over those cheap rag mags telling any reporter that will listen that I broke off our engagement, and she had to run into the arms of Theo Leitch, a hotshot football player I introduced her to while we were still dating. She can repeat that lie all she wants, but the reality is, I never proposed, and we broke up months before she allegedly cheated on me with Theo. At least, I think she did. We’d barely seen each other those last few months.
I shook my head, doing my best to rid my mind of the memory. Coach and the GM had to have words with me, and my sponsors were ticked. I hated seeing my face all over the news like that. I got so much press attention; I was asked to represent Baseball in Sports illustrated's Body Issue for a second time. I declined, preferring that my stats were why I got there, not because Sam was touting out information about my Tots. It’s another reason why I like Cali. She’s nothing like Sam, and even though I’m coming on strong, she’s still making me work. She’s taking her time to decide if she actually likes me instead of jumping into bed with me because I’m rich. My money or clout in this organization hasn’t been a factor for her at all. I’m sure she knows I could sort out her work arrangements, but she’s never asked. She’s just a genuine, sweet girl who wants to work hard. How can there be anything wrong with that?
“Sam was a mistake.” I grounded out, gripping my phone harder, refusing to drudge up those details.
“See, Rookie.” Grayson turned back to Austin, baring his teeth. “You need to learn from the old-timer. Women are trouble.”
Austin nodded along, and I’d had enough. I got up, hauling my bag over my shoulder, an
d said my goodbyes. Walking out of the player’s area, I decided to do a little pit stop before leaving for the day.
The stadium's back office is becoming a second home to me, which is funny because I didn’t even know it existed until the beginning of this season. I walked past office spaces; the room was already quiet. Desks were only lit by the little lamps next to the computers. It was past seven, after all. Rounding the corner to her desk, I’m disappointed when she’s not there. The Tate Sorenson bobbleheads stand to attention guarding her space. I saluted them and noticed her phone tucked behind the bobblehead of me dressed in the old Catty costume, flashing away (the phone, not the bobblehead). Well, that explains why she’s not responding. She doesn’t have the thing on her.
I propped my head over the cubicle and looked around. That idiot boss of Cali’s was in his office, lauding about something on the phone, acting like he owns the place. His cackle reverberated through the office as he kicked his legs up onto his desk to relax. What a dick. I still can’t believe they can’t find a pot of money to pay her any kind of salary. Jack Luckson is the worst relief pitcher in the league, and we still manage to pay him one million a year. Yet, she gets nothing. She works more than I do and has nothing to show for it. I contemplated waiting for her. I thought inviting her home for a takeout night might make her feel better, but then her boss comes out.
“Mr. Sorenson,” He said in that suck-up voice he used last time. Great. Cali’s going to be pissed. She’s wanted to keep what’s going on between us private, and here I am accidently announcing it to her boss by rummaging through her desk.
“I just came up here to borrow a pen,” I grabbed the first one I could find on her desk. It had a giant smiley-faced baseball on the end. “See ya,” No way do I want to get into a conversation with that douche canoe.
As I walked out of the office, I decided that I would make it a mission to figure out a way to make this job better for her. Yeah, she says she’s rewarded because she works for the Fish, but I want her to know just how vital she is to the team here too. Without the back office working as hard as they do, no fans would be here.
By the time I got home, it was already past nine. I figured Cali must have left her phone at work since I still hadn’t received a response from her. After eating dinner on my own and brushing my teeth, my phone flashed, and I did my best not to skip over and check it excitedly. Taking my time, my heart settled when Cali’s name popped up.
Cali: Hey Tate. I’m sorry I didn’t respond sooner; I fell over and rolled my ankle. I’m such a klutz. Can we rain check on the dinner? I really want to see you, but I’m feeling exhausted and in pain after today.
Tate: Don’t worry about the dinner. Are you okay? Do you need me to come and pick you up? You shouldn’t be walking on a twisted ankle.
Cali: Already home. Believe me; I’ve done worse than walking on it today! Promise me after your week of evening games; we’ll meet up?
That last message brings a smile to my lips, happy with the confirmation she’s not avoiding me. I would offer to go over and help her, but I don’t want to come off too strong. Or, I should say, stronger than I already am.
Tate: Promise.
Chapter 15
When I opened the door and walked into the room, my whole world stopped. The music may be blaring and children running in all directions, but the only thing I see is Tate.
Perfect.
Beautiful.
Tate.
His butterscotch eyes twinkle as he lifts a little girl up, smiling and talking to her parents. They must be talking about those two homers he scored today, one of which flew out of the ballpark and dinged a fan’s car. He’s leading the league in homers again this year, and I have no doubt he’ll be MVP. If he isn’t, then the voting’s rigged. It’s his year; we’re all just living through it.
As the little blonde girl burrows into his neck, looking bashful, he gives her a reassuring nod. She lifts her hand and whispers something in his ear. When she’s finished, he leans back, looking her in the eyes, and laughs. I can hear his deep throaty chuckle from here. I think my ovaries are bursting watching this display. Suddenly another little boy pulls on his pant leg, drawing Tate’s attention down. He’s at ease, in his element even when he’s talking to kids.
I wonder if he wants kids.
I mean, I know eventually, he’ll probably want children, but judging the way he interacts with them makes him look like he’d be a great dad. It makes me wonder if he’d want them soon. He’s 26 now, and he was serious enough to have a fiancée last year. That must mean he’s thinking about it. My eyes widened. What if he wants a whole team of kids before he’s 30? How would my vagina cope? Worry clouds my mind. I’m only 23. There’s no way I’m ready for children yet. I’ve only just started my career with the Fish. Not to mention the fact that we aren’t officially dating. I need more time. But does he have it to give? He’s ready to settle down; I’m hardly ready to settle on my hair color, let alone a man for life. The closest I’ve ever been to a fiancée is Ricardo at the Waffle Hut. Granted, he had a wife and two kids already, but I relied on that man daily for my waffle needs, and he always delivered. The only reason Tate and Sam broke up was because she cheated on him. If she hadn’t, they might have kids right now, and I might still be pining over Ricardo.
All thoughts leave my mind when the little girl points to me with excitement, and he looks my way. My legs turn to jelly when that smile is directed towards me. I lifted my arm to adjust my hair, stopped by the stupid giant fish head. Because that’s right. Tate isn’t smiling at me. He’s smiling at Catty.
Crap!
Reality sets in. While I’ve been deliriously dreaming about Tate, kids have been tugging at my legs and calling my name. Get it together.
“Hey, Catty.” Tate chirps, holding the little girl in his hands. “I’d like to introduce you to Phoebe. She’s your biggest fan.” Sweat trickles down my back in fear that somehow Tate might know I’m inside. I’ve still not had the balls to tell him I am, in fact, the girl behind the fish. Partly because he talked to Catty about a girl he liked, the one I can only assume is me, and partly because I saw the way he looked at me when I told him that my internship was unpaid. He’s already questioning the hours I put in. Imagine if I told him the majority of my overtime is mainly because I prance around like a fish during home games and charity events.
I wave my fin dramatically, shaking off the chubby fingers holding onto my arms, and feel them immediately grab my jersey in their vice-like grip instead. Phoebe squeaks out a high-pitched giggle. “Catty helped me out today,” Tate said. “We won all because of him.” If my body could melt more in this hot suit, it would. Get it together, Cali! He’s talking about Catty, not you. I bent back, pretending to laugh, and patted phoebe on the head. His gaze flicked around the room. “Where are the rest of the mascots? Phoebe wanted to get a picture with all of them.”
Double crap.
They were supposed to be right behind me. I spun on my heel just in case Tate couldn’t see them. Although side note, if he can whack a tiny ball coming at him at 80 mph, I’m sure he can see three people dressed in furry costumes. Unlike Tate, I have tunnel vision in this costume and can only see what’s directly in front of me because the gills get in my way. When I establish they aren’t in the room, I stomped out of the door, doing my best to hide my ankle injury because Tate texted me about it earlier, and I didn’t want to leave any hints that it’s me under here. I look down the hallway in both directions and immediately spot a crowd of children around the other mascots while their parents take pictures.
Every year, the mascots of all the major teams in Charlotte get together to celebrate the local kids in a Children’s Day event. We invite all of Charlotte’s underprivileged kids over to watch the game and have a dance party after. Even though today has been one of the worst days for working double-time with Josh and my Catty responsibilities, it’s been one of the most rewarding too. The smiling faces and giggles of the k
ids had made it bearable.
During the game, we pulled pranks on the fans and players. Most notably, Chilly the Chinchilla asked Austin to marry him, who said yes, by the way. Then there was a moment when we were all sitting in the stands as inconspicuously as four mascots could and waited for the opportune moment to jump up, throw popcorn in the air, and start a dance party in the stands. The kids loved it even if we got a few grumbles from the parents, picking popcorn off their clothes.
Back to the scene in front of me, Mr. Purrfect had Barry the Crow in a headlock. Chilly, on the other hand, was posing with a couple of children and their parents. It all looked like chaos, and I had no idea how to get their attention. It’s not like I could shout. Mascots talking ruins the effect for the kids. Kind of like them finding out Santa isn’t real for the first time. I can’t scare these kids. Not today. What’s the universal mascot sign for ‘get a move on’? I knew we should have agreed on some mascot sign language this morning.
Walking over to them, I wave my fins and dance in their direct eye line, assuming they have the same tunnel vision I do. They stop what they’re doing, nod at me, and I point my fishy fin in the direction of the party. That’s enough to get them to follow behind as children skip by my side.
My stomach bottoms out when I notice Tate still standing at the door, waiting for me to come back. For Catty. Phoebe clapped while the other mascots entered, basking in the cheers from the other children. I motion them to follow me to the photography area before they have a chance to get sidetracked.
By the time I’ve prepared everyone for the photo with Phoebe, I’ve got Tate’s arm draped around my shoulder and children hanging off every body part, except my whiskers, thankfully.