Coach takes us outside where we stretch before dividing up and entering the batting cages. I could spend all day in the cage, on the field, or in the gym. I love the thump of a ball smacking into the bat and being sent back in the direction from which it came. I love the smell of the field and the heat from the sun warming up my back. I love the clinking of weights and sweat running down my back. If I could live here, I would.
I put in a full day of work between the training activities and working out in the gym. Once I get home, I start a three-way call between my brothers as I gather ingredients to cook something to eat. Eating out would probably be easier, but it’s not as healthy as what I can fix for myself. When Kevin answers, I finally have both him and Lewis on the phone.
“How are things over on the West Coast?” I ask.
“Same as always,” Kevin says.
“That’s always your answer, Kev. Something new has to happen occasionally. If I asked Mom that, she’d talk for five minutes about what’s going on.”
“I did see some hot chicks when I was surfing this morning. Does that help?” Lewis adds, causing Kevin to laugh.
“Yeah, that makes all the difference.” I roll my eyes even though they can’t see me.
“Have you found any southern belles in the great city of Memphis?” Lewis asks.
“I’ve met plenty, sure. There are a few here in the same complex I’m in, too. I gave a girl a ride this morning and caught hell with the guys because I was a little late.”
“Wait? You were late? Must have been one hell of a ride, brother. I don’t think you’ve ever been late,” Lewis says.
Kevin laughs. “He’s right. She must have been worth it for you to be late.”
“I didn’t bring it up to hear this crap again. She doesn’t drive, apparently, missed the bus, and I took her where she needed to go. I happened to be late because of it. Not something to blow out of proportion.”
“Whoa, hang on,” Lewis starts. “You just drove her somewhere? Talk about bursting my bubble. I’m sitting here waiting for some juicy details and all you did was be her chauffeur. You’re losing your touch, Felix.”
“I was being nice. Maybe if you learned how to be that way, you wouldn’t still be single. I’m not losing my touch, either. If I wanted a girl, I could get one.”
“Sure, Felix, sure. You only want to be married to baseball. That’s why you trekked your ass all the way to Tennessee, instead of staying here in California with your family. But we understand you want a championship and since the Angels have cleaned up their roster, you might actually have a chance.”
Kevin picks up on Lewis’s train of thought. “We miss you, that’s all. None of us want you to be so wrapped up in baseball that you forget we exist.”
“No need to be all sentimental. I’ll jot you into my calendar every week. I always have time for family.”
“Aw, you’re such a little girl sometimes. No wonder you’re Mom’s favorite,” Lewis teases.
We chat for a few more minutes before I hang up. After eating, I change my clothes, put on shoes, and head outside until I reach the sidewalk. I slip my phone into the holder on my arm, put the earbuds in place, and start running once the music begins to play. It’s hot and muggy out, but it doesn’t bother me. As long as I have my up tempo music and a sidewalk in front of me, I’m good to go. One of the first things I did when I moved here was find a running route. I run early in the morning and then again later in the day. My pace changes from a jog, to a faster, steady run, to running as fast as I can and back to a jog again.
I’ve been only five miles when I make it back to the complex. I’m tempted to run the route again like I usually do, but I catch sight of Abigail. Slowing my jog just a bit, I pull out my earbuds and call out her name. She turns just as I reach her.
“Hey.” That’s all I can think to say to her, but hey is always a good starting point.
“You look like a hot mess. I’m going to guess that you’ve been…running, maybe?” she teases.
“Yeah. Do you run?” I allow myself to run my gaze down her body and back up as she laughs.
“Only if zombies are chasing me or if I’m trying to catch Daryl Dixon.”
I chuckle. “Well, that makes sense, but your odds would be better if you ran regularly, you know.”
“I’m not the most coordinated person around. Trust me when I say I’m dangerous walking, let alone running. Thanks for the advice though. How was training? My sisters and brother-in-law are excited for the season to start. You know, the shake up last season took the city by storm.” The roster was cleaned out because of drug usage and all new guys were brought in to replace them. The media has had a field day with it.
“It was good. I think we’ve got a good group of guys, too. I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re not the huge fan your sister made you out to be?” LA acted as if she was all about baseball. She must have thought it would have helped her odds with me if I thought she was a big fan.
“I like baseball and understand it, but they are a bit more overboard than I am. I have nothing against it, that’s what I’m getting at. I guess it’s different for you, though. I mean, you must have been playing since you were walking to be in the big leagues.”
“I played some, yeah, but I didn’t always play. Now, it’s all I do, of course. It’s good for me, so it’s where I need to be.”
“That’s nice. I guess everyone should do something they love. According to LA, you seem to be a skilled pitcher. I’m sure you and all the new guys will be great this season. That is, if the papers don’t keep bringing up last season.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s getting old if you ask me.”
“I’m hoping we’ll be able to give them something new to talk about soon. We’ve got our work cut out for us, though. I guess I should let you go. If you change your mind about the running, let me know. Or, you know, if you want to learn about my other skills, we could do that, too.” I grin and she laughs. I really like her laugh.
“I can tell flirting isn’t a skill of yours because that sucked as a pickup line. Thanks for the ride today and, you know, not murdering me.” She pats my shoulder and walks away toward her apartment.
Damn, she’s right. My line sucked. Maybe I am losing my touch.
SCHOOL. WORK. HOME. Repeat.
That’s been my week and I’m tired. All I want is to go home. I have no classes today and I leave the library early to lie on my couch and watch some bad reality TV and eat fatty-fat pizza.
I unlock my door and my phone begins to ring. I know it’s LA. Her ringtone is Wild Thing because she’s a bit crazy.
“Yes?” I answer.
“I’m picking you up in twenty minutes. Where are you?”
“For what?”
“Harry can’t make the game and you need to come with me.”
“What?” I slam my door shut and drop my bags. “No way. I’m not in the mood for a baseball game.” I don’t care what she says; I’m not going tonight.
“Abby-bear, please come to the game with me. I’ve not missed a home opener in over ten years. I’m begging you.” She’s whining on the phone and I know she’s about to pull out the bribery card. “Abby-bear, I will make you chocolate chip cookies.”
And there it is…damn it.
“Fine, but I will get two beers, one hot dog, and a order of nachos when I get there and you’re paying for it all,” I growl into the phone.
“You know you’re my favorite younger sister,” LA happily sings into the phone.
“Whatever. I’m at the apartment.” I end the call and go change into my Angels shirt.
THERE’S A SEA of red and blue all over the stadium as we shuffle in and head to the concessions. Even though I told LA I was going to order all that food, I didn’t. I got one beer and a hot dog.
We make our way to LA and Harry’s seats. They both are such big fans that they have season tickets right above the dugout. I don’t even want to think the price of these bad boys, but the
y’re some of the best seats in the whole place. We settle in as the team begins to run out onto the field for warm-ups.
As my bite into my hot dog, my eyes catch number thirty-three jogging out, tossing the ball to another player. Wow, baseball pants sure can make me drool.
“Is there a certain player out there that you’re staring at?” LA leans over.
“No,” I gruff at her with my mouth full of food.
“If you would eat that hot dog a little sexier, he might come over later.”
I can’t help the laughter that bubbles up. My sister sure doesn’t pull any punches and I love her for that. “Exactly how can you eat a hot dog sexily? I mean, I don’t think he wants me to bite his dick and chew. Ew.” I shake my head.
“Jeez, I hope he isn’t into the kinky, crazy shit.” LA makes a disgusted face. “I’m saying don’t eat as if you’re trying to win an eating contest.”
This only makes me laugh harder. LA is the only one who can turn my mood around. She never dodges anything. When our parents died and I was in my deep depression, it was LA who eventually slapped me across the face and woke me up. Literally.
After I finish my hot dog, and not look like a porn star doing it, I chug about half my beer as I tell LA about my hectic semester. It’s then I hear someone whistling from the field and I see Felix staring at me.
“Can you catch?” he yells.
“Yes.”
He tosses the ball in his hand to me and I catch it with one hand. “Didn’t even spill your beer,” he laughs.
“I’m a pro.” I wink and watch him, still chuckling, go into the dugout. I rotate the ball in my hand and look at it, and I know LA is waiting for an answer from me. “He saw me last week and took me to school, and then he saw me again later that night and offered to go running with me. That’s all,” I quickly explain.
“And why aren’t you in your short, short running shorts and a sports bra with him every single day? And why the hell am I hearing about this now?”
“I forgot, it’s not a big deal and I’m not a runner, why would I go?”
“Because that’s fucking Felix Hernandez, that’s why.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Look, he seems like a nice guy and that’s it. There’s nothing going on.”
“Gah, I hate you right now.” She crosses her arms and pouts.
“Why?”
“Just because.”
Before I can argue with her more, they call for the national anthem and the first pitch. I’m sure she’ll pout until the seventh inning and then nag me more about it. After the opening ceremonies, where I continue to stare at thirty-three’s ass, the game begins. I watch Felix jog out to the mound.
“Would you look at that? Looks like Felix is pitching tonight,” LA coos.
I ignore her and keep my eyes on the game. Pitch after pitch, I watch the strong arm of Felix strike out batter after batter until they’re running back into the dugout. Each time, he would point at me and wink. Each time, LA would nudge my arm and giggle. She’s definitely isn’t going to let this go now.
Inning after inning, Felix keeps the other team at bay. By the ninth, I’m holding LA’s hand when the last batter comes to the plate. He has to strike him out to achieve a no-hitter. I’m not the only one on the edge of my seat. Everyone in the stadium is quiet to make sure we don’t jinx him or distract him.
Pitch. Strike. Cheer. Quiet.
Pitch. Ball. Moan. Quiet.
Pitch. Strike. Cheer. Quiet.
Pitch. Strike.
The stadium erupts, as do I. I watch the team rush the mound and pick Felix up. He has the brightest smile on his face. The team begins to jog and like he has done all night, he points at me and winks.
LA grabs my shoulders and begins to shake them. “I give you a month before you’re fucking him.”
Just like that…she shows her true colors. I shake my head as we head out to the parking lot.
On the way home, LA goes on and on about Felix and me. There isn’t a Felix and me, but I can’t get a word in edgewise, so I let her keep going. I’ve never been so happy to see my apartment complex. I practically jump from the car and she’s still talking when I shut the door.
Once I’m in my place, I strip out of my clothes and slip into my shorts and tank top. I flip my hair up into a messy bun and scrub off my makeup. I see the baseball that Felix threw on the bed. It must have rolled out of my purse. I pick it up and roll it around in my hands.
Such a crazy night. I grab my kindle and curl up on the couch when there’s a knock at the door. When I look through the peep-hole, I’m not sure what to think.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you and to say thanks,” Felix says with a grin.
“Thanks?” I’m confused. “Why are you thanking me?”
“Because I’m positive you’re a good luck charm for me.”
“What?” I giggle because I must have heard him wrong. The seriousness on his face tells me he isn’t joking. “A good luck charm? I don’t think so. I think it was your hard work paying off. Maybe it’s all the running.”
“You were there. That kind of game requires more than just hard work. You were good luck, I’m telling you.” He smiles.
“Felix, trust me when I say, I’m no one’s good luck charm.” If he only knew how much bad luck races through me, he would run away. “My sister told me that’s your first no-hitter,” I change the subject.
“Yeah, it was.” He pushes his hand through his hair and I see it’s still damp from the shower. “Your sister sure does know a lot about me. Wouldn’t you rather learn about me from the source?”
“Wow, the pickup lines are getting better, Mr. Hernandez, but I’m fine with the intense Googling LA is doing. I’m sure she’s doing it to somehow figure out how to get me to marry you though.” I shake my head and turn my gaze away from him. LA isn’t even here and she’s still embarrassing me.
“I’m always hoping to improve. That was a very good and gentle way of turning me down. Did you at least enjoy the game? You know, as a regular fan and not as a crazed-LA-type of fan?”
I toss my head back and laugh at this correct assumption of my sister. “I will tell you the truth. I had an absolute blast watching the game. I was really cheering for you to get the no-hitter. Although, I couldn’t figure out why you kept pointing and winking, but LA explained that baseball players are very superstitious. Wait, is that why you’re saying I’m your good luck charm? Because I was there tonight?”
“A no-hitter is a huge accomplishment. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you were there. It’s pretty obvious to me that you’re my good luck charm.”
“Wow, laying it on thick, aren’t you? You really believe that because I was there, I ‘helped’ in your no-hitter?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Fine.” I toss my hands up in the air. There’s no way I’m going to go round-and-round with him tonight. “I’ll make you a deal. I will come to the next home game and I will sit in the same seat and you’ll see it’s your hard work and not the fact I was there. Deal?”
Felix smirks and looks me up and down. “If you come and sit in the same seat, we’ll win again. And when that happens, you realize you’re going to have to come to all the home games for the rest of the season, right?”
“You’re serious?” I cross my arms. “You do realize that those are my brother-in-law’s seats. I don’t think he’ll give them up from the season for you to win.”
“If they’re as big of a fan as you say they are, they will. Fans don’t like to see their team lose.”
“He does wear the same pair of socks to every game,” I mumble because I know how big of a fan Harry is. “All right, I’ll bite. I’ll come to the game on Thursday. Any other requirements? Do I need to wear the same underwear, too?”
“Yep. Don’t change anything. Same exact outfit. You should probably order the same food and drink too, just to be safe.”
I roll my eyes. “F
ine. Whatever. I have to go to bed because I have a class at eight. Congrats again and thanks for the baseball.”
“Welcome. Good night, Abigail.”
I SIT IN down in the seat with a hot dog and a beer.
“Holy shit! I’m so excited I can’t stand it.” LA is bouncing in her seat.
“What the hell?” I look at her. “I’m in some type of ESPN blooper reel, right?”
“No, and make sure that you eat that hot dog before the warm-ups are over like last time,” she rushes me.
I sigh deeply. “LA, I can’t believe you’re going along with this.”
“Are you kidding me? When I told Harry about this, he practically threw the tickets at me and grilled me about what I was wearing to make sure that I wouldn’t change outfits for this game.” She holds out her arms and she is wearing the same thing.
“Oh my God. This is insane.” I shake my head and the team comes out to the field.
“Eat the damn hot dog!” LA yells.
“All right,” I say back and eat the food and chug the beer like last time.
When the team begins to head back to the dugout, Felix whistles at me again and holds up a ball. “Can you catch?” he yells.
Is he serious? This is becoming a bit childish. LA shoves my shoulder.
“Yes,” I say back and he tosses the ball. Like last time, I catch with one hand.
“Didn’t spill your beer either.”
I laugh at this game. “I’m a pro,” I say like the time and he winks heading into the dugout.
“Oh shit, this is great!” LA squeals. She actually squeals with delight. I roll my eyes and drink more beer.
Felix isn’t pitching, but I can see him across the field in the bullpen. Well, I can somewhat see him since he’s clear on the other side, but I know that he’s watching me.
Felix (The Ninth Inning #1) Page 2