Each inning, I pray that the Angels will lose. However, no one seems to be listening to me because at the beginning of the ninth, we’re up…by six. I drop my head in my hands and groan.
“This is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.” LA is shaking me again.
“Aren’t you supposed to be saying that about your wedding day?”
“Fuck that. We’re going to win the championship at this rate. Aren’t you happy?”
I look at her with the meanest eyes. “Do I look it?”
“Yep, you looked thrilled.” She laughs and I hear the crowd cheer.
The Angels won.
“Son of a—” I growl with my jaw clenched tight. “Let’s get out of here.” I grab her arm and drag her out of the stadium.
I KNOCK ON Abigail’s door. A few seconds later, she opens it. Once again, she’s wearing shorts and a tank top with her hair thrown up in a bun. She looks good, that’s for sure.
“So? Do you believe me now? You’re my good luck charm, Abigail,” I say, folding my arms over my chest and leaning against her doorframe.
“You are so full of it. I’m not a good luck charm.”
“How are you still in denial? You came again and we won again. There’s no room for denial when all the facts are there.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, you’ll be happy to know my brother-in-law, who is now your number one fan, told me tonight that he’s giving up his season ticket to me if you sign a baseball for him. I told him you’re probably too busy.”
“I’m never too busy to sign my name, especially if it helps get my good luck charm to the games. I’ll sign a ball for him.”
“And what do I get?” She folds her arms over her chest as if the defensive posture will come in handy with our apparent negotiations. “I’m going to have to rearrange my schedule. I’m sure as hell not going on any road games. So, what do I get?”
“What do you want? Name it and I’ll see what I can do.” I’m willing to give her whatever she wants because I want to see more of her, especially at my games.
“This is your superstition. I wouldn’t want to break any of your invisible rules of baseball good luck charms.”
I laugh. “I’m sure whatever you ask for wouldn’t interfere with the rules. Do you want free food at the games? Do you want a signed baseball, too? Do you want a signed book by an author you like? What do you want?”
“Hmm…free food is out because I have to have LA buy the beer and hot dog because of the good luck routine.” She rolls her eyes. “Plus, you’ll throw me a ball every time I’m there, so I don’t need any more of those. I have all my favorite books already signed. I guess that leaves,” she taps her finger on her chin and says, “You being my driver while you’re in town until the semester is over.”
I think about it for only a moment. “Okay, I can do that. Do you want to catch a dinner and a movie sometime?”
“Wait…are you asking me out?” Her lips part in shock and her eyes widen.
“Don’t seem so surprised. Yes, I’m asking you out.”
“Oh…well…um…sure, okay, we can do that, I guess,” she stammers over words, but she almost looks upset or disgusted I asked. What the hell?
“If you don’t want to, it’s fine. Don’t say yes, if you really mean no.”
“I’m sorry. No, no, I do. I’m just a little thrown off. Come on, you’re Felix Hernandez and I’m Abigail Harris. I see you with more of the supermodel-type girl and I’m nothing like that. I much better prefer to stay home on Saturday night and read then go off to some celebrity party.”
I laugh. The only other people I know in Memphis are my teammates and now Abigail and LA. What celebrity party does she think I’ll be going to? Where are the supermodels I’m supposed to be dating instead of her? I haven’t seen any. “You know, I never took you as the type to make stereotypical assumptions. But I’ll forgive you this time. Does Saturday at six work for you?”
“That’s fine, but you have to realize that you’re you and it’s not assumption. I know how to Google too and I’ve seen you on the arms of much prettier women than me.”
I smirk, imagining her hunched over a laptop, searching my name. “You’ve Googled me? I feel very honored to have such a beautiful woman search me on the internet.”
“I Googled you once and that’s it. I was actually trying to see if you were listed as the master of horrible pickup lines. Sad to say, I think I may have seen that listed in one of the high-end girly magazines.” Abigail shakes her head. “I guess my good luck only goes so far.”
“Maybe I should add that to my official bio. So, Saturday at six?”
“Fine. I’ll be ready.”
“Great.” I add in my goodbye and walk back to my apartment with a grin on my face. Memphis is getting better and better by the minute.
WITH EVERYONE BEING pretty new, we’ve done a lot of team-building type of exercises. It’s been helpful and fun. However, if there’s one guy I can never get a read on, it’s Blake Foster. As long as I can read him while we’re on the field, I guess it’s not a big deal. He’s a moody guy sometimes, though. Like today. He looks pissed.
I take a seat next to him and ask, “Hey, you all right, Blake?”
“Fucking peachy,” he answers without looking my way.
I leave it at that because I’m not about to piss him off further. Hector turns around from his seat in front of us.
“I think he prefers to be called Grumpy.”
“Turn around and shut up,” Blake snaps, sending him a glare.
Hector laughs and looks at me. “He’ll be better in a few hours. Right, Grumpy?” Blake flips him off, not fazing him in the least. “Hey, Felix. Who’s the girl at the game you keep throwing your balls at?” He grins and chuckles at his joke.
“She’s the reason we keep winning.”
“I thought it was because of my mad throwing skills?”
“That’s helpful, but having her there was more helpful. She doesn’t believe in good luck charms, though.”
This kind of conversation apparently engages Blake. “Seriously?” He turns to look at me. “Like not at all or she just doesn’t believe she is one?”
“She doesn’t think she is one. Do y’all have one?”
Hector pulls a silver necklace from under his shirt, a cross hanging from it. We glance at Blake.
“I don’t have one,” he answers. “I can’t keep anything long enough to have a good luck charm,” he finishes, gazing back out the window.
Hector returns to sitting the right way, and we’re relatively quiet for the rest of the plane ride. It’s not until warm-ups that Blake seems to be in a good mood again. Or at least as good of a mood as he can be. Focusing on the upcoming game, I take a deep breath.
The usual pre-game nerves bounce off the walls of my stomach. I always thought it would go away, being anxious before a game, but it never has. I’m almost thankful for it because it keeps me on my toes. Before I know it, the national anthem is being sung and a ball game has started.
I’ve always loved the sport. My mom used to say I was obsessed. Somewhere along the way, I lost it. When I got the sport back, I became obsessed again. I cherished the game and the opportunity to play. That’s what fuels me every time I step onto the mound to do my best and sort of give my life to baseball.
My mind has a one-track mind to the sport. It’s all about how I throw the ball. The way it feels when I bring my arm back and then fling it forward. My favorite sound in the world is a ball smacking into the catcher’s glove and the following, “Strike!”
Unfortunately, the bases are loaded and I’ve recorded two balls with this batter. I need one more out desperately or there’s a very good chance we lose this game. I inhale the heady clay aroma, briefly close my eyes, and picture Abigail. Maybe she can help from afar. A picture of her flashes in my mind. Brown hair up in messy bun, shorts, and a tank top that showcases a body I wouldn’t mind putting my hands on.
Blake g
ives me his signal after my eyes open. I adjust my hat, take another deep breath, and pitch the ball.
“Strike!”
Thank you, Abigail.
This time, I quickly picture her wearing her Angels t-shirt, sitting in the stands next to her sister. She watches me a lot. I know it’s because I’m playing in the game she’s watching, but her eyes are on me more than anyone else. Blake gives me the same signal. I pitch and hear, “Strike!”
Repressing a smile, I picture Abigail one more time, of how she looked when I first met her. My last throw is a strike. There’s no doubt in my mind, that woman is my good luck charm. I can’t say so for the rest of the team, though. We lose the game.
If I have a crutch, it’s that I hate losing and the days after a loss equate to me being caught up in focusing on baseball one hundred percent. I know losing comes with the territory. I mean, there’s a fifty-fifty chance with every game that we’ll come out on the losing end. Still, a loss makes me analyze my game and try to correct my mistakes. Or at least, work on improving myself.
It’s no surprise I spend Saturday engaged in that loss ritual. Then, I head to the batting cage for an hour before pitching for a while. After that, I hit the gym. I run five miles, and lastly, I head to my favorite masseuse for a massage to help my muscles after such a long day. When I finally make it home, I’m starving.
There’s plenty of food in the fridge; none of it looks appetizing. Salad, leftovers, thawed chicken that’s ready to be cooked. Maybe I should allow myself the guilty pleasure of eating out tonight. With that thought, I grab my keys and head to my favorite fast food restaurant with the plan to bring it back to my apartment and watch whatever’s on the History channel.
I SLAM THE plate into the sink and for a second, I think I may have broken it. I didn’t, but I’m so pissed off. I waited and waited and waited for Felix to show up for the stupid date he made sure I went on with him and the ass didn’t even show up! The sad fact is I saw his car in the lot and I know he’s been home.
All right, I know it sounds like I was being a stalker and I know I should just text him…wait…no, I shouldn’t. He wants this stupid deal, then he should have remembered.
I check my phone for the thousandth time and there’s nothing from him. Only from Annie saying that she’ll be here in ten minutes for us to go to lunch together. I may have called her last night and spilled my guts and some emotions to her. If I’d called LA, she would have gone to his apartment and kicked his door down. I almost wished I had now.
Why do I even care? It’s not like I know the guy, or really like him. Well, I like him because he looks hot in baseball pants, and he knows who James Diamond is, but that’s it. I give up on the dishes and grab my purse to wait for Annie outside.
I’m standing outside my complex when I see him rounding the corner. Shit. Shit. I don’t want to see him. I try to turn to leave, but he yells my name. I take a deep breath and quickly wonder if I should be like LA and scream at him and possibly punch him. Or, be like Annie and be a mature woman.
Gah! This is why I shouldn’t have gone to that damn game. He jogs right up to me.
“Hi, Felix.” I smile and decide to be Annie.
“Hey. How’s your weekend been?”
I smile brightly at him and decide to take the high road. “It’s been the greatest weekend ever. Do you know what I did last night? I sat on my couch for three hours in a new outfit with brand new shoes, waiting for some Angels’ pitcher to pick me up for a date.” Okay, maybe it’s not the highest road.
Felix’s face falls as he realizes I’m talking about him. “Abigail, I’m so sorry. My mind was on baseball all day and I,” he winces, “forgot. I’m really sorry.”
He forgot?
How the hell do you forget that you had a date?
I wave my hand at him as if it’s nothing to me when I’m trying not to punch him in the face. “It’s no big deal. I’m sure your mind was on baseball. Forget about it. I have.” I give him a tight smile.
“It is a big deal. Let me make it up to you.” He’s being sincere, at least he appears to be.
“No, Felix. Let’s drop it. I know you’re busy. I’m sure you don’t have a lot of time to date anyway. Plus, I have school and work. It’s bad timing for both of us.” I pray Annie comes soon.
“I’m not that busy. It’s just,” Felix pauses. “I often forget to stop letting my job be my life. That’s the simple answer. Can I please make it up to you?”
Finally, Annie pulls up to the complex and I hold up a finger, letting her know I’m on my way. “Listen, my sister is here to take me to lunch. I understand how important your career is to you. I know you have a great work ethic and it’s something that’s appealing about you. Keep that focus and I’ll see you around. Oh, and don’t worry about being my driver either. I was totally joking about that.” I give him my best fake laugh
“Are you sure? Are you coming to the game at least?”
“Yes, I’m completely sure. There’s a game tonight?” I know there is a game tonight, but I’m sure as hell not going.
“Yes, there is.”
“Right. Sure, I’ll be there,” I lie to him. “I’ve got to go right now. Bye.” I rush past him and jump into my sister’s car.
“Um, Felix is a lot hotter in person.” Annie fans herself and pulls a quick U-turn out of the parking lot. “What did he want?”
“He says he forgot because he had baseball on his mind,” I huff. “Then he wanted to make it up to me.”
“Great, you’re going to give him another chance.”
“Ha,” I scoff. “No way. He forgot me. It wasn’t like he was a few minutes late. He forgot he even asked me out. That’s his subconscious telling him to stay the hell away from the bad luck girl.”
“Abby-bear.” Annie shakes her head. “You’re his good luck charm. I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” She turns onto the interstate.
“Fine, then you date him,” I mumble.
“Abby, stop it.” Her voice is firm and I know I’ve gone too far.
I’m about to apologize but my phone ringing cuts me off. It’s LA and I’m going to have to deal with her next.
“Hey, LA.”
“What time do I need to pick you up?”
“Um…I’m going to ride with Felix actually.” I see Annie looking at me, but I turn toward the window.
“Shut up! That’s great. I’ll have your hot dog and beer waiting for you. Be sure to be there before warm-ups.” She ends the call and I remain facing the window.
“You’re playing with fire. You told Felix you were going to the game, didn’t you?”
“I may have,” I mumble.
“Now, you told LA he was taking you.” I know that tone. I call it her ‘mother’ tone.
“I may have,” I say even lower.
“Oh, you’re going to feel the wrath later tonight, especially if they lose.” Annie pulls onto the off ramp.
“They’re not going to lose. It’s dumb that they think I have some special baseball-mojo to make the Angels win. I’m not a rabbit’s foot, for Pete’s sake!” I’m almost yelling.
“Calm down, Abigail.” Her voice is gentle and she pulls into the restaurant’s parking lot. When she finds a parking spot and parks, she turns to me. I’m still not looking at her. “You’re not a liar. I’m begging you not to start now.”
I look at her. “I know. I’ll take care of it, but I’ll do it later. Right now, I want to hang out with my sister.”
“Then come on.”
Annie and I have a great meal. We laugh and talk about school, work, and even the fact that Annie has a crush on another teacher from a different school she met at a conference. They have been chatting through Facebook, but haven’t gone out yet. I hope she will find someone. Annie has such a big heart; she would be a wonderful girlfriend and even a wife.
After lunch, we head to the mall where she ends up buying me a couple outfits, even though I beg her not to. A few hours and a sof
t pretzel later, we pack our bags into the car and she takes me home.
Walking into my apartment, I hear my phone ringing. It’s LA’s ringtone and I know that I have to face the music.
“How could you lie to me?” The hurt and anger bursts through the phone.
“LA, it’s a little complicated. I’ll explain later.”
“Tell it to Felix. He looked so shocked you weren’t here. He was pale! If they lose tonight, it’s all your fault.” She ends the call and I hang my head.
Shit. This is the worst weekend I’ve had in a long time. I drop my bags in my bedroom and come back to flip on the game. Maybe this will prove to Felix that I’m not needed.
Inning after inning, my heart sinks deeper into the pit of my stomach. When the ninth inning comes, I almost tear up. The Angels haven’t even scored. They’ve barely gotten on base. When they show the bullpen, I see Felix, and there is anger and hurt all over his face.
Shit. This isn’t going to go well. My phone vibrates.
LA: Thanks a lot Abby-bear.
I fall back on the couch and sigh deeply. It’s one thing for Felix to be mad at me, but not my sister.
I knew that knock was going to come tonight, so I’m a little prepared. When I open the door, Felix is standing there and I’m not sure if he’s going to yell at me or stand there silently.
“Come in, please. I have a beer waiting for you in the fridge.” I step to the side and open the door wider.
He walks in. “You should’ve just told me you weren’t coming.”
“True.” I shut the door and lead him to my kitchen. I hand him a beer and we sit at the table. “I did lie, and I did it for selfish reasons because I was upset you forgot me last night. I mean, you told me you forgot because of baseball and that hurt.”
“I know. Would it make you feel any better if I told you I’ve forgotten dinners with my family before, too?”
I take a small swig of my drink. “If you’re making it up to make me feel better, then no, it won’t. However, if you’re serious, it does a little bit.” I twirl a strand of my hair around my fingers. “You have to see it from my side. I was ready, dressed, and sat here for hours without a single text or phone call. Do you even know how crappy I felt?”
Felix (The Ninth Inning #1) Page 3