“I am well aware of that,” answered Jake. “You don’t cut the check anyway.”
The Flood Girls began to warm up on the field, while Rachel wandered around the outfield, smoking a cigarette. She dropped it into the brown grass when Diane jogged out to her, handed her a softball glove. Laverna watched as Rachel pointed to her fingernails.
“Wear the goddamn glove,” shouted Laverna. “You can’t catch the ball with your hands.”
“Jesus Christ,” Red Mabel said, and spit on the ground.
The Flood Girls took the field, and the sun was out. An icy patch remained in the outfield, conveniently located between the Sinclairs. They were like pioneer women anyway, and could no doubt navigate it. Laverna suspected that if a grizzly bear came charging on the field, between the Sinclairs and Red Mabel, it wouldn’t stand a chance. And that was without Red Mabel’s rifle, easily accessible in the grass near third base. Guns were not allowed at regular league games.
Ginger Fitchett warmed up on the pitcher’s mound. Bucky lugged a bucket of balls and carefully arranged them before her. People in Quinn still treated Ginger like she was sick, but Laverna knew that Ginger was made of much stronger stock. Ginger had kept her hair short after the chemo, even after remission. She was a no-nonsense woman, and a hell of a pitcher. She was two years older than Laverna, and almost as mean, and she warmed up by swinging her arms around and around, wiggling her fingers. Ginger had been on the team for the last eight years. She and Red Mabel were the only original members.
“C’mon!” shouted Red Mabel. “Let’s get this shit going.”
Bucky flipped her off and picked up his bat and pointed it toward the outfield. Ginger snickered.
The first pitch was wild, and clattered against the chain link that caged off the bleachers. Jake startled and dropped his sketchpad.
The second pitch glanced off Bucky’s bat, and it dribbled along the third-base line. Red Mabel barely moved. She scooped it up and threw it to Della at first. Della gossiped with Tabby and was not paying attention. The ball hit her on the thigh.
“Fuck!” Della shouted, and rubbed her leg. The ball rolled toward the dugout. “What was that for?”
“You need to pay attention,” said Red Mabel.
“You are not the coach,” Della said, and looked at Laverna for backup. Laverna said nothing, would not discourage the gossip. Della and Tabby had married the same man at different times, so they understood each other, and Laverna learned from years of coaching that communication was paramount to the success of the infield. Shortstop almost always threw to first.
The next pitch was good, and sailed into the outfield. The shorter Sinclair caught it without fuss and threw it to Della. The shorter Sinclair always smelled like freshly baked bread. Laverna assumed she was in charge of carbohydrates for their entire compound.
Ginger put the third one right over the plate, and Bucky connected, sending the ball high into the air, heading toward Rachel.
“Move!” shouted Laverna.
The taller Sinclair heeded her orders and made her way toward Rachel, who had put the glove in front of her face, cowering. The ball dropped a few feet behind Rachel, and the taller Sinclair beat Ronda by seconds and hurled it to second base.
Rachel removed the glove from her face, and began to comb out the tangles in her hair with her free hand.
“At least Krystal could make a tourniquet,” shouted Red Mabel. Laverna did not like that Red Mabel was already thirsty for blood. The season hadn’t even started yet.
“Nice try, Rachel,” said Diane, who genuinely meant it. The entire infield laughed.
Ginger’s next pitch went straight over the plate, and Bucky aimed for right field. This time, the taller Sinclair ran to assist. Rachel covered her face again, did not move an inch.
Della backed up from first and caught the ball, just barely, and threw it to Ginger, who had hustled over to cover first base.
“That’s teamwork,” hollered Diane encouragingly.
“Shut the fuck up,” said Red Mabel.
Laverna groaned, and Jake scooted away from her. She stood up from the bench, wincing as her casts caught on the chain link. As the beer and pills rushed to her temples, and the pain sent sparks into her eyes, Laverna Flood nearly fainted. She called for her nurse.
Jake shrieked when beer sprayed in an arc from the corner of La-verna’s mouth. Laverna wasn’t sure if his sketchpad had been soaked, or if he was shrieking at Red Mabel and her knife. She didn’t really care. When Red Mabel pulled her back up on the bench, Laverna swallowed a belch, tried to appear coach-like. The rest of the Flood Girls were staring at her.