“Um, yes.”
“Then you know what trouble they can be. I need someone like you to clean them up, polish them for the press, so to speak.” He chuckled again, making me laugh too, even though I didn’t know why. I was nervous, still confused, and extremely overwhelmed. This was Rhett Hamilton, billionaire, owner of the most notorious team in the league. What did he want with me?
“I’ll make all the arrangements. You just show up at the airport, and then let me convince you as to why this would be an incredible opportunity for us both.”
I thought of my life here and what I had to look forward to — nothing. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him that I was only an intern, with no paid experience in the real world of social media management. I assumed he already knew, but should I bring it up? No, shut your mouth and accept, Katrina. You need this, badly!
“That sounds perfect.” Panic set in at my acceptance. What if he didn’t like me once we met? What if he realized he’d made a mistake hiring a college graduate with only eight months of internship under her belt? And that was only at a small local radio station. This was for the majors.
“I’ll have the information sent to you shortly. Is tomorrow afternoon okay with you? I can have you back that evening if you decline the position,” he said with confidence.
“Yes, that’s perfect,” I agreed.
I hung up the phone, slid it back into my purse, and turned to see my father staring at me with a mixture of confusion and excitement… and something else I couldn’t recognize.
“Was that Rhett Hamilton?” he asked. I nodded, still too shook up to speak. “He offered you a job?”
I nodded again. “I leave tomorrow afternoon for New York,” I managed to spit out.
“That’s great, honey!” My mother was enthusiastic, much more so than my father.
Larry, my Uber driver, was pulling up to the house. He was right on time, and for that I was thankful. I didn’t want to hang around and listen to one of my dad’s lectures about why this wouldn’t be a fantastic opportunity. I knew it was, and I was grateful to have it handed to me, even if I didn’t know exactly why.
CHAPTER THREE
Todd
I was grateful to still be in New York as I walked into the Beasts' indoor stadium. The place was new, fresh, and didn’t have that stank usually found in older stadiums. I was still reeling about the trade when my new coach slapped me on the back. “Glad to have you on the team,” he said quickly before rushing me to the center of the locker room.
I looked around the newly built locker room in awe. The Mets' locker room was nothing to complain about, but this, this was a player’s dream space.
“Listen up,” he called out to the group of guys who gave little to no attention to his presence. He lifted the whistle from his neck and pushed it into his mouth, blowing hard and loud until they all turned toward him in silence.
“This is our first pre-spring practice. I want the best of your best today, and every day this season. We’ve had a lot of changes, a lot of new players, and now, Todd Morris has joined us as catcher. One of the best defensive catchers in the league, he’s above average offensively as well, boasting a .306 batting average. He hit twenty-three home runs this past season. Malone, show him the ropes. The rest of you girls get your panties on and get in the cages.” I watched Calvin Malone’s eyes glaring at me as Coach spoke.
Rhett appeared beside me and slapped his hand on my shoulder. “Morris wasn’t an easy one to get on this team. I expect you will all work hard to get him up to speed on our standards.”
The guys continued their banter after the coach and Rhett finished their speeches. Coach motioned me toward the locker next to Calvin’s. Great!
Rhett had talked me up, acting like he’d fought to get me. In reality, we both knew I was tossed to him freely by my former team. This was the first practice, the first time I’d have to catch for Calvin, and I wasn’t looking forward to it, to any of it.
And standards, really? I wasn’t exactly sure what standards Rhett was speaking of, but from what I read about the Beasts, what I knew about them, I didn’t see any standards in place.
Coach pushed over a few guys, some of the heavy hitters on the team for Calvin and me to work with. “This way,” Calvin ordered, motioning for me to follow him to the back of the practice arena.
I grabbed my gear, following him without argument. I wasn’t ready to get into it with Calvin Malone, and in all honesty, I hoped we could put the past behind us. He won, he got the girl. Whitney, the beautiful Whitney. It was a sore point with me still, and I was certain for him as well. I geared up, walked out behind home plate, and looked around the large indoor field. It was nice, nicer than what I’d been used to. I was ready for his anger, for his distrust, but I was willing to make this work. If this was going to be my new home, I planned to make the best of it. Bring it on, Malone. Get it out of your system before the season starts.
Calvin took his place on the mound while Kane Steele, the new first baseman, picked up a bat. He was fresh out of the minors, and personally, I’d never seen him play. With no connection with my pitcher, no read on the hitter, I was catching blind. Not a great start.
There was no discussion about how he wanted his pitch signals delivered, so I’d have to work extra hard to make this work. I squatted down, signaled with one finger for a fastball, and the bastard shook his head. Two fingers for a curveball, another shake of the head. I continued with the basics, all to which he shook his head. What the fuck did he want? Pick something, Malone. It’s just practice for God’s sake.
Steele was growing impatient. I was too. “What the fuck. You gonna throw a pitch or what?” he scoffed.
The lack of communication was killing me. I was used to having a connection with my pitcher, at least on some level. I slammed three fingers inside my thigh forcefully enough to leave a mark. Calvin grinned, nodded, and wound up his slider. Finally!
Steele slammed the ball without hesitation, sending it toward Malone with a vengeance. He ducked out of the way, slammed his glove on the field, and headed in my direction. “What the fuck, you tryin’ to get me killed?”
“Whoa, slow your roll,” I replied with more than a little hint of sarcasm. He wasn’t gonna pin this on me.
Steele dropped the bat, walked over to the dugout and took a seat. As Calvin’s face turned red with anger, and his words grew louder and more aggressive, the rest of the team began to flock from the batting cages and toward our scene.
“Malone, Morris, my office, now!” Coach’s face was its own shade of red.