“We treat this like a business partnership. That’s it. I don’t like baseball players and I’m not making an exception for you.”
That brings another smile to his face. “We don’t have to be friends, Walters. We just have to kick ass on-air. So do we have a deal or not?”
I sigh. “We have a deal.”
He smacks a hand on the table in victory. Of course he’s happy—he got what he wanted. Me, I’m not sure how I feel. I want revenge, yes, but this deal forces me closer to a fire that already burned me once.
“We start tomorrow,” he says. “We have a home game at three o’clock.”
His gaze suddenly shifts toward the door and sticks. His expression turns serious. I follow his gaze and watch a man move toward the line to order. I recognize the logo on his shirt, but obviously Garrett recognizes more than that. He stands, giving me a quick, “One second.” He approaches the guy and they shake hands and exchange a few words. When Garrett steps back, I hear him say, “See you Saturday.”
Then he’s back at the table, his face set with determination.
Determined about what?
“You ready?” he asks, gathering our trash.
I can tell his mind is already somewhere else from the distant look in his eyes. I’m just not sure where.
“So who was that?” I ask as we head for the car.
“Kyle Masters.”
“He had a Saguaro High shirt on. Isn’t that Cholla’s biggest rival?”
He nods. “He’s a teacher there.”
“That was a baseball shirt.”
He clicks his key fob and his car squeaks twice. “He’s an assistant coach, too. Also runs a training program for kids on the weekends.”
“So what’s Saturday?”
“Plan E.”
“You have a lot of plans.”
He opens his door. “I don’t give up.”
We listen to music on the way back, and though Garrett taps his thumb on the wheel, I can tell he’s still far away. Plan E maybe? What exactly is he doing with an assistant baseball coach? Is he thinking about coaching as another way back into the game? I know he likes kids. Or is he still thinking that somehow he can make a comeback as a pitcher? I knew guys who tried it. Changed their delivery motions and ended up ruining their arms even more.
Doesn’t matter what he’s thinking, I remind myself. It’s none of my business. We’re partners and the only thing I want from Garrett Reeves is revenge.
Chapter Ten
“Seven facials,” Mom says, punctuating her words with a sigh. She drops her purse and briefcase on the counter and sets down the heavy case of AromaTher samples.
“You’re the one who wanted me to stay home tonight and work on the website.”
Thursdays are always Party Night. Mom and I meet with various women’s groups and demonstrate the AromaTher line of essential oils and skin care. But Mom was stressing, so I stayed home. Secretly, I’m happy. I knew tonight was going to be a lot of facials. I hate touching skin.
“Did you get a lot done?”
I stretch my arms and yawn. My eyes hurt from staring at the computer so it feels like I did, but I know it’s not as much as Mom was hoping. “I researched other sites and made a list of everything we need.”
“I thought you already had a list?” She pulls a stack of order forms from her briefcase.
“It’s a better list.”
I know I sound defensive, but it took forever to find sites I like, bookmark elements we need, and sketch ideas for the home page. I’m also feeling guilty for offering to do this in the first place when now I’m not sure I can. It made sense at the time. Part of my job when I become a partner will be running the website—I should be the one to update it. Plus, we’d save money. But I didn’t know I was going to be starting from scratch and I didn’t know how hard it would be. I still haven’t looked at my homework, plus I’ve got tomorrow hanging over my head. Another baseball game.
Mai is beyond excited about the whole thing. For the first time ever, she texted me two pics of tomorrow’s outfit: sleeves rolled up, sleeves buttoned at the wrists.
MAI: Which one?
ME: What have you done with my best friend? This doesn’t sound like her but those look like her bony wrists.
MAI: Sleeves down it is. See you in the AM.
“How was the party?” I ask. “Lots of sales?”
“Yes,” Mom says, brightening. She sets the full kettle on the burner and turns on the heat. “Which reminds me. One of the ladies asked if we could make an exception and do her gardening group next Tuesday afternoon.”
The Cholla Wildcat baseball schedule flashes in front of my eyes. “You can do it without me, right?”
“I’d rather not. It’s too many ladies for one person. We wouldn’t start until four. You’d still have time to get home and have something to eat.” She pauses with two mugs in her hands, her eyebrows raised in question.
I shake my head, and she puts one of the mugs away while my mind races. I don’t want to tell her about baseball, but I don’t see how I can avoid it. It’s going to last for six weeks. At least Mom has been breathing in lavender for the past hour. She’s as calm as she’s going to get.
“I kind of started this thing at school. I’m helping broadcast baseball games.”
“Baseball?” Her voice is a roller coaster climbing to a peak. “Since when do you go to baseball games?”
“I don’t. Ever. Except once this past week because of Mai.”
She fills a metal infuser with loose-leaf tea. “What does Mai have to do with baseball?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Give me the synopsis.”
I draw in a breath. “Mai has a crush so we went to the game, and the color guy was awful. Didn’t know baseball at all. I couldn’t help myself—I stepped in. And
