Mateo wondered what Alicia thought about the choice. He would have loved to get her take, but if this afternoon was any indication, with her unwillingness to give him the time of day, she seemed to have no interest in getting to know him better.
Supper at Rique’s did nothing to quench his need to talk to her. In fact, watching the mating dance that Rique and Fiona were doing made him long for a woman he could hold close. One woman. His. When Seb offered him a bed for the night, he pounced on it. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, and he didn’t want Seb to be alone with his.
It didn’t take Seb draining a half bottle of scotch for him to understand the anxiety. There was more to his inner conflict than met the eye, and he had a suspicion as to what it was, or rather who, when he said, “They cannot choose Mac Calipari. They just can’t. I’ll be back in Cranston before the crow flies. Will this thing with her never end?”
The tone suggested regret, not anger. Frustration, rather than discontentment. Mateo had a feeling Seb hadn’t moved on as easily as he’d suggested. Wanting to dig a little deeper, he asked,
“Tell me about Casey.”
It was the woman Seb had left behind after high school, who also happened to be Mac’s daughter.
Seb shot him a glazed look. His eyes held memories, the kind that could not be relinquished.
“She’s pretty and smart and kind.”
He closed his eyes, as if bringing her back into focus.
“She had it rough. Not many knew that. Everyone thought her life was so easy. Daughter of a baseball great, and a stylish decorator who could turn any house into a home. Both so well established but she was lost most of the time. She never thought she measured up.”
“But in your opinion, she did.”
“She’s the heart of the family. The center. They’d be lost without her. It didn’t surprise me that she took over the complex. Like I said, she’s smart.”
Seb had a far-away look in his eyes. “She’s always been his right-hand person. Even when she was little. He’d take her with him as much as he could. He liked her; you could tell.”
He sat up straight, tugging the bottle he held in his hand along with him.
“But not in a weird way. I don’t want you to think there was—”
“I’m not.”
Seb slouched back again, raising the bottle and taking a long gulp.
“She always thought he did it because she was alone so much, and he felt bad for her. She didn’t make friends easily. Everyone wanted something from her, like tickets to a game or her father’s autograph. That’s why Allie is one of her best friends. She didn’t need anything from her, so Case could just be herself.”
Mateo’s interest perked right up.
“They were friends when you were dating Casey?”
“Yeah. Had been for years by then. Allie’s dad is a sportswriter for Yakker Magazine. He’s been following the Greenies since he started out, and he’s good friends with Mac.”
“Yakker?”
That was a strange name for a sports magazine.
“Yeah it’s slang for a curveball with a big break. I think it’s a play on breaking news, breaking ball.”
He didn’t want to let the opportunity to learn more about Alicia go, and it looked like Seb was fading fast. Wanting to gather as much information as possible regarding the woman who was creeping under his skin, he asked, “What was Alicia like when she was younger?”
Seb wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Why do you call her that? It takes me a couple seconds to figure out who you mean. She’s always been Allie. Anyway, she’s always had a one-track mind. She can rattle off all the stats of Greenliners living and dead, can call what kind of pitch is being thrown as soon as it leaves the pitcher’s hand, advised the infield to shift before the shift was a part of the game. She’ll be a Greenie for life and she’s currently on the ladder of choice, climbing faster than anyone thought possible. For a woman.”
“For a woman? What does that mean?”
“There used to be a glass ceiling in baseball. Female reporters weren’t even allowed in the locker rooms not so long ago. Now it’s a matter of course for them. Allie’s the one who broke through the one in the Greenies’ front office.”
He felt a flicker of pride flame in his chest.
“Mac knows this?”
“Better than anyone.”
“So, if Mac gets the job, Alicia…Allie…will have already established a rapport with him.”
Seb slouched down farther into his chair, his eyes heavy-lidded. Mateo knew it wouldn’t be long before he was snoring. He handed over one last piece of data.
“Yes. The team will benefit from their combined efforts. We… You just might go all the way.”
Had he already decided he wouldn’t make the cut? Mateo didn’t bother asking. Seb had drifted off.
Mateo got up, took the bottle out of his hand, and secured the top before placing it on the table.
He clicked on the TV for some background noise, found a sports station where three people at a desk sat analyzing each team’s prospects for the coming year.
The consensus was the Braves would finish last. Beyond that, each had a different pick on which team would finish first. One picked the Brewers, from the Central division, who were bringing back the core of their roster, giving them a razor-thin edge. The second was picking the Dodgers to repeat and possibly bring the trophy to LA this year. The third forecast a definitive win by the Greenliners, explaining that they’d picked
