My brow furrows. “Competition?”
“For your attention,” she explains.
I’ll give her points for confidence, but she’s way off the mark. Kelly Spencer is in her mid-fifties and happily married to her wife of many years. Not only am I too young, I’m not her type.
“Send your resume, along with all the documents the agency looks for from potential interns. It’s on the website.”
“I’ve already done that, which is why I’m here.”
She puts her finger in her mouth and bites it, looking up at me through her lashes. She’s about as subtle as a Mack truck. I’m so not interested. There’s something to be said about the chase.
“Sorry. I can’t help you. Human Resources in LA makes the decisions.” I hear the roar of the crowd, which indicates the game is over. “Excuse me,” I say leaving her to head to the manager’s office.
“It’s a crock of shit,” Frank Mendez says as soon as he sees me.
I know he’s referring to the trade rumors Jeremy mentioned. I shrug. “It has him anxious, and he pitches in tomorrow’s game. If he’s worried, we all know he won’t do well.”
“I fucking hate Raymond for starting this shit,” Mendez says. “Mostly because he knows what it does to Jeremy.”
I couldn’t agree more, but I also know Jeremy needs to grow up a bit so it doesn’t bother him. “I’ll talk to him tonight. I’m taking the Three Amigos for dinner and an evening of Fortnite.”
“Good, because the team lawyer needs to talk to you.”
I raise my brows. “What’s up?”
He leans in so those outside his office can’t hear. “Jeremy got some stalker mail.”
I look at him as my stomach tightens. “How bad?”
“We’re reporting it to the police, and they’ll want to interview him. We’ll try to postpone until after he pitches tomorrow, but we want to go over it with you.”
I nod. It comes with the territory, but it must be bad if they’re going to the police. “Thanks, Mendez.”
I walk back into the locker room, which is crazy, with players in various phases of getting dressed, as well as trainers and coaches scurrying around.
“Dude,” Crispin says. “Thanks for letting us hang tonight.”
“Of course. I can kick your ass on Fortnite any time.”
He chuckles. Both Crispin and Jake had good games today. Crispin slid in left field to catch a short hit and due to his speed in getting the ball to third base, they got a double play. And Jake hit a fly ball that had a bad bounce but resulted in a run batted in, and he made it to first base. We have plenty to celebrate tonight.
I talk to all three of the players for a few minutes before I make an excuse to see the front-office folks. Jeremy looks nervous. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t have anything to do with a trade,” I tell him. “I’ll be back. Don’t leave without me.”
Mendez and I take the internal elevator upstairs to the General Manager’s office. As soon as we enter, we’re waved in.
“I don’t have the letter on me, but it has a high ick factor, so we’re reporting it,” says GM George Jordan. “They’ve agreed to meet with Jeremy after the game tomorrow. Can you be with him? He may be emancipated from his parents, but he’s still a kid.”
I cross my arms and nod. “Of course. Crispin Meyer, Jake Garcia, and Jeremy are coming over to my place for pizza and video games tonight. I’m not going to say anything until after the game tomorrow.”
“That’s a great plan. We want to finish this series with the Dodgers on a high note.”
That’s code for they want a win and to limit the distractions. I get it. Baseball is full of superstitions, and it goes all the way up to the owners’ box. We discuss the logistics, and then I head out and meet the guys for the ride over to my place.
When the rideshare drops us at my condo, Mindy is out on her patio. “Hey, Axel!”
She waves, and despite the gray day, she’s in a hat and oversized sunglasses. The guys all stop to look at her. She’s wearing what’s supposed to be a bikini top, but it’s like two tiny eye patches that don’t exactly cover much more than her nipples. It’s chilly outside so she’s definitely on high beams.
“Mindy,” I reply.
“Wow, it looks like you’re having a party.”
I choke. “Nope. Just friends getting together to play Fortnite and eat pizza.”
“Ohh. I can bring tequila,” she offers. She turns to the boys and licks her lips.
“Thanks, but the guys are too young to drink. Enjoy your evening.”
She looks confused and tentatively waves.
As we enter my place, SoBe comes running out to greet us. He loves the guys, and they lavish him with attention. I peek out the window and don’t see Mindy, but I’m sure she’s there, waiting for an excuse to pounce. I do see the pizza delivery guy, so I walk to the front door to pay for dinner. The guys will each mow through a pie, which is fine. They can burn it off in seconds, and I’m stuck working out. I don’t mind. It’s good for me.
“Why are you not hitting that?” Jake jacks his thumb toward the door when I return.
I must have a strange look on my face.
“That woman is really into you,” Crispin points out. “She’d probably let us tag-team her, if we asked.”
I don’t think he’s wrong. “She’s not my type,” I try to explain. “And just because a woman is willing doesn’t make it a good idea.” I guess that’s the difference between being eighteen and thirty-two.
“How can a woman so into you not be your
