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As we walk down a long corridor, the loud ruckus coming from neighboring cages begins to sound fainter by the second.
Where is this kid taking us?
Spiders begin to crawl at the nape of my neck, telling me that something is wrong here, when he finally shows us to our private cage, far away from any prying eyes.
Lottie.
This must have been her doing.
“If… if you need anything… just come find me,” the kid stammers, throwing not-so-discreet glances my way.
I was fine when he was checking Lottie out, but him acting all scared and shit just looking at me hits a fucking nerve.
“Thank you very much. We will.” Lottie smiles at the boy.
I take a long step back, giving him enough room to pass us by, then the kid surprises me by having the balls to stop right in front of me.
“Yeah?” I ask, already on high alert.
“Are you… are you… Nathan Wilder?”
“I am. What of it?” I say a little too abrasively.
“I… um… would you mind… signing a ball for me?”
“You want me to sign a baseball for you?” I sound as shocked as the kid.
“Is… that… okay? I know it’s not a hockey card or a jersey,” he stammers, and I kick myself for being such a jackass.
Here I was, thinking the kid hated my guts like everyone else and was about to call me every name in the book, when in reality, all he wanted was my signature.
Because he’s a fan.
Fuck, I suck.
“Sure, kid. I’ll sign whatever you want.” I smile.
The toothy grin the boy gives me in return is brighter than all the metal halides in this place combined. He quickly pulls a pen from his front pocket and grabs one of the discarded baseballs on the ground.
“What’s your name?” I ask after he hands his precious pen and ball to me.
“Patrick, sir. My name is Patrick,” he says with conviction, finally finding his voice.
“And how old are you, Patrick?”
“I’m thirteen, sir,” he answers politely.
“Thirteen, huh? Aren’t you a little young to be working?”
Especially at night.
I mean, I’ve been to batting cages before.
This is where guys usually come to blow off some steam while drinking a few beers.
A kid his age should be at home doing his homework, not here dealing with drunkards.
“I’m just filling in for my dad until he gets off from the dock, sir. Then I’ll go home.”
