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My abs clench and my pulse skyrockets. Time slows like I’m in the middle of some idiotic romance movie as I watch the blonde straighten and flip a section of hair over her shoulder as she moves to the end of the table for her next shot.
She takes one step before sensing my presence. She glances up. Her eyes lock with mine, and the pleasant smile she’d been wearing falls. Her face pales.
Before she has the chance to speak, I murmur, “Hey, Carlee.”
4
COREY
I ignorethe curious stares taking in our interaction and wait for Carlee to say something. Damn, she looks beautiful. I haven’t laid eyes on her in over a decade. She looks great in pictures, but they don’t hold a candle to how beautiful she is in person.
So many emotions flicker across her flawless features. It’s impossible to guess what she’s thinking, but I can tell she’s shocked. Can’t say I blame her.
The only reason either of us knows anything about the other’s life is through Carlee’s family. Each year, Mr. and Mrs. Jones send me their Christmas card along with a newsletter updating their friends and family about their lives. I have to admit, I read it mostly to learn what Carlee’s up to.
What did Kendrick call her?
A social media coordinator?
Her job with the team must be recent. Last year’s letter said she was still self-employed, working with small businesses in the area to promote their brands.
I talk to Carter on a semi-regular basis, but I never ask about Carlee. I would’ve thought he’d share the news that his little sister is working for her favorite baseball team, especially when he heard about my trade.
The only excuse I can give is that he’s currently in season. Carter’s focus is next level. It’s part of what makes him the best linebacker in the league. The other parts stem from natural ability. Mr. Jones might’ve lamented the day in seventh grade when Carter chose to give up baseball to focus on football, but there’s no denying his skills on the football field far outshined those on the diamond.
Other than his six-year-old twins, Carter doesn’t spare time or energy for anyone else in his life when he’s playing ball. The team gets the best of him. That’s likely why he’s still single.
Still, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to think he should’ve shared Carlee’s news with me. It’s a big deal. She loved going to Lonestars games when we were kids. And even though we haven’t spoken in years, I know it’s her dream job.
A throat clears, drawing my attention to the other side of the pool table. Carlee’s opponent stands there with a wide grin pulling over a boyish face. “Holy shit. You’re Corey Johnson.” He rounds the table, switching his pool cue to his left hand and extending his right. “I’m Joshua Chen. First baseman for the Lonestars.”
The name is familiar which must mean he’s decently talented. The Loons haven’t played the Lonestars in a couple of years, no doubt before the young player was drafted.
“Hey,” I shake his hand, but I look back at Carlee. Her eyes are still wide with surprise, but some of the color has returned to her cheeks.
“We’re damn glad to have you on the team,” Joshua continues, seemingly unaware of the tension pulling between me and Carlee. “The Loons are idiots for trading you.”
I huff. “Thanks.”
“What are you doing here?” Carlee finally breaks her silence. Her tone is almost accusing.
Joshua glances between us. “Do you guys know each other?”
“We grew up together.” I don’t know why I offer the information. I’m not one who usually explains himself, but I can’t deny I feel compelled to let the people in this bar know Carlee and I have a history. Even if it’s just that: history.
“Wow, Carlee.” Joshua barks a disbelieving laugh. “A brother in the NFL and a childhood friend who’s an MLB star? What are the odds?”
“Low,” she mutters. Then, she lifts her chin and asks again, “What are you doing here, Corey? The season doesn’t start for months.”
So, she knew I’d been traded. I file that information away for another time.
“My agent suggested I move here as soon as possible.”
“Gary told you that?” She knows my sports agent. Not only does he represent a number of athletes on other Dallas teams, but he’s also her brother’s agent.
“No, my PR agent.” I hired Avery Lawson, now Avery Moreno, at the start of last season after news leaked from the Loons locker room that I wasn’t close with my teammates. I had nothing against the men I played ball with, but I wasn’t on the team to make friends. Baseball is my life—my passion. I bust my ass to be the best. Shooting the shit at practice wasn’t how I liked to spend my time.
But my image took a hit. The press began to portray me as an arrogant, egotistical jerk. And the culture in the locker room became toxic when the other players started believing it. Gary had suggested I hire someone to help mend my reputation before it was too late. In an ideal world, my performance on the diamond would be all that mattered, but this recent trade showed that’s obviously not the case.
