“They have ice cream at batting cages?” India asked and took the helmet from her, finally, so Maisie could pull the bat out of her bag.
“They have a concession stand, andTrailer’s Ice Creamis the best in the city. It’s homemade, and I think it’s better than any of the stuff you get at the grocery store because they only sell it locally and make it in small batches.”
“Trailer?”
“They started by selling out of a trailer,” Maisie replied and held out her metal bat. “This is my bat. No one here has used it.”
“I’ve never held a baseball bat before.”
“We’re hitting softballs tonight.”
“That’s the bigger one, right?”
Maisie laughed and asked, “You’ve really never…”
“I had to go to a baseball game for work once. It was a minor league team, I think. That’s what my boss said, anyway. We got a suite. I drank bad red wine out of a plastic cup and stood in the corner talking about the new locations we were working on.”
“Okay. I’m going to show you how to hit. Then, we’re going to eat hot dogs and fries and get that ice cream.”
“Hot dogs?”
“Yes, all-beef hot dogs.”
“Not the parts of the pig that are left over, so they just mash them all into a big machine and spit them out in the form of hot dogs?” India asked, looking concerned.
“Oh, I have no idea. Maybe. But not pig. Cow.”
“Cow pieces?”
Maisie laughed, took the helmet back, and placed it on India’s head.
“Oh, my God.” She laughed.
“What? It’s bad?”
“You look so cute,” Maisie said.
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do.” Maisie brushed a few strands of India’s hair back out of her face. “I kind of never want you to take that off.”
“Well, if we get to the part where we have sex, it will not be with me wearing this thing.” India tapped the helmet with her finger.
“But will you wear something from the special-occasion drawer?”
“I should say no because you brought mehere, but… maybe.” India stood up. “Okay. I want ice cream, so let’s get this over with. I am prepared to embarrass myself.”
Maisie stood up as well, and they walked to the cage she had reserved for the next hour. There, she opened the door and moved until she was on the other side of the plate, with India across from her in the batter’s box.
“Okay. So, bend your knees a little,” Maisie told her.
“Like this?” India asked, bending her knees slightly.
“Spread your legs, too.”
India glared at her with that eyebrow lifted.
“Not what I meant.”
