“Mm, mm, mm,” I say. I do a spinning motion with my finger. “Give us a little spin, Ms. Fischer. Let me see how good you look wearing my name on your back.”
“I’m not spinning,” she says.
“It’s cool. I’ll spin for you.” And because I’m me, I take out my phone and film as I walk around her.
“DO NOT POST THAT.”
“I won’t! Not everything belongs to the fans.” I grin as I record her. As satisfying as seeing my name on her back over that big number three, the hint of a smile peeking out from her scowl is even better.
She holds out her hands. “Happy now?”
“Immensely.”
“No one with an abominable snowman tattoo covering his entire right cheek should look that happy.”
“What do you mean? Post Malone is covered in face tats, and that guy’s always smiling.”
“You’re like Pre-Malone. No,Home AloneMalone.”
“Ha! I like that. Kevin!” I cry like I’m his mom.
“Give me strength,” she mumbles heavenward.
We walk to the ballroom, where breakfast is served. Today’s the last day of meetings, but because we don’t end until six tonight, most people I’ve talked to are flying home tomorrow. Including meandLiesel.
Do I plan to take advantage of another night with her?
Yes. Yes, I do.
Unfortunately, the moment we walk into the ballroom, Doug is on me like Jack on Frost.
“What were you thinking, Coop?” Doug asks.
“What do you mean?” I assume he’s talking about my face tattoo, but I’m not allowed to talk about it. So I gesture, instead.
He grabs my arm and smiles at someone who passes us.
“What’s with thePsychovibes, Doug?” I ask.
“You were with Liesel Fischer last night.”
I have plausible deniability, so I don’t get flustered. “Yeah, we joined the analytics team for a team builder. What’s the problem?”
“You,” he says.
“Me?” A twinge of worry hits me. But I brush it off. “Why? Nothing happened.”
“Tell that to the representative from the Umpires Association.”
And now the twinge is a full body assault. I squeeze my eyes shut, pained. “You don’t mean what I think you mean.”
“You know I do.”
I open my eyes, and I spot Liesel looking at me from the buffet line, confusion lifting her brow. I give her a weak wave and an even weaker smile, and then I join Doug at his table.
I hate the glimpse of hurt I catch in her eyes, so I text her.
Coop
