Page 60 of I Saw You First

ABBEY

I’ve never been one to drool over an athlete… until today. Wil just hit a home run. Sure, it was off an easy pitch from Sam, but give the people what they want, right? Too bad Wil didn’t give the people what they want in tight baseball pants.

“Um, are you for real?” Tamsa asks. “That’s your Golden boy? Cowabunga.”

“Shh.” I jerk a thumb in my parents’ direction. Mom’s telling Dad what she wants from the concession stand, but still, I don’t want them to overhear. “Keep your voice down. He’s not my anything, except my manager.”

She snorts. “You keep telling yourself that. I can tell from here that Golden boy’s got a thing for you. With a capital Th.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve missed you so much, Tam.”

“I know you have.”

“But I kind of love working at Hometown. Is that weird?”

“Totally. How long is this game?” Tamsa picks at her nail. “You know I love you, but I don’t know how much of this I can sit through.”

“Don’t worry, the game is only three innings.”

“Great,” she says, “only two to go.”

Tamsa and I have gotten together a couple of times now since I emailed her—once for lunch and once to see That Thing You Do! Twice. We left the theater after the first screening and got back in line to buy tickets for the next one. Yes, it’s that good.

“It’s not the same without you,” she says when the inning ends and the teams switch sides. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it. “There’s something weird going on with Kim. She kind of shut down. I don’t like it.”

“Hmm.” I take a bite of the hot dog Dad brought back for me.

“Leng from accounting went to Medtronic, of all places. There’s a rumor that Slick Dick might sell to some conglomerate out of St. Louis. I’m so outta there if that happens.” She pauses. “And Sasheen is leaving music and entertainment. Another one bites the dust.”

Sasheen, Ryan’s admin. The pit monster in my belly—who’s been on sabbatical lately—roars to life and swipes its claws. I swallow hard. “Wow, that’s… surprising. Where’s she going?”

“Advertising. I still think there’s something fishy about what happened with you,” she says, quiet enough that my parents won’t hear.

“Layoffs happen,” I say.

“So does bullshit.” She sighs.

I’ve missed Tamsa and her no-nonsense approach to life… except when it applies to me. I want to tell her, I do, but I also don’t want to tell anyone, ever. I couldn’t even tell Glamma. And even if I did want to tell Tamsa, now is not the time.

“Do you think I’ll be able to catch Harmon Killebrew before he leaves?” Dad asks. “Maybe I should get in line now, just in case.”

After the game, and after Dad gets his autograph, we wander over to the concessions area where we find Wil surrounded by adoring fans—Hometown League athletes and a few players who look like they might do this for a living, in actual baseball uniforms.

Wil walks over with a gigantic smile on his face. Gigantic! I’ve never seen a smile like that from him, big and broad and crinkly around the eyes. And before I know what’s happening, he gives me a hug. A hug! Not like the drawn-out, delicious hug from the warehouse the other night, but even this brief contact sets me off balance and swizzly and yearning for more.

“Mr. Rhodes,” Wil says as he shakes Dad’s hand, “good to meet you. I’m Wil. And Mrs. Rhodes.” He turns to Mom, who pulls him in for a hug, a real one, with a squeeze and rocking back and forth.

“Please, call us Jeannie and Tom,” she says as she steps back, her hands on his shoulders, and looks him over. “We’ve heard so much about you!”

I furrow my brow. “Have you, Mom?” I’ve only seen my parents a handful of times since I started at Hometown, and Mom speaks to the answering machine more than me.

“Well, yes, don’t you remember? At Scout’s birthday dinner? You told us all those funny stories about Cesar and Sam and Kevin. And Wil, of course.”

I turn to Wil. “One story. She heard one story about the guy who threw the VCR at you at customer service because you wouldn’t let him return it.”

“It was five years old!” he says. “And that’s the story you chose to tell? Wow. I can think of about thirty more interesting stories.” And it must be my imagination, or maybe a fleck of dust in his eye, but I swear, Wil winks at me.

“I hope we’ll get to hear work stories about our little apple someday!” Dad booms. “She’s so busy between the store and the magazine, we barely see her anymore!”