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“Randall! How’s it goin’, man?” my former teammate and probably closest friend Joel Cougar hollers into the phone.
“It’s going, Joel. How’s it hanging?” I ask in return, waiting for his familiar reply.
“Hangin’ to my knees, but the ladies don’t complain,” he quips before a bark of laughter booms from the cell phone in my hand, making me smile.
“Same ol’ Joel.”
“And same ol’ Sawyer,” he replies over the sound of muffled voices.
“What’s up, man?”
“Just finishing up practice. Headin’ to DC in a few weeks. Thought maybe you’d consider makin’ the drive. That Podunk seaside town is only about three hours away from Nationals Park, ya know?”
Yeah, I’m well aware that the Rangers are heading to Washington DC in a few weeks. I know their damn schedule probably better than most of the guys on the roster. “Yeah, I could probably make it up. I’ll check into getting tickets for the Sunday game.”
“Let me. I’ll get you a seat right behind the dugout so we can give ya shit the whole time,” Joel says with a chuckle.
“Actually,” I start, clearing my throat, “if you’d get me two tickets, I’d appreciate it.”
Silence follows my request. “No shit? You seeing someone?”
I shift in my chair on the back deck, the blazing sun not the only thing causing me to feel like I’m in the hot seat. “Kinda,” I say, not really wanting to get into it any further. “It’s new.”
“But, you’re wanting to bring her to a game? With all the guys there? With you-know-who there?” I don’t need to ask who he’s referring to. The weight of his words can only implicate my ex.
“It’s not likely I’d see her. It’s a big park.”
“True. And Carrie wouldn’t be caught anywhere outside of the air-conditioned WAG box,” he adds, referring to the wives and girlfriends box that is set up at every ballpark. By the end of the game, Carrie had no clue how I played or what my stats were, but she could tell you all about who was screwing who and who’s shiny new diamond was bigger than everyone else’s.
I snort at his comment because it’s true. Carrie loved being married to a baseball player for status, not because she cared for the game.
Or me.
“Anyway, I’ll get ya two tickets, man. They’ll be at will-call.”
“Thanks.” A mixture of anxiety at returning to a ballpark for the first time since my injury and excitement to smell the grass and hear the sound of the bat cracking against the ball. Hell, maybe they’d let me wipe some chalk on my hands for old times’ sake. It has always been one of my favorite scents.
Well, that and AJ’s perfume.
I wonder what she’d say if I took her to Washington to watch a game. Will she bitch and whine like Carrie, or would she scream at the shit calls the umps make and trash-talk the batters? Something tells me she’s more of the latter than the former. AJ doesn’t scream high maintenance, but she doesn’t exactly say bleacher babe either.
I guess time will tell. I’ll have a date or two under my belt to get to know her better. Maybe I won’t say anything about the game until after our date on Saturday. This way, if it isn’t her thing or we don’t hit it off the way I envision, there’s no weirdness or hard feelings. But something tells me AJ will be the surprising change I need in my life. No, I wasn’t expecting to find a woman I’m interested in so closely after my divorce or relocation to Jupiter Bay, but I’m not about to question it.
“Tell me about the hottie, man. I mean she’s hot, right?”
Laughing, I decide to indulge my friend just a bit. “She’s gorgeous.”
“Tell me more,” he grunts before I hear a door slam before the background noise is completely gone.
“Why is it suddenly quiet? You’re not locked in the bathroom, about to stroke one out, are you?”
“Not in the locker room. I’ll wait until I’m home alone tonight to spank it to mental images of your new girl,” he teases. Even with the humor in his words, I still see red.
“I’d kill you,” I growl, not even caring that I’m giving him the exact response he wanted.
“You didn’t give a shit that everyone and their brothers saw your wife practically naked in a magazine, but you’re getting all bent out of shape now?” He pauses for dramatic effect. “You really like her.”
No point in denying it. “I do.”
