“Okay. The kid’s off the table. Next.”
Liesel presents several more draft potentials, and Marty and I have no objections, so they get green-lighted. But there are a lot of moving pieces to putting together an extended 40-man roster. Depending on what other trades and moves happen among other teams this week, we could find that our top picks in any category are gone, and suddenly we need to rethink the whole strategy. And Liesel, I’m seeing, is a master at strategy. With every new name, she updates a field in her software, and it populates a dozen different possible paths to filling the roster.
It’s awesome.
Not that I’ll ever tell her that.
We move on to pitchers, and Liesel puts up a couple of proposals, including calling up two minor league pitchers.
Logan and Lucas Fischer.
Liesel thinksI’ma punk? Those two are the Princes of Punk Town (still workshopping that name). More than that, though, their numbers don’t convince me. They moved up to Triple-A ball last season, and they were good. By the end of the season, they werereallygood. But they’re unproven.
And, as was previously established, they’re massive freaking punks.
“The Fischer twins? Really?”
Liesel’s nostrils flare. “Do you have a problem with them?”
“They’re easier to read than a chapter book.”
Kathy and Marty look at each other. Marty shrugs.
“They telegraph their pitches. Is this really news?” I ask.
But Liesel doesn’t let either of them speak. “Then how about we look at your old buddy Colton Spencer, instead?”
“Colt Spencer?” I spit the name before I can stop myself.
“You blew the guy a kiss after you ‘launched a bomb,’ remember? I assumed you two were close.”
“He’s a jerk. Total clubhouse poison,” I say.
“What would that be like?” she asks.
“I wouldn’t know. My teammatesloveme.”
“Okay, break time,” Kathy says. She snaps and points to Liesel and me. “You two: here, now.”
I hate the burning feeling in my chest. I’m doing a great job getting attention, but a terrible jobdoingmy job. I exhale loudly. I didn’t want this. I can’t stand the idea of Doug thinking he assigned me for nothing. What is it aboutLieselthat makes me so irritated, so contrary, so …
Excited.
No, not excited. Just irritated and contrary. If she makes me feel more alive, it’s the same way getting caught naked in a snowstorm would—sharp, cold, and impossible to ignore.
Judging by her tight eyes, she feels the same way about me.
“Did you two used to date, or something?” Kathy asks.
“No, we just met,” Liesel says.
“I’m sorry, Kathy,” I say, getting my apology in before Liesel can. “I should probably do a better job observing and chime in when you and Marty need me.”
“Good idea,” the older woman says. “I like strong opinions. But we have a lot to get through in a short time, and if you two don’t stop sniping at each other, we’re never going to make it.”
“Sorry, Kathy,” Liesel says. “Let’s try this again.”
We return to our seats, and when I get there, Marty is sitting beside me. Is he babysitting me? Who am I kidding? Of course he is. The presentation continues. I bite my tongue, only offering input when Marty elbows me.
