I sit back in my chair and adjust my tie. My options are one year or three? That’s all anybody’s willing to risk for me after having a solid fifteen-year track record and a couple World Series wins? I get it. I’m ancient in baseball years at thirty-five, but I was hoping for a prettier deal than that. It’d get me back out there playing ball again, sure, but those numbers are almost a cosmic joke. I’m good enough to offersomekind of a deal to but not good enough to actually invest in me as a player and member of the team.
“You said you liked the Swordfish—Miami’s always a good time.” He picks up his glass and swishes it so the ice cubes clink. “Then again, Denver’s got good skiing an hour away.”
“I do like Vail,” I say quietly. Three years in the Rockies wouldn’t be horrible. It’s an easy flight to Boise to see Stella. There’s no shortage of things to do, places to eat, live sports to watch. I can’t believe I’m really considering this offer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Nola furrow her brow and purse her lips. “That’s not the best you can do, Aaron.”
I sit up, but stay quiet.
“What do you mean?” Aaron asks.
“I’m not sure what Maxford told you this past weekend about us, about me, but I have a daughter. Do you have kids?”
Aaron shakes his head.
“A wife?”
“No.”
She leans her elbows on the table. “Work with me here,Aaron. Have you ever had a girlfriend for more than five minutes?”
“Yes.”
“If you know anything about women, you know most of us come with a lot of stuff. And women also have big feelings about places we love and things we can’t live without. My daughter and I are guilty of all of this. We have attachments to everything in this valley and we’ve had a very full life here the past eight years since my late husband passed.
“The Boise Library is where we did music and movement every Friday until she went to kindergarten. She broke her arm rollerblading on the greenbelt by Red Bridge. Her STEM Club friends like to celebrate birthdays by going cosmic bowling at Emerald Lanes. The manager of Trader Joe’s knows her name and that her favorite treat is milk chocolate peanut butter cups. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”
“I think so.”
“Let me spell it out so we’re both on the same page. I love my husband and I’m prepared to pack up and move . . . but it’s going to come at a price. If you’re going to pull us from all of this, it needs to be a team where he can thrive.”
He sits back coolly in his chair. “I don’t think I know how you two met.”
“Oh, this is a fun story. I was cosplaying Ben Franklin at the bar on a random Thursday night, as one does. I kissed Maxford about five minutes after meeting him. We’ve been inseparable ever since.” She makes a display of putting her hand on my thigh under the table and I nearly jump out of my chair. “What can I say? I saw a good one and I had to make him mine.”
Aaron doesn’t blink as he takes in that visual and all of a sudden lets out a bark of a laugh. “You’re bold.”
“Mm, I think what I am is looking out for the interest of our family. Last time I checked, you work for Maxford. I expect you to show up and earn your commission. You and I are both people who are paid what others think we’re worth. I work hard for my commissions. I deliver on what the people want. That’s all you have to do too. From what I’ve seen tonight so far, you don’t believe in my man enough to earn yours.”
Our family. My man. I had to make him mine.Plus,her hand’s still on my thigh.
Nola’s selling this, laying it on so thick to prove we’re happy together. A warmth rises through me as those phrases sink in. My mind wanders. What if this were real? What if she truly felt this way about me and us? If her moving for my job were really on the table, would she stand up for me this same way, or is she being overly confident because she has nothing to lose? I mean, she is pushing a little hard and fast here. If she blows this deal for me, she still has Stella’s portrait and my grandmother’s contacts opening a few doors for her. But I could lose my last chance at finishing my baseball career in style. I’d be staring down another year of teaching P.E., never getting the chance to suit up one more time.
“Babe,” I say as calmly and sweetly as possible, hoping it comes out as pet name said a hundred times before. I’m sweating in my suit, hoping I haven’t made a huge mistake in bringing her tonight. The smart thing would’ve been to claim she was sick and feel out Aaron’s information before bringing her into the mix. Nola’s gaze meets mine and she gives me a tight-lipped smile.
“I’m sorry, Maxford, was I being too much again?” she asks with a wrinkled nose, aloof and flirty.
“You’re never too much for me, but Aaron’s just met you . . .”I try to make a face that reads fun and silly instead of ‘please-don’t-ruin-my-career.’ “He isn’t used to the passion you bring when you care about something.”
On the word ‘passion,’ her eyes widen like she’s thought of the most perfect next move. She tilts her chin up with pouty lips and presses them into mine for a quick peck. I miss the feel of her lips instantly. “You’re right, I apologize,” she says to me and then turns to Aaron. “And I apologize to you too, Aaron. I can get a little intense.” She’s animated as she speaks and he seems to eat it up.
“No harm done. I can get behind a supportive wife.” He picks up his menu and starts to browse it. “Hutch, you really picked a feisty one. Let’s order and then, Nola, I want to hear more about why you were pretending to be Ben Franklin.”
Once the food came,our conversation shifted naturally. I’d already seen Aaron for industry talk over the weekend, and Nola had lots of questions for him about how he became an agent, where he lived, the best donut he’d ever eaten. They got along like old friends after their initial power struggle.
“Got a hot date?” I ask Aaron as our plates are cleared and we wait on the check. He’s checked his phone a few times this evening and that’s not like him. I’ve always appreciated how he is zoned in to me and me alone when we’re working. I’ve seen enough agents who are tapping out messages while simultaneously talking into their earpiece and attempting to hold a conversation with the player standing in front of them.
“I’m not as lucky as you, Hutch.” He grins. “Your wife’s a bloodhound—she could sniff out another offer on the horizon. She’s also right: I need to earn my commission and I think I might have right here.” He holds up his phone. “I was waitingto see if a last-minute possibility would come through—I didn’t say anything to you in case it didn’t pan out but I went behind your back to one last team I knew was quietly in the market for a new third baseman. I told them I needed to know by tonight and they just came back.”
