Grady: Cooper hired them so we’d think it was someone important.
Pop: I think he finally found his pirate princess.
Max: I’m leaving this conversation now as well.
Mom: Max, don’t go. You know who he was hiding, don’t you?
Dad: Grady told me you were having lots of silent communication with Cooper there at the end like he and I used to have before he left Shipwreck to go have a life of his own on the road and get closer to you than he is to me. *sad puppy emoji*
Pop: Miss those days when he was around all the time. So does Long Beak Silver. Instead, he’s family with the Fireballs now. *sad parrot emoji*
Tillie Jean: Stop, all of you. Cooper texts as much as he talks. It’s like he never left, and you all know it. Quit playing games with Max to get him to talk.
Grady: Do we really want to know who Cooper’s trying to score with? Honestly, I sleep better at night when I don’t have that information.
Pop: I need to know if she’s worthy of the Rock family name.
Dad: *laughing emoji*
Mom: Pop, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think *wedding bell emoji* is in the future for Cooper. Not until he’s done playing baseball, anyway. At least. I sometimes suspect his house is a front, and he really lives at Duggan Field. And I’m not sure I’d be okay with seeing him settle down with someone who’s willing to live under the bleachers at a baseball park with him forever.
Annika: Wow. I never knew you all trash-talked Cooper. I thought it was a myth.
Pop: My grandson wouldn’t get an ice sculpture brought up to his house for just anybody.
Tillie Jean: Pop, Cooper would get HIMSELF an ice sculpture if it made him happy.
Dad: But it was two swans. It wasn’t anything Fireballs-themed. Pop might be right. Cooper might have an honest-to-god crush on the woman he was hiding.
Max: Fuck.
Grady: I’m throwing up a little in my mouth as I type this, but if she’s willing to, ah, score with him regularly, and that’s really what his game needs…
Annika: Ew.
Tillie Jean: *barfing emoji*
Mom: I want all of my children to have healthy sex lives, but I also don’t need to know specifics. For the record.
Dad: What if Cooper’s curse is the anti-Brooks Elliott curse, and if he settles down with one woman, his career is over?
Max: All right. Enough. Cooper’s still gonna get all of these first thing in the morning unless one of us is brave enough to go break into his house, steal his phone, and spare him this entire conversation, which I’m not volunteering for because I don’t want to know what else he’s doing up there. But my point is - I personally like to WIN. And the team needs him. So you can all take this SOMEWHERE ELSE that I don’t have to see and Cooper doesn’t have to see, or you can risk taking on those bodyguards again. Me? I’m going to sleep. I’m pitching in two days, and I plan on fucking winning.
Tillie Jean: It’s so hot when you get bossy on behalf of the Fireballs.
Grady: Cooper, if you get this, and I’m wincing as I type it… Call me if you need anything. ANYTHING. Even if it’s gross.
Annika: I love you, Cooper, but please don’t call me. Or Grady, no matter what he offers. Miles and I both need him to keep us sane. Call Max. He’s got your back. The rest of us are sending you baseball thoughts and positive superstitions. Go kick ass, because that’s what you do, you egotistical motherfucker.
Tillie Jean: Aww, Annika, you only call Cooper a motherfucker when you’re really tired. Go get some sleep. Max and I are going radio silent on this chat now. Mom, Dad, Pop—you should do your WE SUPPORT COOPER ritual and get off text too. Night, everyone.
Dad: I just got a tingle of excitement. We haven’t done this since his third year with the Fireballs.
Pop: I’m in. Let me get the parrot dressed.
Mom: *facepalm emoji* Suppose we should’ve thought of that all on our own. Love you, Cooper. Do what you need to do, and play good tomorrow! We’ve got your back, even if your penis doesn’t.
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