Cassidy “Tripp” Nash, one of our catchers, slaps me on my back. “Not anytime soon. It’s going to take some paint thinner and elbow grease to get that off. I think they got a little carried away with the layers.”
“You think?” I ask rhetorically.
He points to these little ducks that until now I had missed but are seemingly hiding everywhere in my locker. “The live content creators, Cheyenne and Micki, added the ducks to join in on the fun.”
Carter turns off the lights, and the only thing anyone can see is my locker. “And it glows!”
We all laugh again as I drop my head back, trying to figure out if I’ll ever live this down.
“You’re a good guy, bro,” Max says as he heads toward the field. “You definitely handled that better than I would have.”
“What did they do to you?” I ask him.
Carter starts to say something, but Max points at him with a knowing stare, like,Don’t you say a word.
My eyes open wide as he walks away, and Carter whispers, “I’ll tell you later.”
I nod my head and get back to the task at hand, checking all the items I left in the locker to make sure none of it is pink now.
One by one, we head out to the field, ready to take our BP for the day.
As I wait my turn, Coach Declan Wylde, our team manager, calls me over. “Evan, come here. I have someone I’d like you to meet.”
He’s standing with two guys—one older, I’d say in his sixties at least, and one younger, maybe closer to my age. Both are dressed in suits, but the older guy is wearing a cowboy hat as well.
I walk up to them with my hand outstretched to the older gentleman first. “Nice to meet you. I’m Evan Parker.”
“We know exactly who you are, son. I’m Charles Stone, and this is my son, Eddie. Welcome to the team. We sure are glad you’re here with us.”
I was part of a three-way trade that came out of nowhere about a month ago. That’s baseball though, especially when you’re still trying to make it to the show. This trade worked in my favor because here I am.
“Thank you for having me.” I shake Eddie’s hand.
“The Stone family owns the team,” Coach Declan adds in.
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “I’m sorry. I thought Josh Thompson was the owner. I can’t believe I had that information wrong.”
“You’ve got nothing wrong, son,” Charles replies in a friendly Southern tone. “He’s an owner too. We’re more silent partners. The world doesn’t need to know our business, so we give him all the accolades and get to sit back and just enjoy the show.”
“I can respect that.” I nod.
“You were one I pushed for,” Eddie says. “I watched you play the Mudcats in Boston last year and knew you had something special.”
I grin and nod his way. “Thank you. I appreciate you telling me that. I’ll do my best to uphold that thought and have it translate to this team as well.”
“Parker, you’re up!” Coach Chris, a hitting coach, yells from behind the L-screen.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say to both of them, shaking their hands again. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” Charles replies, and then Eddie says the same.
CHAPTER NINE
Christy
Nolan comes racing into my room this morning. “It’s game day. Wake up, Mommy! Wake up!”
I grab him and yank him into bed with me, noticing it’s barely six, and my alarm doesn’t go off until six forty-five. “How is it possible you’re awake right now?”
