I have another meeting with a new studio today to pitch my project.
PRESTON
You’ve got this. I believe in you.
IVORY
Fingers crossed.
Call me later?
PRESTON
Of course. Text me whenever you want. I want to know how your day goes.
I miss you.
IVORY
Missyou, P. So so much.
“Play’s at second,” I call out as we go through our rotation of infield plays. For this play, a runner is on first aiming to steal second base. The pitcher winds up delivering a strike across the plate. Miller catches the ball and throws it down the center straight to my glove. I sweep my glove down tagging the runner before his fingers can meet the bag. “Out!”
“Nice catch, Fielder,” the runner says, standing up and dusting off.
It’s our first team practice and it seems to be going well. Every man on this team is an expert at his craft. You don’t get to this level without being the best. While some of us may be rusty due to the time off, getting back into the game is like riding a bike. We have been honing these skills for most of our lives. They don’t leave us during the off-season and they won’t leave us after an additional hiatus.
Batting practice is next and I take my place at home plate while the pitching coach throws some balls down the line. After the first few swings, I’m warmed up and driving balls deep into the outfield. The extra weights with Miller over the last three weeks have helped.
“Atta boy, Gramps.” Miller slaps my ass as we walk back to the locker room after practice.
“I haven’t completely lost my touch.”
“You’ll be hitting bombs in no time. Look at those guns.” Miller tries to reach out and touch my biceps but I push him into the wall.
“Stop trying to fondle me, damnit.”
“I thought you liked it when I fondled you.” Miller grabs at his heart. “Did you meet someone else?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“That’s not very nice. Wait ‘til I tell Ivory you were mean to me.” Miller picks up his phone when we get to our lockers acting like he is sending a text.
“She won’t believe you.” My phone vibrates and I pick it up to find a text from Ivory.
IVORY
Why are you being mean to Miller?
“Seriously?” Laughing, I respond to Ivory.
PRESTON
I wasn’t. He was trying to fondle me.
We’ll talk about how you have my best friend’s number later.
“Hey!” Miller yells beside me. “You weren’t supposed to tell her that part.” Leaning over I look at his phone screen finding a text from Ivory.
