I open the security gate and run into Decker and Easton on the sidewalk.
Decker’s holding another cardboard sign that was left behind on the gate. “The Paddock?” He holds up the sign where I see girly script in black Sharpie spell out the word. There’re also a few phone numbers and lines like I’ll be the easiest home run you’ve swung at and hit me out of the park.
Easton grabs it from Decker and tears it in two. “We’re not a bunch of horses that can be caged up. We’re wild mustangs.” He walks over and drops the sign in the trash can.
Decker and I look at one another with raised eyebrows.
Is it annoying that we find these signs? Hell yeah. Does it suck more that they know where we live? For sure.
“You’re really taking this name thing to heart,” I say, looking down the street for my Uber and checking my phone.
“It’s just that there was The Den, then The Nest, and now we’re the fucking Barn or The Paddock? We need something cooler.”
“I don’t think it’s that heavy,” Decker says, and I agree.
Easton pats me on the stomach. “We’re heading over to Peeper’s. You want to come and boost your ego? The old guys are on our side after our win today.”
I scoff. The regulars who line the bar at Peeper’s always have an opinion on our game. They complain when we play shitty and still give us pointers when we win.
“You know they’re waiting to give you shit about not getting Tremble out in the fourth, right?” I pointedly look at Easton.
“I missed him by, like, an inch. Plus, he’s fucking lead off, he’s fast as shit. Give me a break.”
Easton. I love him when he makes excuses and acts as if nobody should be calling him out for anything. In truth, it was a hard play and shows off his amazing glove skills, but the old men like to pick apart everything.
“I gotta pass. I’ve got somewhere to be.” I look down the street again, tapping my foot on the concrete.
“The best friend again?” Easton shakes his head.
I haven’t told them much about what’s going on with Leighton, except that she’s now responsible for three kids. It’s not that I don’t trust them. After all, Decker is the twin brother of my best friend. Then again, I haven’t told Foster anything either.
I have no reason not to trust Easton and Decker. I should probably be straight with them. “Yeah, I’m the babysitter tonight.”
“Babysitting?” Decker scratches his chin. “Wow. Good luck. Hope you get paid more than I ever did when I babysat.”
“You were a babysitter?” I ask.
Easton and I cross our arms and stare him down. Not that I’m surprised—Decker has the patience to deal with kids, for sure.
“Didn’t everybody babysit?” Decker looks between Easton and me.
“Fuck no, I didn’t babysit,” Easton says with a scowl.
“I was the most requested babysitter in our area.” Decker puffs his chest out a little.
“The most requested—please stop.” Easton snorts, trying to hold back his laugh. “I had to watch enough of my cousins for free. No chance I was signing up for more even if I was being paid.”
“That’s because you come from one of those freakish families who have, like, nine kids,” I say.
“It’s not freakish. And I only have one sibling. It’s Dad who has eight. There’re no parties better than ours though. One day you’re coming up to Alaska with me.”
“And I’m sure you’re the entertainment at said parties.” I step closer to the curb, hoping my ride is close. “Anyway, it’s National Nail Day, so I gotta go deal with that.”
Easton puts his hand on my chest to stop me from walking to the curb and leans forward as if he didn’t hear me right. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Should’ve kept that one to yourself.” Decker shoves his hands into his pockets.
“The little girl is doing this National Days calendar thing, and today’s Nail Day, so I’m taking her to get her nails done.”
