* * *
I show up to the baseball field with Lincoln and Monroe, a bag of T-shirts the park district gave me, and some equipment. After the home visit, Hayes stayed for a while and demonstrated some exercises I could have the team do to build their skills. Between those and the ones I researched, I was feeling pretty confident until now.
Lincoln is still doubtful that I can coach this team, and as he was going to bed, he begged Hayes to be here to help tonight. I’m sure Hayes would, but they had a game this afternoon and then a press thing, so Lincoln promised to give him a recap tonight on the phone.
Lake has been on me for details about my relationship with Hayes, but I’m keeping firm on my decision not to tell any of the kids that it is indeed fake.
“Where is everyone?” Lincoln whines, already in his T-shirt and shorts.
Monroe picks up a ball. “Why can’t I play?”
“This is just for nine-year-olds, but Aunt Lily is going to come and watch you during practice.” I try to force excitement into my tone, but who am I kidding? No way will my mom let Monroe go play at the park with all the other siblings.
Lake decided to go to a friend’s house, and maybe I should’ve told her I wanted her to come to watch Monroe with my mom, but I don’t want her to take on any more than she already has. She deserves to be a kid.
Lincoln and Monroe throw the ball back and forth, and thankfully, Lincoln is being cautious. Then again, he knows that Monroe is his only teammate at home, so he better make sure she enjoys playing catch. Lord knows his older sister isn’t going to throw the ball around with him.
A few families arrive, and the parents come over to introduce themselves to me and get their child a T-shirt. I’m surprised when they all stick around instead of just dropping off their child.
Guess I’m doing their first practice with an audience. Awesome.
“You look like you need some help there,” a man says. I look over to find that he’s dressed in athletic shorts, a matching T-shirt, and hat with the initials PBR. Professional Bull Riding? Huh. That’s cool.
His kid must be the last one I was waiting for. I check my clipboard and cross the name Rawlings off the list. After shaking the dad’s hand and handing out the T-shirt, I turn to go back to where the boys are messing around, ready to get started.
“I’ll help you.” He jogs to catch up to me.
The league told me that it would be hard to find assistant coaches since I grabbed the last spot, and no one else seemed to want it, so this is a pleasant surprise.
“Oh, thanks.”
A few of the moms on the other side of the fence are talking to each other, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. I worry it might not be good things about me.
“I used to play shortstop back in the day. Rawlings has an older brother, Wilson, who plays shortstop now.”
“Oh, that’s cool.” I give him a smile. I look at my list of instructions, thankful for the help but more nervous now that I’m not alone with the boys.
“What’s on the clipboard?” His head is suddenly right next to mine, peering at my papers.
I bring them down to my side. “Boys, pair up and throw to one another.” I turn to… “I’m sorry, what’s your name? I’m Leighton.”
“Mike, but people call me Butter.”
I nod. “Nice to officially meet you. I think I’ll call you Mike.”
“Ah.” He waves. “Butter is good. It’s a nickname from back in high school. Smooth like butter…” He skates his hand in a flat line in front of him, but I don’t really get the reference. “My glove skills.” His expression tells me he’s upset that I didn’t understand. “So, do you mind if I check out your list?” He points at the clipboard.
“Oh, it’s just some drills that my boyfriend wrote up for me. In case I needed them.” I don’t hand him the clipboard.
“Doesn’t think you have what it takes for this team to make it to the championship?”
My eyes scrunch. Is that what the expectation is? That I win this team a trophy? I glance to the outfield where the boys are throwing balls at one another. And I only say throwing because I don’t see a lot of catching, but I do see a lot of running after errant balls. I think I might have bit off a little more than I can chew.
“He just wanted me to have a starting point. He played a little too.” I’m not going to get into exactly who my boyfriend is because for one, he’s not my actual boyfriend.
“Yeah, cool. I’m sure he wanted to show off the fact he played rec ball once too.” Mike elbows me and laughs. “I’m gonna be honest with you.” He widens his stance and crosses his arms. “I wanted your coaching spot.”
I blink at him. “Oh. The office said?—”
