“Yes, it’s all included.”
She whistles under her breath, impressed.Her delight is childlike and adorable.“Do you want a wine cooler?Beer?Champagne?”
“I’ll take a beer.”I’d rather watch Madison, but she’s too sexy, too tempting.I return my attention to Faraday.He shouts something at the pitcher, Lex Bryant, who scowls back at him.Hmm.Trouble among the players.Redactible is going to be filled with posts about this later.
“Is this stuff for us, too?”She points to a pile of merch arranged on the table.Foam fingers, flags, and jerseys and hats from both teams.
“Yeah.”I keep my eyes on Faraday.“Take whatever you want.”
Madison brings me a beer and moves to stand right in front of me.I reach for the bottle and she tugs it just out of reach.
I snap my gaze to hers.“Madison.Hand it over.”
“Fine.But you know this is a social thing, right?Talk to me.What’s going on out there?What’s so important?Aren’t they just warming up?”
“Yeah, they are.But you can tell a lot about their mindset by how they warm up.”
“How so?”
“See the shortstop?”
She nods.
“Watch him.”
She eyes Faraday.“He’s kind of hot.”
I laugh.“That’s what you’re getting from this?Watch how he pauses before everything he does.He isn’t at the top of his game today.”
“I guess.”She gasps.“He just flipped off his own pitcher!”
“See?Do you think this is a team that will win?”
“Depends on what kind of drama is happening with the Rattlesnakes.”She laughs.
I stare at her.“You think this is funny?This is serious, Madison.”
She laughs harder.“Um, you’re joking, right?”
“No.These are professional players, and they’re acting like immature middle-schoolers.I’ve been watching the Surf Rats since I was a kid.They’re my favorite team despite their years-long losing streak.When they brought in Faraday, I thought he could turn things around.But the way he’s acting?He’ll be lucky if he isn’t traded at the end of the season.”
“Okay, okay.”Her voice is soothing but sarcastic and patronizing.“Let’s sit down and watch this very serious baseball game.”
“Brat,” I say under my breath.
“Why, thank you.”She straightens her shoulders and sits taller.
The Surf Rats finish their warm-ups, which means the game is about to begin.After the national anthem is performed, the Surf Rats take to the field.Lex Bryant heads to the pitcher’s mound and glances around at each of his teammates—his pre-game routine.Faraday notably doesn’t meet his gaze.
Whatever blood is between them, it’s bad.
“They really don’t like each other, do they?”Madison grips her wine cooler.“Like, damn.They hate each other.What did the pitcher do, steal the shortstop’s wife?”
“He isn’t married.”
She shoots me a look.“So you know about their personal lives, too?”
“Just a few things.”No way will she get me to admit the hours I spend on Redactible, reading up on these guys.I criticizedFlesh and Teethfor being like a soap opera, but the private lives of the Surf Rats would rival any kind of soapy melodrama.
