“‘Oh no!’” Logan cries, clearly quoting someone from some time or other. “‘That’s my Hyundai!’”
And they both crack up.
“All right, we’ve clearly passed any semblance of productivity,” I say, although if I were being truthful, their schtick would be charming in interviews. Should I tell them that?
It’s your literal job,a super lame part of me says.
Ugh.
My eyes zip between them. “Annoying as it was, though, it’s the kind of thing reporters will tolerate and fans will absolutely love.”
They look at each other with nearly identical grins.
Goobers. Both of them.
I stop recording and shift my monitor so they can see the calendar I have on it. “Now let’s talk logistics. You two are leaving Sunday. Driving together, correct?” They nod in unison. “Great. Get in some media practice every day. I’ll send you more videos, but ask each other the toughest questions you can think of and practice until you nail every one. And make sure you go over the rules we talked about on Wednesday. Doug’s going to be watching you two closely on and off the field. You’ll have mandatory curfews and room checks. No alcohol or partying allowed, and no guests in your hotel room.”
They give me identical faces of disgust.
“What do you take us for—” Logan starts.
“—a pair of idiots?” Lucas finishes.
I stare at them both.
Then Lucas smiles. “So how are you getting to Arizona?”
“All of ops is flying. The organization rents cars for staff.”
“So fancy,” Lucas teases.
“Putting up with you two has to come with some perks.”
“We probably deserve that,” Logan says. He stands up and holds out his hand. “Thanks for the help, Scottie. And sorry again about earlier. See you in a few days.”
“See you, Logan.”
He walks out of my office, leaving me alone with his brother, as if he isn’t worried I’m some man-eater.
He’s not worried because he doesn’t know what to worry about. And that’s exactly the problem. I know Logan well enough now to understand that his protectiveness isn’t malicious—it’s justtotal. If he knew Jake and I were fake, he’d stop treating Lucas’s feelings like a liability and start treating them like a cause. And a cause is the last thing either of us needs right now. One wrong word in the wrong room—to Coop, to a teammate, even to Liesel—and suddenly the story isn’t “Jake Rodgers and Scottie Quinn called it quits.” It’s “front-office staffer manufactured a relationship to manage a player’s reputation.”
That’s not a headline. That’s a career ender.
For more than just me.
I’ve spent years being the person who makes problems disappear quietly. I can’t become the problem.
And Lucas—if Doug hears his newest prospect is tangled up in a fake-dating scheme before he’s thrown a single pitch in the Majors, Lucas’s time with the organization is done.
So Logan doesn’t get to know. Not yet. Not until Jake’s agent signs off and the exit is clean.
Jake said beginning of March. Just a few more weeks. I can handle it.
Because Lucas is here.
“Hey, I wanted to run one last thing by you,” Lucas says. “Mind if I close the door?”
“Go for it,” I say, unplugging my laptop from my monitor and sliding it into my bag.
