“I have an announcement,” Dominguez says. “We have another roster change.”
I straighten.
“Devereux has been released.”
My hand shoots out, and I grip Easton’s wrist. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“I will not tolerate discrimination inside or outside of my clubhouse. I will not tolerate violence. The Clippers and Jetties stand firm on this. If anyone ever has any concerns, my door is always open.”
I share a look with Paulie and East. Paulie’s eyes are glossy, and I send him a ghost of a smile. It’s small. But it’s something.
I scan the room until I find Olander. He’s staring at the floor, face pale. Upset his crony got released?
The skipper claps. “Now. Since we’re out a third baseman, we’re down a man.” He nods his head toward the guy next to him. “This is Miles Trent. We’ve called him up from Single-A.”
My eyes shoot wide.Single-A?He looks vaguely familiar, but I don’t think we must have interacted much during Spring Training.
“He’s young, he’s hungry, and he’s impressive as all hell. Make him feel at home and show him how we do things. Michaels, I want you to help him get settled.”
The kid goes beet red. Kind of looks like he’s seconds from pissing himself. Somehow, the new guy’s nervousness reinvigorates me. I hop up, make my way to him, and extend a hand.
“Welcome to the team, Trent. I’m your short. Looking forward to playing with you.”
His Adam’s apple bobs, and he sends me an uncertain smile as he grabs my hand. “Thanks.”
“You got it from here, Michaels?”
“Yeah, Skip. I’ll do intros.”
“Good. See you all on the field for warmups in a half hour,” he calls out as he heads out of the locker room.
I make the rounds with Trent, introducing him to the rest of the guys. “So, call-up from Single-A, eh?” I eye him. “How long have you been with the Jetties?”
His gaze drops to the floor. “This is my first year. Drafted last year. Fifteenth round.”
My eyebrows lift. Explains why I hadn’t heard of him. But hot damn. “That’s amazing, kid. Chin up. Own your talent.”
He glances up at me, then around at the rest of the room. “I don’t want to come off as cocky or like I’m skipping the line.”
We stop in front of East and Paulie—I saved the best for last, naturally—and Paulie chuckles. “Well, he’s definitely nothing like you, Michaels. Humility isn’t a word you’re familiar with, is it?”
I grin. “Nope. I’m talented as fuck, and I know it. I’m also extremely good-looking.”
“He’s the total package,” Paulie and East say in unison, and we dissolve into laughter.
Trent stares at us with wide eyes. The poor kid. He’s going to think we’re deranged.
“Sorry,” I manage between laughs. “This is Nebiolo or Nebs, and this is Winters. Catcher and right fielder. Also, my roomies and besties. We’ve moved up the minors together.”
Paulie offers a hand. “Looking forward to seeing what a player who goes from Single to Triple-A looks like. You must be unreal.”
Winters punches him. “Dude. He already looks like he’s going to vomit.” He smiles that sweet-East smile at Trent. “Don’t sweat the jump, man. Try not to focus too much on that shit. We’ve all been in your spot. All we care about is playing ball. And we’ve got a great group of guys here.”
“Yeah, especially now that Dev’s gone,” Paulie spits out.
Someone stumbles behind me, and I turn to see Olander hurrying past. Paulie scowls.
“What happened with him?” Trent’s words are hushed.
