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Harlow

I don’t know how Ella doesn’t break her finger with that rock sitting atop it. Mine hurts just looking at it.

“Josh can’t do simple, can he?” Lucia laughs as Ella waves her hand around, finally showing off the engagement ring we’ve been dying to see.

“You know him, right?” Ella replies. “There was no way that man didn’t go for the biggest diamond he could find.”

“He’s the epitome of go big or go home,” Rory says as she tucks her dark, curly hair behind her ear.

I take Ella’s hand and inspect the ring for myself. “And he’s absolutely mad about you.” I let go of her hand, and she rests it on the table. “How’s his leg feeling now?”

“So much better,” Ella replies happily. “He’s so excited to be back on the field for Opening Day tomorrow.”

“We’re glad he’s going to be back, too,” I reply. “The Stars couldn’t even survive the first round of the playoffs last year without him.”

Lucia swishes the glass of red wine in her hand. “Blame him for not stretching enough during training. If he did, he might not have torn his ACL.”

Rory eyes her mischievously. “Shouldn’t we blame the trainers for not making him stretch enough?”

“The players are grown men,” Lucia chides, crossing her arms. “I can’t make them do shit. I can advise them, but it’s on them to actually do it.”

“There’s no way my dad doesn’t get on their asses to listen to you and the other trainers, Luc,” Rory replies back.

“Well,” I say, steering the conversation back, “let’s get back to why we’re even at dinner tonight.” I turn to Ella now. “We’re so excited for you and Josh.” Lucia, Rory, and I raise our wine glasses in a toast. “To the future Mrs. Garro.”

Ella smiles happily as we all clink our glasses together before sipping and setting them back on the table.

Lucia faces me now, pushing her silky black hair behind her shoulder. “You know, Lo, talking about that story would really help out your blog. A player engagement would bring in viewers.”

“I write about their stats, Luc, not their damn personal lives. That has nothing to do with how they’re performing.”

“Writing about their personal lives would probably help you reach a larger audience, though,” she says, popping a cherry tomato off her fork.

She’s right—that would help me significantly. Starred and Fast does well enough, but I’ve struggled to get it out there. I have some very loyal followers, but I need more. Rent isn’t cheap in NYC. My ad revenue is enough to keep me afloat, but I don’t want to “float” forever—I want to expand and be seen. My brother, Cole, is a great shortstop for the Stars but keeps a relatively low profile, enjoying a quiet life rather than trying to become a household name. And not that I want to ride on my brother’s coattails, but his desire for privacy is not doing me any favors in getting myself noticed.

“I honestly don’t know how I feel about that, Luc. I don’t want to become a tabloid reporting on everything they do. I want to keep my focus on the game’s workings and how the players perform.”

“I think you could find a balance, Harlow,” Rory adds. “Your readers can get the game and player stats on any sports website, so you need to do something to stand out.”

“I know,” I respond with a sigh. “That’s what I’m hoping I can do with the interviews. I’ll finally be able to give an in-depth look at the people themselves. The players never really get a chance to control the narrative surrounding them, and the personnel is all but forgotten amid the team’s performance. I want to give them a voice, too. They’re just as much a part of the success as the players themselves.”

“I seriously love that idea!” Ella exclaims. “It shouldn’t be too hard for you to get interviews with anyone because of your brother. I’m assuming you’ll start with Cole?”

I shake my head. “You would think so, but considering my brother tries to live in obscurity, he doesn’t want extra attention on him right now.” I use my thumb to point at Rory sitting next to me. “I have Rory set up for my first interview tomorrow. Since she’s Skipper’s daughter and Lane’s nanny, I figure she’ll be a good start to get this side of the blog off the ground.”

I’ve always found it odd that the Field Manager—essentially the head coach—is called Skipper in baseball. Since it wouldn’t be right to call him Coach Fisher, everyone just calls him Skip.

“You’re interviewing personnel, and you’re not interviewing me, your best friend?” Lucia places her hand on her chest in mock offense. “I can’t believe you, Pierce.” She dabs away a tear that isn’t there. “I thought we were closer than that.”

“I’m interviewing one of our other best friends, Luc,“ I reply, playfully shoving her shoulder as she laughs. “You’re on my list, though. I just think Rory and her take-no-shit-and-give-no-apologies attitude will be the perfect starting point. Plus, Paul was a hall-of-fame player—everyone knows who she is because of her dad.”

“Ooh, you know who else you should interview? Knox Spencer!”

“Seriously, Luc? Knox might entice people with how he looks in baseball pants, but the man is known for hating interviews. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him smile.”

“He looks good in baseball pants, huh?” Rory smirks.

“Hey, I just call it like I see it. But even if he was blessed with such a perky backside, it doesn’t make up for his shitty attitude. There’s no way the man would ever agree to an interview.”

“He’s friends with Cole, Josh, and Lane, though,” Ella adds.

“And I think he’s spoken a total of ten words to me in the three years that I’ve known him. He never talks when we’re all together.”

“So wear him down then. Mr. Grumpy Pants could use some of your sunshine to brighten up his rainy parade.” Lucia shrugs her shoulders.

Knox Spencer is known across the league for his terrible attitude and the lack of enthusiasm he gives in interviews. The guy can throw a hell of a fastball, and he’s one of the only pitchers in the league who can successfully throw a knuckleball. He’s damn good at what he does, and he knows it. The media circus around him knows it, too, and they try their damnedest to question him about it. But Knox doesn’t care. He shows up for his post-game interviews because he is contractually required to do so. He gives short replies and peels out the moment he’s able to.

Getting a guy like that to interview with Starred and Fast would be massive for me. Fans love watching him on the mound, but that’s the extent to which anyone knows him. He’s a mystery, an enigma. So maybe Lucia is right—perhaps he just needs some sunshine to warm him up.

Water cascades around me as I wash away the day, rinsing all my stress down the drain. Dinner with the girls helped, but I can’t sate my worry.

Worry about my blog and how I can increase traffic.

Worry about my brother as he starts a new season with the Stars and how he will perform.

Worry about getting friendly enough with the players and having them agree to do interviews with me.

I know it’s going to be hard to break through to Knox. But I can’t help but feel that there’s more to him beneath the surface. Under that gruff exterior could be a heart of gold, someone sympathetic and charming. Knox is one of Cole’s closest friends, and Cole is like me—bright and optimistic. He wouldn’t keep the company of someone who doesn’t have any redeeming qualities. Hopefully, I can learn more about him through the season as I try to become more friendly with the players.

When the hot water runs out, I step out of the shower and into the steamy bathroom, wrapping myself up in one of my favorite plush towels. Standing in front of the mirror, I take a look and see all my freckles prominently displayed across my nose, cheeks, and chest. I never used to mind them, but my ex-boyfriend Derek was not a fan. He always said they made me less attractive. Since then, I’ve kept them covered with copious amounts of foundation and concealer, rendering them virtually unnoticeable. That’s just the way I prefer it now.

I reach for my hair dryer, plug it in, and set it to medium heat. The air blows my hair out as I finger comb my sandy blonde tresses. I’m not a natural blonde. I have to get mine from a salon. For that reason, I’ve always been jealous of Cole—he has the blonde hair I always dreamed of from years spent outside in the sun. He has the beachy, surfer look that you would expect on somebody out of San Diego, not somebody from freaking Brooklyn.

But I digress.

Once my hair is dry, I switch the dryer off, set it down, and then fan it out over my shoulders. It falls a few inches past my collarbone and has a slight waviness to it. I may hide my freckles, but at least I’ve always loved my hair.

I head into the main area of my studio apartment and grab a set of flannel pajamas for the night. They aren’t cute or anything, but even though it’s baseball season, New York City is still cold as shit in April. These will help me stay warm with the dodgy heater that my landlord is dragging his feet on fixing.

Padding my way into the kitchen, I grab myself a glass of wine and head over to my desk, setting the glass down and flipping my laptop open. With tomorrow being Opening Day, I need to make sure this post is ready to go before the game starts just after noon. The rest of my night will be spent right here, editing and perfecting the entry.

Might as well make myself comfortable.

Lucia

What time are you all getting to the stadium today?

Ella

I’m already on my way

Harlow

I’m getting dressed to head out the door as we speak

Rory

Running a bit behind today

Sage had some strawberries for her snack this morning and mashed them all through her hair, so I had to give her a bath

I’m still packing up her bag before I can get her out

Lucia

Are you bringing Sage out to watch the game today?

Rory

I’m going to try to, at least for a bit

The wind is chilly today, so I’ll bundle her up and try to catch a couple of innings before we probably end up back in my dad’s office, where it’s warm

Ella

Good

I can always use some company back there

Lucia

You’ll have some company if you come to watch the game with us, Ell

Ella

I could, but I could also watch the game on TV and not have to worry about getting hit with a foul ball

Harlow

Anyway…

Do you think Sage will recognize Lane out there this year, Rory?

Rory

I have no doubt. I’ve been playing some old games for her throughout the day lately, and every time Lane was up at bat, she would point at the screen and say, “Dada! Dada!”

Lucia

That is so fucking cute!

Harlow

Ugh, Sage gives me such terrible baby fever

Lucia

You need a man again before you can have a baby

Harlow

I don’t need a man

Ella

You do if you want a baby

Harlow

I could always adopt, you know

Lucia

Lo, you’re twenty-five and single

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s doubtful any adoption agency would accept you

Rory

Which means Harlow needs to get herself some dick

Harlow

Jesus, Rory

Does your dad know you talk like that?

Rory

Hell no

And I would prefer to keep it that way

He still acts like I’m a kid sometimes

I’m twenty-five, for fuck’s sake!

Lucia

This is getting off-topic

You coming or what, Harlow?

Harlow

Yeah, yeah

I just found my glittery Stars hat, and I’m walking out the door now

Beers in hand, I find my way down to our seats. Cole made sure he got our parents and me a set of four season tickets so we could catch as many games as we wanted with an extra ticket to share with whoever we chose. And since the seats are in the front row on the first baseline, we’re always right in on the action. Our parents don’t make it to many games so that usually leaves me with three tickets I can share with my friends.

When Lucia and Rory join me for any games, they’ll sit with me here. It works out well for Lucia since she’s an athletic trainer for the team. She needs to be able to get to the field if there’s an injury—these are the perfect seats for her to do that. Ella usually stays back during the games, but she’ll join us out here sometimes.

I originally started going to games because Cole wanted to. He had started playing Little League and wanted to see what the professionals looked like. The first game we watched saw the Stars beat the Atlanta Thunderbirds in a walk-off grand slam. I’ve been hooked ever since. I eat, sleep, and breathe baseball now.

That’s why I started Starred and Fast . I don’t have any athletic ability, but I’m a voracious enjoyer. Why not use my knowledge of the sport and help fellow baseball enthusiasts who may not understand all the ins and outs learn about it? I have a number of male followers, but most of my readers are women—ones who started enjoying the sport later in life because of boyfriends, husbands, and friends. Through me, they obtain a better understanding of what’s happening.

But that’s why I need to expand. I’m currently appealing to a very niche market, which won’t be sustainable long term. I want to start these interviews to bring in more people. That’s why I have to lay the charm on Knox Spencer. I need to crack open the mystery of the man with the lowest ERA of starting pitchers in the entire league.

“Want one?” I ask Lucia, offering her one of the beers in my hand as I take my seat.

“Can’t drink, Lo. You know I’m working during games,” she replies, tossing a blanket over my legs. It’s barely above freezing today. We’re both bundled up in puffy jackets and gloves right now to keep ourselves warm. “Now, let’s stop pretending you didn’t know that and admit you bought two beers, knowing you’d be drinking both.”

I smile in response. “You know me too well.”

“You’re an open book, Lo,” Lucia laughs.

Bringing the ale to my lips, I take a sip and let the hoppy flavor consume me. “Yeah, but the alcohol will help keep me warm today.” Lucia just shakes her head at me before we turn our attention to the game.

Lane is today’s leadoff batter, followed by Josh and Cole. Lane bats it up the center, but the second baseman nabs it and tosses it to first, tagging him out. Josh strikes out with his at-bat, and then Cole cracks the ball into the outfield, where it’s then caught by the left fielder. No runs for the Stars in the first inning, but there are still eight more to go.

Knox Spencer takes the mound at the bottom of the first, pitching a 1-2-3 inning. This is why Knox is so well-known—he’s a damn good pitcher. And he keeps up that momentum until the bottom of the sixth when the batter hits a two-run home run. That’s when Paul Fisher, the Team Manager and Rory’s dad, relieves him for the rest of the game. Knox waves to the crowd as he walks toward the dugout, and relief pitcher Miguel Gutierrez sprints across the infield to take his place on the mound.

Through the next two innings, the Stars bat in a total of three runs, taking the win over the Detroit Hawks 3-2. Fans start pouring out of the stadium as Lucia and I approach the tunnels, joining the players as they head toward the clubhouse. And since I’m now two beers deep with liquid courage flowing through me, now is as good a time as any to start getting to know the players better.