Page 3

Mike

C oach said attendance tonight was mandatory. He has the team doing one bonding activity per week during the season. Last week we drove out to Marnock, the next town over, to play laser tag. This week it’s a team dinner at The Blue Crab restaurant in downtown North Bay. Calling it “downtown” is a big stretch, but that’s how the locals refer to Main Street. Other than the Major Dollar over on Pinecrest, every store in the whole town can be found along this one street. Scattered among hundred-year-old homes, there’s the tiny library, ice cream parlor, a coffee shop/karaoke/comedy club, one church, and an old Victorian-style house that serves as a yoga and dance studio upstairs and a hair salon on the bottom floor.

Main Street is a small peninsula jutting out into the Chesapeake Bay, and the properties on both sides are waterfront. The Blue Crab restaurant sits on the point at the end of the road, so the diners have a view of the boats passing by. There are wooden picnic tables inside and out, where people gather to eat various forms of seafood. Main Street might have a boring small-town vibe, but on the plus side, it’s easier to keep myself out of trouble when almost everything is closed by eight o’clock.

I’d never heard of a crab feast before moving to the East Coast, but apparently you just sit at one of these picnic tables for hours and smash crabs with tiny wooden hammers until you can’t eat any more. We didn’t have blue crabs in Idaho. I still can’t understand the appeal. I’d rather be spending this time at batting practice because my average lately is lower than I’d like it to be, but I guess I’d better get on board because, like I said, these grouchy little sea spiders are a big deal in North Bay.

I need to take a deep breath and readjust my attitude. It’s time to shake off this loss. Well, these five losses. Nope. Not dwelling. Not me. Mindset is a huge part of the game, and negativity isn’t going to get me anywhere. I didn’t do anything to help on the field today, so I have no place blaming the rest of the team. If my high school coach were here, he’d tell me I can’t erase what happened in the game, but I can control how I approach the next challenge in front of me. So, that’s it. From this moment forward, I’m going all-in on these damn crabs. I’m determined to learn to love them, even if there’s something ridiculous about sitting outside of a joint called The Blue Crab and demolishing actual blue crabs while also being a Blue Crab. It’s crab cannibalism, is what it is. We are destroying ourselves, just like we did in the game. No. Not doing that .

I tap the scruff on my cheek harder than necessary to try to snap myself out of my funk. Jordan insists we shouldn’t shave on game days, not that it seems to be making any difference.

The team and coaching staff take up all six outdoor tables at the only full-service restaurant in this tiny town. We are wearing matching white tee shirts and navy-blue hats printed with the Blue Crabs logo, so it’s easy to identify who is here with the team.

“Can we get a round of beer and some water, please?” Coach Johnson asks the server. He grunts trying to fit his large frame in the limited space between the picnic table and the attached wooden bench.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back with a few pitchers for each table. Can I get you anything else?” She’s using a customer service voice that is an octave too high, and from this angle I can see that the skin at her neck is flushed. It must be intimidating to have an entire team of guys swarm in on you at once.

“Just your phone number, cutie.” Smithy tries to shoot his shot with her and I roll my eyes. The nametag on her uniform says her name is Danielle.

“Sure thing. It’s 555-in-your-dreams. You want my address, too? I live just over at the corner of You Wish and Never Going to Happen. So, would you like any appetizers for the table? Jackson’s in the kitchen today, and he makes great crab fries.”

Okay, maybe she’s not intimidated then.

“Ha. Dang, Smithy. She didn’t even need a second to think about it,” Rodriguez says. A few of the guys rag on our teammate, and someone high-fives Danielle while the conversation turns to a debate about crab fries, which I gather from their discussion are french fries coated in crab seasoning and topped with crab dip. I still have no idea what crab dip is. The server heads back inside to get our drinks.

As we settle into our seats, I try to be intentional about using the strategies I’ve learned and look around to ground myself in appreciation of this moment. The whole town of North Bay really is picturesque, like it was spawned to life from an oil painting or a greeting card. The Blue Crab restaurant is no exception. It sits close to the water and has a pier where locals can dock their boats when they want to come in for a bite. Today there is a bit of a breeze that’s causing the water to roll in tiny waves. The side lawn is set up with outdoor games like horseshoes and cornhole, which I’m sure the team will be hitting hard when we finish our meal, and there is a small sandy area near the water with gliding benches for people to sit and rock while they look out into the bay.

Each outdoor picnic table is covered with brown paper, and in the middle of each one sits a wooden bushel basket filled with cooked shellfish. None of my teammates seem to find this the least bit strange. They are all just rolling with it and digging in. A few of the guys are using crayons they snagged from a box inside next to the children’s menus to draw inappropriate cartoons or play hangman on the paper tablecloths.

I take a crab out of the pile, but I have no idea how to even begin eating this thing. It’s spikey and sharp. I already have a small cut on my finger from the shell, and it’s coated in an inch of some sort of clumpy red pepper seasoning I’ve never seen anywhere else on Earth. Whatever it is, it sure stings like a mother when it touches that fresh paper cut-sized wound. The dead, yet somehow still aggressive, thing staring back at me also still has both claws and eyeballs. Who wants their food to gross out and attack them simultaneously? And why?

Shake it off. I can do this. It’s just one little crab.

The guys who have offered some semblance of advice so far have thrown out such gems as “Make sure you scrape out the intestines,” “Start at the apron,” and “It’s up to you if you want to eat its mustard.” Mustard is apparently what they are calling the globs of yellow fat some of the crabs have inside of them. I would think this is some kind of joke or hazing ritual for the rookie, except the entire town is in on it. Everyone eats these little monsters constantly and seems to love them.

Our server returns carrying two pitchers of beer. I’m sitting on the end of the bench at the closest table to the restaurant, so she stops when she reaches me and sets one pitcher down. We aren’t supposed to drink much during the season, and we certainly are not supposed to be getting drunk in public because we have a family-friendly image as well as muscle mass to maintain, but no one argued when Coach bought a round for everyone. It’s probably his way to try to boost morale after the recent string of losses.

As the familiar sour smell hits my nose, I move it across to Jordan, who pours himself a glass and sets the pitcher on the other side of him, out of my reach. He knows I’m sticking with water. I should probably talk to Coach about my baggage, but I haven’t found the courage for that conversation yet.

“Anybody need anything? We have enough paper towels over here?” our server asks cheerfully. The Blue Crab logo printed on her shirt looks similar to the one on my own. There’s a small red apron tied around her waist, the kind that only consists of two pockets, to hold her notepad and a pencil.

I angle my face up to look at her. She’s cute. Her brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and a few freckles are scattered across her nose. Her standard-issue polo shirt is tucked into a pair of tight jeans that are hugging her curvy hips in a way that is giving me ideas I probably shouldn’t be having at a team dinner. I’m not going there.

While I’m not as serious about it as my roommate, I promised myself I wouldn’t get distracted by any women this year. I have goals to achieve. Plus, I have already seen how the North Bay rumor mill works. The whole town blacklisted Lincoln for weeks after he went on a date with the mayor’s daughter and didn’t call her in the morning. Her friends came to our next three home games just to heckle him. I don’t want to end up at the center of small-town gossip about my love life.

When no one answers her paper towel question beyond a few polite nods, I speak up.

“We’re good, thanks.”

Our eyes lock and she smiles at me. Then Danielle turns to the table next to us and sets their pitcher down before heading back toward the indoor dining section.

Jordan leans across the table to tell me, “You should definitely hit that.”

“Shut up. Eat your crabs.”

“I’m just saying, pickings are slim in this town, and we all saw the way your tongue was practically hanging out of your face just now while you were looking at her. You’re an idiot if you don’t make a play.”

“Whatever, man. I haven’t seen you bringing anyone around for months.”

When I was signed to the team they told me our first baseman was looking for someone to share his two-bedroom apartment. His old roommate had just been called up to join the Orioles and was moving to Baltimore. Jordan’s a good guy, and he never gives me any grief for leaving my breakfast dishes in the sink or playing my music too loudly, so it’s worked out pretty well for us so far.

“You know that’s because I took myself out of the game.” As if he would let me forget.

“If you say so,” I goad him, even though I know he won’t react.

My roommate might be a superstitious, scatterbrained S.O.B., but he has the patience of a saint. It’s a good thing, because he is going to need every ounce of that patience if he plans to make it through the vow of celibacy he insists on taking during the season. Apparently, three years ago he went two months without a date and his batting average coincidentally increased by a hundred points. He insists those two things are connected. He’s taken the vow every season since, but he always caves before the playoffs. He swears that won’t happen this year.

Unfortunately, that stupid vow means he has been bored and horny, which is a dangerous combination. Now he is invested in making sure the rest of us are getting some, and it’s getting weird.

“I thought you had game, Rookie. Don’t tell me you can’t even talk to a good-looking waitress. Not up for the challenge after she put Smithy in his place? Where’s the confidence you’re going to need if you ever want Coach to let you onto the field?”

That’s it. It’s one thing to make insinuations about my lack of flirting skills, but it’s another thing altogether to imply that not talking to this woman means I don’t have what it takes to get in the game. This I cannot allow.

“You know what? Fine.”

I lay my tiny, steamed archnemesis down on the paper-covered table and stand up. Jordan snickers from across the pile of crabs. “You make it way too easy to mess with you, man.”

I ignore him and head over to the waitress. She is facing away from me, but I recognize the ponytail and those curvy hips. It only takes me a few strides to catch up to where she is standing next to an overgrown oak tree. I admire how she fills out her jeans from the back as I approach. She’s shorter than she seemed a second ago when she was hovering over me and offering napkins. The top of her head only reaches my shoulders.

“Excuse me, Danielle?” I say from behind her, referencing the nametag on her uniform.

She startles a bit, probably because she never told me her name, but she recovers quickly.

“Yes, sir? Did you need something else?”

Now we are face-to-face and she cranes her neck to look up at me. My shadow falls over her, shielding her from the sun. Her deep brown eyes are staring straight into mine again, and something in the air between us changes, but I try to ignore the crackle of electricity and go for a friendly approach.

“Not sure I’ve earned the ‘sir’ just yet, I’m only twenty-two. We’re probably the same age.”

“Fair enough. Yeah, close. I’m twenty-one.” She smiles, then looks down at the ground and shakes her head like she’s scolding herself for sharing that personal detail about her life with me. She clears her throat and puts her professional persona back in place. “How can I help you?” Now she’s using the same chipper customer service voice from earlier as she lifts her face back up to mine.

“This might be weird, but I think I need a crab tutor. And maybe a Band-Aid?” I hold up the finger where that little demon cut me. I know some guys think asking for help is emasculating or whatever, but I know my own skill set. I also know women can’t resist a man who knows he needs them. If I can use that to my advantage and make a new friend in the process, so be it. Especially when that friend has curves like this woman. All three buttons at the collar of her polo shirt are undone, and I am working hard not to stare.

Danielle lets out an adorable little giggle, and leans closer to whisper, “You’re not the only one who needs some guidance. I’ve seen some seriously terrible techniques at those tables. This happens every year. Even some of your friends over there aren’t doing as well as they’d like you to think.” Then she straightens up and speaks in her normal voice again, not the one she’d been using at the tables. I like that she is dropping the mask so quickly. I wish I could do the same.

“Let me just go grab the other pitchers. I’ll be right back.”

I follow behind as she walks inside the restaurant and take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom. When I come out, Danielle is carrying four more pitchers of beer, two in each hand. She spots me and nods to several more sitting on the wooden counter area.

“Grab a few of those, will you, Big Guy? Then let’s get out there and teach you how to put those giant hands to use outside of the ball field.”

Oh, if she only knew what I could do with these hands. After a deep breath, I oblige her and grab the pitchers. We walk together back to the outdoor tables.

“Not that I’d ever stop a pretty woman from referring to me as a ‘big guy,’ and I know I already told you not to call me ‘sir,’ but you can call me Mike. Michael Miller. I’m new around here. From Idaho, originally. I’m playing for the Blue Crabs this year.” Like she hadn’t already figured that out from the shirt, and the hat, and the fact that I’m sitting with the entire baseball team. She also just mentioned me on the ball field.

I need a quick recovery, so it’s my turn to lean in and whisper, “Despite what you’re about to see in regard to these crabs, I’ve been told I’m actually very good with my hands.” I wink at her before I can stop myself.

What is wrong with me? Maybe Jordan got in my head. She probably thinks I have some of that crab seasoning in my eye. Who goes around winking at the restaurant server they just met and making innuendos about touching them? Creepy weirdos, that’s who. And me, apparently. Get it together, Miller.

“Danielle Daniels.” I can’t tell if she’s blushing or just flushed from the physical labor of her job and this heat, but she isn’t rejecting me outright like she did with Smithy, so I’ll take it. I think I can work with this and get her talking a little.

“Okay. Your parents must be fans of alliteration, too. All of my siblings also have names that start with the letter M, like mine. We’re Michael, Michelle, Mandy, and Madison Miller. Me, three little sisters, and a whole lot of people mixing up our names.”

“Yikes. At least I’m an only child, so the suffering starts and stops with me.”

“It’s not so bad for me either, being the only guy. Mandy and Maddy have it especially rough. People always think they are the same person until they see them standing next to each other. They hate that.” My sisters’ names are a constant source of exasperation for them, so I’d be willing to wager Danielle Daniels isn’t a big fan of hers either.

“I bet.” She chuckles.

Tough break, being saddled with a name like that, although the Danielle part seems to suit her. It’s pretty, but not flashy, and that matches the vibe she is giving off. Simple, approachable, but classy. I doubt she’s the kind of girl to burp the alphabet in public, but from the way she was talking to Smithy earlier, she seems like the type who wouldn’t bat an eye if she were at a party with people who did. Until this moment, I didn’t know being unaffected by a belching contest was something I look for in a woman, but now that I think about it, it does seem like an important trait a partner should have. You know, if I were looking for a partner. Which I’m not.

We set the beer on the tables, and Danielle makes the rounds pouring it into red plastic cups for anyone who needs a refill while I return to my seat. Then she comes back to stand next to me at the end of the table, takes a Band-aid out of her apron pocket, and quietly sets it on the table next to my crab. Now she’s the one winking at me. I guess that’s a thing we do now.

“Gentlemen, if I could have your attention for a moment.” She clears her throat dramatically, which brings my attention to her neck. It’s a nice neck, and for a moment I picture getting close enough to run my nose from her shoulder to her chin and breathe her in. I wonder what she smells like.

“The Blue Crab restaurant would like to welcome the Blue Crabs baseball team for a dinner of, well, blue crabs.” A few of my teammates whoop and clap. Coach Johnson nods his appreciation to Danielle. Some people turn in their seats to get a better view as she speaks.

Meanwhile, my pants are tight because now my imagination is getting away from me. Jesus. This is embarrassing. I know it’s been a minute since I’ve hooked up with anyone, but I can’t sit here and fantasize about the waitress during a team dinner. I need to shake it off because I don’t have time for those kinds of distractions. I also definitely don’t need Jordan to notice and give me crap about it tonight at home, or worse, on the field. My teammates can’t call me Rookie anymore after this season, so it’s inevitable that I’ll end up with a new nickname. The last thing I need is for something like Woody to stick. I keep my legs firmly planted under the table and just tilt my head to make it seem like I am engaged in what Danielle is saying.

I came to this town for a fresh start. I have to focus on my career and earn my spot in the majors. I need a clear head if I’m going to achieve that goal. I can’t be going around thinking about necks or how much I want to let her hair out of that ponytail right now and run my fingers through it. Nope. No. Not going there either. There will be no thoughts of sniffing or roaming fingers. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly through my nose as she talks, then force myself to picture Cal Ripken’s career highlights so I can cool down while Danielle continues her impromptu speech.

“I know we have some new faces this year, and steamed crabs are not a delicacy in all parts of this great country, so unfortunately not everyone is well-acquainted with them.” She actually puts her hand over her heart and bows her head like it’s a tragedy. Danielle is really making a meal out of this. A silent chuckle shakes my shoulders. Her voice gets louder and her smile widens as she goes on. It’s a pretty great smile. The kind of smile that could make you forget your own goals for a second, which is exactly why this woman is dangerous.

“I’m willing to offer my personal crab-picking tutorial services for the low, low price of a good tip and the promise that you will return to The Blue Crab soon, which let’s be real, you were going to do anyway. We’re the only place in a twenty-mile radius, besides your ballpark, that serves both beer and food.”

Some of the guys laugh, and even though I’ve only just met Danielle, it makes me proud to know she can hold her own with them. The whole team seems to like her. She continues in a more normal tone, “My shift is ending in a few minutes, but as soon as I wrap up my other tables, I’ll be back for you all. I can stay on a while longer to help anyone who would like to learn how to properly and safely clean and eat a crab.” There are a few more half-hearted claps, but most of my teammates just turn back to their food. I smile at Danielle.

Ten minutes later she returns and motions for me to scoot over so she can sit down beside me.