Page 55 of Playboy Pitcher

Leaving the equipment manager to clean up what’s left of my ego, I pick up my ball cap and head toward the locker room. I barely make it a foot before she falls into step beside me. “Can I help you with something else?” I ask.

Yet again, she ignores my question. “You know, if you stop feeding the strays, they stop coming around.”

I come to a complete stop a few feet before reaching the gate that leads to the locker room. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to guess what the hell that means?”

“Cats, Ben,” she says, cocking a hip. “They wander from house to house searching for food. If they don’t find anything, they move on. If you feed them, they come back. If you keep feeding them, they stay. Make sense?”

“Not in the least.”

Snapping her gum, she tosses her head back in frustration. “The cats are the tabloids. The media soul suckers who paint you as this love ’em and leave ’em bad boy. You feed them by giving them stuff to print. If you stop doing it, they’ll move on to some other idiot.”

I don’t know who this kid thinks she is, but I’m not in the mood to get psychoanalyzed. “Why would I want to do that? They’re just telling the truth.”

“Ben, I’m sixteen, not a moron. You may want to be that guy. You may have even convinced yourself you’re that guy. But you’re not.” Extending a bony finger, she pokes my stomach. “And deep down in there, Playboy Pitcher isn’t who you want to be remembered as.”

I don’t know what to say. This girl confuses the shit out of me, and to be honest, I’m not entirely convinced she’s sixteen. She may look the part, but she tosses out unwanted advice like a crotchety old grandmother.

We walk a few more steps in silence until we reach the gate. This is where her tour ends. Even employee kids are restricted from passing through this fence.

The security guard narrows his eyes as I turn to her. “So, you got a name, kid?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Mal.”

“Mal? Is that short for something?”

“Why, are you writing a report?”

For some reason, that makes me smile. “Okay, Mal. How do you know so much about pitching? Do you play?”

She shrugs, her attention focused across the field. “Nah. Just watch a lot on TV and read a lot of books. I’ve seen all your games, though. You favor your fastball, but your curveball is what they don’t expect. You should use that more.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“For missing half the season last year, your ERA was a pretty solid 2.23. If you had decent second and third basemen to back you up, it’d be even lower. I mean, your rookie year, you ended the playoffs with a 2.04. If that new hire hadn’t thrown the team into the crapper, you’d be under a two by now.”

“I’m impressed,” I say, appraising her through new eyes. Impressed would be putting it mildly. I’m shocked. This girl is spitting out as many obscure baseball stats as most teens know about those damn YouTubers.

She shrugs. “I don’t get to talk baseball much at home.” Frowning, she narrows her eyes. “Hey, good talk, Ben, but I have to go. See ya around.” With a firm pat on my chest, she sprints back down the field and hops the railing.

“Yeah, okay, bye,” I mutter, shaking my head.

Because that wasn’t weird at all.

The security guard opens the gate for me, and I exit the stadium toward the locker room when Kyle comes barreling out with Tuck on his heels.

This should be fun.Leaning against the building, I fold my arms across my chest. “Problem?”

“Ben, you need to get this Willow bitch to calm the hell down.”

“Why me?”

“Why?” he repeats, pacing in front of me while making wild arm gestures. “Because you’re Big Ben, and she’s wound tighter than a fucking cuckoo clock.” When I roll my eyes at his theatrics, he grabs Tuck’s arm and drags him into his tirade. “Dude, she can’t even be bothered to learn our names.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to screw the boss, so she’ll remember your name? Do you hear how stupid that sounds?”

“Not screw her. Take her out. Show her a good time. Turn on the Playboy charm and mellow her ass out.” I push off the wall, about to tell him to piss off, when he adds, “Because if she doesn’t, the team is going to go to Ned.”

That gets my attention.