Page 6

Tate

T he morning sun spills through my window. I stretch and yawn, dreading the day ahead. I don’t have time to lounge around. I have to get up and get ready; The limo will be here in a few hours.

I don’t want to go. I’d rather have a lazy morning in bed. But my agent thinks this could be a good opportunity, both to make money and to keep my name in the public eye. I strongly disagree.

I have zero interest in exhibition baseball. I barely tolerate watching the real thing. It’s boring. And I don’t see how going from professional rugby to make-believe baseball is a plus. In my opinion, it’s a major downgrade and only serves to remind me that my best days are behind me.

I get out of bed and trudge to the bathroom. I study my face in the mirror. Time is starting to catch up to me. Thin lines are settling around my eyes. This whole fucking day is one giant reminder that I’m no longer twenty-five. This sucks .

“Fuck it. I still look good,” I say to remind myself that I have better things to do than dwell on the shit I don’t have anymore.

Walking away from my reflection, I turn the shower on. Standing under the hot spray, I scrub my hands over my face and slick back my hair before stretching my back and working the kinks out. Getting old sucks. Time to put my public face on and get ready to play nice with the bigwigs.

At least I won’t have to suffer through the game alone. When I asked Teddy if he wanted to come with, he screamed like a little girl damaging my ear drum. He was so excited, I thought he might find a way to astral project himself from his dorm room to my house and throw his arms around me.

He actually wants to go see this hodgepodge of former players and pseudo players—those that will never be good enough to go pro—play their twisted version of the sport they love.

The team draws crowds, I have to give them that.

They’ve become such a big deal, they’re practically a household name, and tickets are hundreds of dollars.

Since I’m being wined and dined, I get mine for free.

Teddy asked to bring Gemma. I have enough capital with the franchisee to negotiate the extra tickets and swag.

For now. Until I decline their more than generous offer.

With four free tickets and no date, I told Teddy to invite Gemma’s mother as well.

This should earn me brownie points, because I’d bet my bottom dollar that the woman still doesn’t like me.

Baseball’s more familiar in the States and should be easier for her to follow along with than rugby, even if exhibition rules are somewhat different than in a regulation game. Maybe this will help her see I’m not the jerk she’s convinced I am.

After shaving and dressing, I enjoy a cup of coffee before the car arrives. Not going to lie, I’m dreading this whole day. Maybe I should bring along a flask full of vodka?

“THANK YOU SO MUCH, Uncle Tate! We’re so excited.

” Teddy squeezes Gemma’s hand. They look cute in their jeans and Nurple jerseys.

I had no idea my nephew liked this team so much.

Honestly, it’s hard for me to think of it as a team.

It’s not like they play in a league and face real competition.

They play the same group of flunkies night after night.

“What’s an uncle for if he can’t get you tickets to the hottest game around.”

“Did they really offer you a contract? You are going to play for them, aren’t you?”

“Yes, they seriously want me to play for them,” I look out the window. “But no. I can’t see it happening.”

“Aww, that sucks,” Gemma adds.

“For them,” I add. “By the way, Gemma, I need to give your address to the driver so we can pick your mother up.”

“No worries. She isn’t coming.”

“What do you mean she isn’t coming?” Didn’t you tell her I have an extra ticket?”

“Yes, but—” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes like not having her overbearing mother here really bothers her, which is beyond doubtful. “If you couldn’t tell, she’s not into sports. She said coming to Teddy’s game fills her quota for the decade.”

What an ungrateful– “This isn’t your average baseball game. Did you tell her that?”

“I tried to explain, but,” Gemma shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know.” She says the last two words as if they’re one. “She doesn’t want to come. Maybe because Dad always had a game on when he was home. Trust me, my mother is no fun. It’s better that she’s not here.”

“The hell it is.” She’s going to come and have fun whether she likes it or not.

“IS THIS THE HOUSE?” I ask Gemma when she finds the willpower to pull her lips away from my nephew’s neck. Her mother better come. I need someone to keep these two covered in cold water while I talk money with my agent and the owner.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right back.” I open the car door and look back at the kissing twins before heading toward the front door.

I ring the bell. There’s no sound of movement coming from the other side. I try again. Still nothing. I examine the outdoor setup to see if she has a camera. Doesn’t look like it. But if she doesn’t know it’s me, why isn’t she answering the door?