Page 11

ELEVEN

PARKER

“ K ing, a word.”

Slamming my locker door shut, I turned to find Coach standing in the archway, only for him to walk off. I guess it was my cue to follow.

A loud chorus of ooohs from the guys trailed me as I jogged after him, though not before I flipped everyone the bird.

He was waiting for me by the couches, arms crossed and perched on the back of the longest one, which separated out this area of the locker room. We called it a locker room, though it was kind of misleading for the facilities we had here, given the overall space—at five thousand square feet—was bigger than most houses.

Shepherd had the place specially designed to provide anything we needed when we needed it and separated out into zones, including downtime before a game—board games, cards, Xbox, or PlayStation—there were even bunk beds for anyone who wanted a quick nap. At the opposite end of the couch we were currently standing by, two of the rookies were fighting it out on Call of Duty .

I stopped in front of him. “Yeah, Coach.”

“What’s the latest on this form you’re signing?” he barked out.

Coach Chase had come from the Yankees, where he’d been bench coach.

A phenomenal player in his day, spending the majority of his career as shortstop for the Mariners before moving to the Braves, where he’d won two championship rings. After a couple more years bouncing around teams, he retired and moved into managing.

In the nearly fifteen years since, he’d become well respected for handling both the players’ needs and the clubs’ in equal balance. He could relate to what we were going through because he’d lived it. He was fair, rounded, and well liked.

Over that time, however, he’d certainly perfected that stern don’t mess with me scowl, just like the one he had trained on me right now as he peered over his bifocals, expecting me to know what he was talking about.

I didn’t.

“What?”

“Have you signed it?”

I tugged at the collar of my tee, which suddenly felt way too tight. “You mean the dating thing?”

“What else would I be talking about?”

I shrugged. “Beats me, Coach.”

“Well?”

My brows knotted tightly in annoyance. “I’m not dating anyone.”

Coach stayed silent, though the way his eyes bored into me spoke volumes. He didn’t believe me. Which pissed me off.

“No. I’ve not signed it, because I don’t need to…I thought you only had to sign it if you started dating someone who worked here. I’m not, so I haven’t. I asked her on a date, she said no. End of story.” I stared at Coach, Coach stared back. “Wait…I have to sign it just because I like her? That is fucked up.”

“Nothing fucked up about this season, King. Shepherd is not fucking around. HR is not fucking around. I need you on this team, otherwise we have Barry to work with,” He snapped, mentioning one of the Lions’ backup catchers.

I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths. God, this was humiliating.

“I don’t see what difference it makes who I’m dating. Or not dating,” I added quickly. Not that he believed me.

“We don’t want distractions this season.”

My hand flicked between the two of us. “Isn’t this a distraction? Pulling me up for something I’ve not done.”

“Do I look stupid to you?”

“Eh?”

“You think I don’t know what’s going on right under my nose? You don’t think I don’t notice you trying to get that girl’s attention? You don’t think that’s a distraction?” Biting down on my cheek was all I could do to stop the grimace, especially when Coach was still staring at me. “I’m telling you that it is. While you’re here in this stadium, your focus should be one hundred percent on the task at hand. You’re a catcher, Parker. You have to see the whole field and be able to read the play five steps ahead. And you can’t do that if you’re distracted by getting this girl’s attention.”

“I’m not distracted.” I gritted as my cheeks puffed out the breath I’d been holding. “What do you want me to do? I can’t make her date me.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t care. Just keep it out of the locker room.” He pushed off the couch back, making it clear this confusing-as-fuck—and totally pointless, if you asked me—conversation was over. “Now get your ass to the cages before you’re late.”

As he walked off, my eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. I had thirty minutes before practice started. I was already changed, and it took me approximately five minutes to walk from here to the cages, walk slowly.

Maybe Coach was losing it. That would explain his weird behavior. And this weird conversation.

And why he made no sense at all.

Given his parting shot was about not caring what I did, I assumed that meant he didn’t care about what I didn’t do either. Therefore I wasn’t signing that stupid form for no reason.

I was still chewing on it when Ace appeared. “Hey, what was that about?”

I shook my head. “I dunno. Coach is…he’s being so weird about this form thing. I don’t get it. Why does he care about me being friends with Scout?”

Ace shrugged. “Maybe it’s about what happens when you become more than friends.”

“But there’s no guarantee that’s ever going to happen,” I snapped.

As I said it, my chest squeezed tight enough that it was all I could do to rub away the sensation I hadn’t felt in a while; the sadness dragging through me as it dawned on me that there was a strong possibility Scout and I would never be more than friends.

No matter how much I joked around with her, or helped her carry shit, ordered her coffee…anything to get her to notice me, maybe the timing was all wrong.

She had her new job to concentrate on. Not that any of it mattered to Coach.

I shook it off as quickly as it arrived. Focus, Parker. Get your head in the game.

“Hey, you wanna come up to HR with me?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, put it this way. You’re coming up to HR with me.”

“I can’t.” Ace’s head flopped back with a loud groan. “I have to go see the doc. I have the VO2 max test.”

My own groan echoed his. I wasn’t sure who wanted to do their thing less. Him or me. The VO2 max test was gross, and something every player in the roster had on their schedule once a week. But I’d take it over a trip to the sixth floor.

“I’ll swap with you.” I laughed.

“Seriously, dude, why are you going up to HR?”

“Because Coach will ask. He wants me to sign the form.”

“But you’re not dating,” he added unhelpfully.

“I know we’re not. But if Coach asks whether I went up, I can say yes.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his head, followed by ten seconds of silence as we walked down the corridor. “You know, this could be a positive. That everyone has faith you’ll seal the deal.”

“I guess.”

“Well”—Ace slapped me on the back as we stopped by the stairs leading down to where Ace was headed—“good luck. I’ll be done in an hour if I haven’t died.”

“You’ll be fine,” I assured him, though I was also aware death was a distinct possibility. Even occasionally preferable.

Five minutes later I stepped out on the floor where HR sat and stared at the welcome board that split up the floor, detailing where each department was located. It definitely wasn’t as welcoming as Scout’s floor, and there were no cardboard cutouts of Jupiter either.

I’d only ever been up here a couple of times. HR was on the same floor as legal. While I’d never had any need to visit the legal department, the first season Shepherd took ownership, Ace used to drag me up to complain on a near daily basis about how PlayStation hadn’t got his likeness right for The Show . It was therefore up to legal to do something about it.

It hadn’t been long before he’d been banned from visiting them.

Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure if that ban still stood, or if it was on a season-by-season basis.

What was I even doing up here? This was so dumb.

Scout wasn’t distracting me, my stats already this season could attest to that. My on-base plus slugging was .568 so far. I’d had six home runs in seventeen games. I’d been catching well and hitting well. I’d been training my ass off.

In fact, I’d never felt better.

Nothing to do with Scout.

I peered around, everyone looked way too serious. What exactly was I supposed to say? Hey, I like a girl that works here, d’you want my signature?

Yeah, no.

I was still staring at the board, trying to figure out what to do, when the elevator doors pinged behind me.

“Parker?”

I spun around and came face to face with the reason I was standing here in the first place. Or chest to face, given that’s about where she reached.

Was this a coincidence?

“Oh, hey.”

“Hey.” Her smile lit up her face. “What are you doing up here?”

“No—oh, um, nothing. Ace needed me to come up for something,” I spat out the first thing that came to mind. “He’s not allowed up here. It’s a whole story.”

Scout gave me a look that said exactly what I was feeling right now. Dumbass.

“What are you doing here?”

“This stopped working, I need to get a new one.” She waved her access card at me. “Are you on your way back down, or just got here?”

I thumbed behind me. “Heading down.”

“I’ll be two minutes if you want to wait for me?” She shrugged.

“Yeah. You bet,” I replied, then wished I hadn’t been so enthusiastic. But fuck it. “I mean, sure. Go and I’ll wait here.”

I stayed where I was as she rushed off.

Visiting HR hadn’t been quite as dumb as I’d originally thought.