“I work for tips, Jon. I know that doesn’t matter to you, but he’s extremely disrespectful to the waitstaff here, especially the women. You never have our backs.”
“Do you know how many people would kill to have your job and the great shifts I give you?”
It’s terrible, but I wished our closet caper would have at least hospitalized him for a bit of time. I wasn’t sure I could deal with another six months in that place, with those stupid gimmicks and Jon-Jon’s bad treatment.
“I don’t think we should have the tortilla flags anymore, and these outfits are lame.”
“Charlotte.” He braced my shoulders. I shuddered at his touch. “File a complaint with Jack if you’re that unhappy.”
“Maybe I will.”
“You’re phased. Get your tables closed out.”
“I made twelve bucks this morning and I had to drag my ass out of bed at five thirty.”
“Not my problem,” he said, walking away from me.
Why couldn’t I just quit this stupid job? Oh I know, because I have to pay rent.
10. Storm Chasing
Helen and I left our apartment around four and headed toward Lake Elsinore, which is in the middle of fucking nowhere. We hit tons of traffic but managed to make it to the small, minor-league stadium by six. We were both in jeans and T-shirts, trying to play the part of a couple of girls going to see the game, although we did spend a little extra time on makeup and hair. Chucky would have been proud of how thoroughly I flossed.
As we made our way toward our seats, I kept searching for a dude who looked like Seth’s profile picture, but it was hard to pick out faces among the hordes of moms, dads, and little kids.
We found our seats but there was no Seth. There was no one else even sitting in the row with us. I felt my stomach sinking. What if it was a joke some tween, bored out of his mind, decided to play on my poor rejected ass, just to see if I’d be dumb enough to drive over a hundred miles to a baseball game. I could think of nothing but the worst. My only relief was that someone had purchased our tickets for us.
“Guess he’s not here yet,” Helen said. “Kind of lame to be late to a date after you stood the girl up the first time around.”
“Maybe he hit bad traffic? He was coming from the other direction.” I couldn’t believe I was making excuses for him.
“You’re too easy on people, Char. If he’s late today, you can pretty much guarantee he’s the perpetually late type. And a horrendous flake.”
I shrugged and focused my attention on the walkway above us, hoping to see a six-foot-two, handsome guy coming our way.
“You want me to go grab us some beers?” Helen asked.
“Okay,” I said. The game was under way. The Lake Elsinore Storm were out on the field, and some team from Modesto was at bat. Helen returned a few minutes later with two large draft beers and two hot dogs.
“Yuck, you know I hate hot dogs.”
“Fine, don’t eat it; I’ll give it to Seth if he ever shows.” Helen leaned into my face. “I can’t believe he’s not here yet. What a dick.”
“I’m gonna drink this whole beer in one gulp,” I said, staring off into space. Getting stood up twice by the same person was pathetic.
“Hold on. Don’t overreact yet.” She looked at her watch. “If he’s not here by six thirty, we can get up and leave.” The Storm was up to bat and there was a player warming up in the batter’s circle. He had a perfect ass and Helen was watching him. “Or we can stay and watch the game.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Ohhh, baseball pants. Sigh.”
“It’s only the bottom of the first inning. I’ll give him until six forty-five.” I looked at the flexing muscles in the player’s arms as he did a few practice swings. “Or maybe we should just hang out for a bit and enjoy the show, like you said.”
“The game, you mean?”
“Yeah, the game.” I grabbed my beer from the cup holder and began sipping when the announcer’s voice came over the speaker.
“Leading off for the Lake Elsinore Storm, number twelve, center fielder Seth Taylor!”
“WHAT?” Helen and I both shouted. Just before Seth left the batting circle, he turned around and glanced up at me. It was the first time I saw his face in real life. He grinned and then threw his hand up in a brief wave before turning back and heading toward the plate.
If I had to guess what I looked like, I would say I probably resembled one of those Chihuahuas with the abnormally large alien eyes that you see on greeting cards.
Helen elbowed me. “Did you wave, stupid?”
My jaw was on the floor. “Oh my god. He’s literally and figuratively out of my league.”
“Oh shut up! He was totally smiling.”
“Let me watch, be quiet. Oh man, look at his butt. This is so not fair. This is God’s comedy. I have a muffin top and look at him, he’s perfect.”
“Charlotte, you do not have a muffin top. Stop that.”
Seth was down in the count when he hit a blooper deep into right field. “It’s gonna drop, it’s gonna drop!” I yelled as I got to my feet. It did drop. Seth rounded second base and headed for third. “Go, Seth! Go!” All the fans in the stadium were screaming for him. The right fielder fired it to third base but Seth dove and was safe by what looked like an inch.
“That was amazing,” Helen said. “He looks so coordinated. I bet he’s good in bed . . . all long and athletic.” She shivered. “God! Gives me the chills.”
I watched him get to his feet and brush his hands down the front of his uniform. He high-fived the third-base coach and then looked up at me with wonder, squinting. I wanted to know what he was thinking. I couldn’t wait to talk to him. He scored a minute later and jogged back to the dugout without glancing my way.
For the rest of the game he didn’t look up at me, but he did go four for four. He dove twice, fielding hits. He had an amazing game. He was easily the best player on either team.
“I can’t believe he’s not in the majors. He’s so good,” I said, right when the game ended.
A lot of fans started getting up to leave.
“What are you gonna do? He kind of tricked you. Are you okay with that?” Helen asked.
“I don’t know—hopefully he’ll come out. I feel stupid just sitting here. Though my profile did say I liked baseball.”
A second later he came out to the fence right near the on-deck circle. We were about five rows up. He clasped the chain link and leaned into it. “Hey, my little lucky charm. Get down here so we can officially meet,” he called to me.
I stood and walked down the steps, praying I wouldn’t fall, wondering what he thought of my body. “Hello,” I said when I reached the fence.
He was searching my eyes. “I’m Seth.” He wiggled his fingers through the chain link.
I reached up and shook one of his fingers like a moron. “I’m Charlotte.”
“You’re way prettier in real life.”
“I do look better when I’m not in anaphylactic shock.”
He laughed. “That’s right, the bee sting. I thought it was cute.” His mouth settled into a crooked smile.
“You’re a professional baseball player?”
“You found me out. This is the minors, though. It’s not that exciting.”
“I think it’s exciting. You told me you were in college.”
“I am.” He nodded, and then glanced back over his shoulder. “Backup plan. I could pull a muscle and this would all be over. Anyway, the pay’s not that great. Doesn’t that totally impress you?”
“You had an awesome game.”
“Best game of my life, seriously. I hereby declare you my talisman. You have to come to every game from now on and sit in the same seat and wear that shirt and don’t ever wash it.”
I laughed.
“I’m not joking. Baseball players are serious about their superstitions.”
“Maybe I will. I love talking to men through fences.”
“Ah, you’re a little live wire, aren’t you? I like funny girls. Hey, can you give me ten? I’m gonna go shower.” He pointed his thumb behind him.