Page 3 of Just for the Cameras
And sure, I told him to lock me in with the Foghorns with a no-trade clause so I could remain here for the longevity of my career, but Jesus Christ, I didn’t mean give away all my goddamn rights.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m going to a fucking zoo today.”
He winces. “By yourself?”
I shake my head and move toward the mats, where I grab a band and start stretching my sore muscles. “No. There are two dickheads from the Bombers and the Rogue coming too.”
“Is it Asher Peppers?” Hutton asks. “I went to school with him at Brentwood. When I moved back here, I tried meeting up with him, but he’s been a recluse.”
“No, some new kid. He didn’t speak once the entire time. Bennett Brinkman.”
“Oh yeah, he’s the third baseman. Fucking killer of an arm. He has potential to be a franchise player.”
“How do you know this?” I ask.
“I pay attention to what’s going on in our city. Doesn’t hurt to make friends with people other than me, you know?”
“I’m barely friends with you.”
He clutches his chest. “You wound me, man.” He helps me stretch my hamstrings as I lie back and he pushes at my ankle. “Who’s the other guy?”
I roll my eyes. “Some clown who’s going to test me.”
A smile creeps over his mouth. “Is it Oden O’Connor?”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
He chuckles. “He’s the only Rogue player I could think of who’d be even slightly marketable to the public. The rest of the team are a bunch of assholes, castaways, and players who are too much of a problem to deal with. The owners put them all on the same team. It’s going to be a recipe for disaster, and I can’t fucking wait to watch it play out.”
“Well, he’s a moron.”
“I’ve seen his socials; he’s more…lighthearted. He came from the Vancouver Agitators. I remember the uproar around the trade. I don’t think the dude has a fighting chance on that team. They’re going to eat him up.”
“Why did they sign him if he’s not like the others?” I ask, hating my curiosity because the less I know about the other guys, the better.
“Because they needed someone fast and someone who could score; he was the one.”
“Well, he seems like a tool.”
I switch legs and Hutton pushes at my heel, almost giving me more of a stretch than I can handle, but I breathe it out.
“So what do you think you’re going to do at the zoo?” he asks.
“No fucking idea, but I can tell you one thing I won’t be doing.”
“Making friends?”
“That and picking up animal shit.”
“They’re not going to have you do that. If anything, they’ll probably take pictures of you holding your arm out while a bird rests on you. People will think it’s cute and then you move on with your life. Seriously, this public appearance shit is a breeze. Show up, smile, move on.”
“Yeah, I fucking hope so.”
Gretchen Michaels:Reminder: You’re expected to smile, take pictures, and sign anything held your way. You are yes-men,you’re there to help, show interest, and attempt to look like God’s gift to San Francisco. Any other behavior, and you’ll be fined by your respective teams.
I stare down at the text and hold back a growl. I don’t think I’ve ever hated a woman the way I hate her.
