2. Callie
Chapter 2
Callie
I never enjoy playing the “let’s contemplate my life” game. I’m enjoying it even less now as I stare up at the ceiling in my Hilton Inn hotel room. The popcorn ceiling was definitely a weird choice. How did someone even think this looked good? Also, don’t they release asbestos?
“Ugh, focus, Callie! What are we doing with our life!” I shout to absolutely no one. Between the complete coastal change and only a seventy-two-hour window to make it happen, I’m jet-lagged and overstimulated.
My phone dings on the nightstand alerting me that it’s finally back on. With all the texts I’ve been getting about Adam’s abrupt trade and all the calls I’ve helped Adam make to get everything ready for the move, my phone was beyond dead by the time my butt hit my seat on the plane. My charger is packed in God knows what bag. That is if I even packed it at all. It very well could still be plugged in at Adam’s old place.
The only reason my phone can even ding now, sans phone charger, is because I was able to snag a new one at one of the little convenience stores while manically rushing through the airport because my brother’s teammate said he needed something too. I didn’t pay much attention to what Will needed because I know my brother, he would have dragged me out of the store if I didn’t get in and out. There might have been seventy-two hours to get here but Adam had got it in his head that we needed to be here in forty-eight.
You would think it would have been easy to not forget any of my things considering I randomly showed up at my brother’s door seven months ago with only one duffle bag, a suitcase, and a shred of my sanity left. Who can’t keep track of just the basic necessities? Me, that’s who.
I also can’t seem to get any of my sanity back either. I have no fucking clue what I want to do with my life. I’m twenty-five with a master’s degree from Yale that I didn’t even want and don’t intend to ever use again.
If I had any other option, my butt would have stayed in Seattle. I hate that Boston is so close to home. But I didn’t know what else to do. Right now, I’m living off my savings and mooching off my older brother, who, thank the Lord, loves me enough to not kick me out while I figure out who the hell I am when I’m not under my parent’s thumb.
My phone dings a couple more times, and I internally groan. I’ve answered about a million questions about this trade. At this point, I want to call whoever in the MLB franchise made these trade rules and scream into the speaker.
My phone starts to ring this time, and my eyes nearly roll to the back of my head. Barely moving I blindly reach for my phone, not even looking at who’s calling. “Hello,” I groan.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Stevie. Auntie Cals is in a bad mood, we’ll call her back later.” My best friend’s voice is condescending because she knows there’s no way I’d pass up an opportunity to talk to my little munchkin.
Sitting up against the headboard, I push all my negative energy down. The only teammate of my brother’s who I really talked to was Jett but that was mostly because of his girlfriend, Wyla. We became quick friends—my only friend, if we’re being honest. And don’t even get me started on their daughter. I worked hard to mold her sass to be just like mine. “You better let me talk to my mini me. I miss her already.”
She chuckles. “Are you in the hotel? Wanna FaceTime us?”
“Obviously.” Holding my phone out I click it over to FaceTime.
It takes a minute to connect but then Wyla's face shows on the screen. “Hi, I have someone who?—”
In a flash a little hand blocks the camera, pulling the phone out of her mom’s hands. “Hi, Auntie Cals! Why are you in bed? It’s sunshine time.”
A weak laugh bubbles out. “I’m so sleepy, Stevie Bug. I haven’t slept very much in a few days, and I had a long plane ride.”
Wyla scoots into the frame. “Remember how tired you were after our last plane ride?”
Stevie nibbles on her bottom lip as she thinks. “I guess so. I think I took a nap. Auntie Cals, did you take a nap? You should try that!”
This time my laugh feels a little lighter. “You know, I think you’re right. Are you helping your mommy get everything packed?”
This trade has completely turned everything around on me, and Wyla’s been in the same boat as they get ready to move back to her hometown since Jett decided to retire at the end of this season.
“Yes!” Stevie gives me a proud grin. “We’ve packed so many boxes that we ran out! We had to send Daddy to go get more.”
“I’m sure you did.” I give Stevie a soft smile. “You’re leaving in two days, right?”
Wyla angles the phone in Stevie’s hands so I can see her better before she says, “Yeah, I think this should be the last ‘we need more boxes’ trip I send Jett on. Lord willing. I’m so over packing, I think I’ve told him to just leave some stuff here a million times.”
Sitting up a little straighter, I snort. “You’re over packing? Try having to speed pack on Adam’s crazy time clock.”
“That man doesn’t believe in fashionably late, that’s for sure. Where are the guys now?”
“Meeting with their new general manager and hopefully getting a lead on some housing. They’ve put us in a hotel for now, but only for a week, so we gotta move fast.”
Wyla shakes her head. “The guys can easily pay for some extra nights in a hotel, Cals. Y’all have been going ninety miles an hour. I think a few days of rest will do you good.”
She’s both right and wrong. Rest sounds nice, but… “Wyla, you know damn well I can’t be stuck in the same hotel room as my type A brother for that long. We need walls! I have to hide my chaos somewhere or he will try to organize it.”
Stevie rolls her eyes and huffs, “Language, Auntie Cals.”
“I know, I know.” Stevie is a stickler for cursing. Adam and I get reprimanded quite a bit.
Before anyone else can say anything Adam bursts into the hotel room. “Callie, get your ass up and get ready.”
“Language, Adam!” Stevie yells through the speaker making Wyla laugh.
Adam stomps up and grabs my phone. “I thought I escaped the curse word police. Go yell at your dad.”
I don’t have to see the phone to know she just rolled her eyes at him. Stevie’s four going on fourteen. “Daddy’s not here, he’s getting boxes.”
As the words leave her mouth, she squeals, which tells me Jett just got back. Wyla’s voice comes next. “Babe, come say hi to Adam and Callie.”
I stand up and reach to take my phone back, but Adam jerks it to the side as his best friend comes into frame.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know an Adam,” Jett jokes.
“Yeah, yeah, listen. I don’t have time for this reunion. Say bye to Callie and wish her luck because she has an interview at the complex starting in twenty minutes.”
I’m sorry, what?
“What are you talking about right now? I don’t have an interview!” My voice sounds all loud and squeaky.
Wyla’s question comes next but in a less stressed tone. “Ooo, what job?”
Adam gives me a little nudge before reaching for my travel duffle bag and plopping it on the bed. “Team photographer. Now, say bye!” Adam tilts the phone to me for a second as they all yell “bye” and “good luck” before he clicks it off.
He tosses my phone on the bed before unzipping my bag. “Did you happen to pack anything other than sweatpants in this bag?”
I’m baffled by one, his fucking audacity, and two, the fact that he actually thinks I’m going to an interview right now.
“Have you lost your mind?!” My voice has gone up another octave.
He starts throwing clothes out of my bag before landing on the one pair of jeans I packed in my travel bag. “Here, these’ll do.”
“These…” I sputter as he tosses them to me. “Adam, I am not going to an interview to be your team’s photographer. You’re insane! You were supposed to ask about apartments, not a job!”
My brother huffs as he filters through my shirts next. “Cals, you know I love you, but you’ve been moping around for a year trying to figure out what you want to do.”
Holding back an eye roll, I grumble, “I haven’t moped.”
To anyone else that statement would be true, but to Adam it’s a bald-faced lie. There are not many people that I let see any other side than my happy-go-lucky attitude. Despite our differences, I’m pretty sure he’s the only person I don’t feel this pressure to fill the silences with.
“Here.” Tossing me yet another article of clothing, Adam then goes and grabs my laptop. “You got five minutes to change. I’ve got an Uber waiting downstairs.”
With the click of the hotel door, I’m left to argue with no one. Welp, I guess I’m going to an interview.
The entirety of the car ride over Adam fills me in on the details. The team’s photographer backed out of their offer maybe an hour ago, and while it seems they have plenty of time to find someone before the season actually starts, my brother didn’t hesitate to snag an interview for me as quickly as possible.
“You’ve got some pictures on your laptop, right?” Adam asks as he leads me down the hallways of the complex.
“Yes, but not a lot of sports pictures.” I exhale, trying to let the nerves out and keep up with Adam’s pace. “I mostly took pictures of the city back in Seattle. I doubt that’s what they’re looking for. This is just a silly hobby of mine, Adam.”
Looking back with a half-annoyed look on his face, Adam huffs. “Don’t do that. That’s Dad talking, and I don’t talk to him for a reason. Cals, they're looking for someone who loves photography and takes good pictures—that’s you.”
I do love photography. It’s always been a passion of mine—one my father always aimed to snuff out. One that bit me in the ass before, but that’s not a thought I want to have right now.
When I allow myself to think of what this job could mean, I get a little excited. My pictures could be used for a professional team. Used on their websites, socials, and possibly even for articles with ESPN. There’s so much I could do—blogs, social media campaigns, revamping their brand. It’s always been my creative outlet, but could I make it my career?
I used to take pictures of Adam playing all the time but after what happened at the beginning of this year, baseball players have been on my shit list. I honestly put photography on my shit list for a little bit too, but it’s hard being mad at something you love.
Adam stops abruptly in front of an office, and I can feel my blood pressure shoot up. Hugging my laptop to my chest, my fingers fiddle with the edges. “Adam, I’m nervous.”
Turning to face me, Adam places his bear-paw-sized hands on my shoulders. “Deep breath, Cals. You’ve got this. Nothing bad will happen if you don’t get it, so relax. Forget every interview rule Dad taught you.”
When I start to roll my eyes, he squeezes my shoulders. “This isn’t Dad’s company. Mr. Olsson’s not going to grill you. At the core of any interview, it’s just a conversation. And Callie Reyer knows how to fucking talk so just talk, okay?”
Breathing in through my nose and out my mouth, I nod. “You’re right. Talking, I can do that. I know words…kind of.”
My brother chuckles softly. “That you do. His secretary knows you’re coming so, again, deep breath. You got this.”
As Adam’s hands leave my shoulders, I roll them back, standing a little straighter. “I got this,” I whisper. “Wait, what’s his name again?”
“Olsson. Jim Olsson.” Adam laughs before clapping my back, which causes me to take an involuntary step forward. “Text me when you’re done. I’m going to go explore my new office until then.”
That makes me laugh a little bit. “Isn’t this whole place your office?”
“Yeah, isn’t that fucking cool?”
I shake my head as I take another deep breath.
I can do hard things…I’ve done harder.
Okay, I’m…kind of ready. Twisting the knob to the office door, I step in, and at first all I can see is the field. Windows from the ceiling to the floor make up the wall that overlooks the entire stadium. It’s gorgeous and beyond massive. The stadium in Seattle was nice, but this one is incredible.
“Wow,” I mumble.
“Pretty cool, right?” A female voice says off to the side.
Swallowing my startled yelp, I try to come off as poised as the girl my parents tried to force me to be. Adam might have told me to throw all those thoughts out the window, but old habits aren’t that easy to kick.
Turning toward the voice, I find a woman, probably early thirties, who has to be the complete opposite of me—beautiful sleek black hair and porcelain skin. She looks so refined in her pencil skirt and silk blouse.
“It’s quite the view. I imagine it makes the workday a little less dull.” I smile as I hold out my hand. “I’m Callie Reyer. I’m here to interview for the photographer opening.”
I get a quick glance from head to toe that I’m not really sure how to interpret. If my father saw me even thinking about an interview in jeans and a white button up, he’d have an aneurysm. My first instinct is to apologize, but this was not my plan. I didn’t anticipate an interview for today—surely they can understand that.
Finally giving me a half smile, she says, “I’m Shannon, Mr. Olsson’s secretary. He’s been waiting for you. Follow me.” She clicks her heels as she turns and I begin to feel I’ve lost before I’ve even started but letting her undermine my confidence won’t help me.
I can do hard things…I've done harder.
Following behind Shannon, I repeat my mantra with deep breaths.
“Well, you must be Callie Reyer.” A man stands from behind his desk as we walk in. His smile is wide, and a little weight falls off my shoulders when I realize Mr. Olsson is wearing jeans and a Blues t-shirt. “I told Adam not to force you out here today, but he was insistent that he had the right person for this job.”
Ah, freaking Adam. Smiling through my internal curse to my brother, I laugh. “Yes, patience isn’t exactly his virtue, but everyone needs a pusher in their life, don’t ya think?”
“That they do.” Stretching out his hand for a shake, he says, “Jim Olsson.”
“Callie,” I say as I return his hand but then shake my head. “We established that already.” A nervous laughter escapes me.
“I assumed. You were just confirming.” Mr. Olsson sits back in his chair and motions for me to take a seat. “I imagine your brother filled you in on the current situation, so there’s no need to get into those details. Adam said you were the perfect fit for the job, let’s focus on that.”
Perfect fit. Damn, Adam, pressure much?
I might not have a ton of sports pictures ready, but if I’m feeling bold, I’ve got some incredible shots that can back my brother up.
“Well, I could sit here and tell you all the reasons why I think I would be great at this job, but nothing quite shows that I’m capable as actual proof.”