Chapter Four #2
Razor investigated the bullpen and saw a young woman with blond pigtails hanging out the back of her helmet. Good stance, balanced. She looked comfortable. And she squared the ball over the plate. Razor’s blood boiled. She excused herself, then stalked over to Courtney and Ashton.
“You said you didn’t have a catcher,” she growled.
“We don’t,” Courtney said.
“Then who is that?” Razor pointed to Harper. Ashton and Courtney looked to each other but gave no response. Razor huffed and walked down the steps into the dugout. “I’ve never stolen a spot from a player, and I’m not going to start now.”
She threw her helmet into her bag and unclipped her chest guard. A light touch on her shoulder spun her around, bringing her face to face with a contrite Ashton.
“Before you go storming off, let me explain,” she said.
“Harper is a good kid, a good player. But she’s a nursing major, and her internship at the hospital conflicts with our practice schedule.
” She laid a hand on Razor’s chest. “I promise, you’re not stealing anything from anyone.
What we need is time to develop Harper into an elite catcher.
Would you be willing to help us do that as well as play? ”
Razor’s anger waned as she realized what Ashton was saying. They didn’t just want a catcher. They wanted a teacher, a leader. They wanted a coach.
“Please, come back up,” Ashton begged.
Razor closed her eyes and took deep, calming breaths. She looked up and saw a worried Courtney. Nancy stood next to her, eyebrow raised, arms crossed, silently asking Well? She turned back to Ashton and nodded, then picked her helmet up.
“Okay. Break time’s over,” Nancy shouted. “Summer, you’re up.”
Summer strutted out of the bullpen, irritation radiating off her in waves. “About time. I’ve been ready for almost an hour.”
She walked past Razor, who snickered.
“What’s so funny?” Summer asked.
“Nothing,” Razor said. “It’s nice to see a fellow lover of the game is all.”
By the flustered look on her face, Summer didn’t expect the comment, and she cleared her throat. “Well, let’s not keep it waiting any longer.” She continued to the circle while Razor took her position behind the plate.
“Harper, take that gear off and grab a bat,” Nancy ordered.
Harper’s hair was staticky as the helmet came off. She was tall and lanky, almost rail thin, which was unusual for a catcher. But there was evidence of strong muscles in her calves and thighs. With proper development, Razor thought, she could excel at the catcher position.
Razor turned back to Summer in time to see the ball hurled at her head. She quickly positioned her glove in front of her mask in time to catch it. She leaned over just enough and saw a smirk on Summer’s lips.
“So that’s how it’s going to be,” she murmured. Reflexively, she threw the ball back, and they were off and running. By the time Harper stood inside the batter’s box, both Razor and Summer were sufficiently warm.
“Let’s start off nice and easy,” Courtney instructed.
“Yeah. You know what to do,” Nancy added, her gaze squarely on Harper.
Summer went through her wind-up, reared back, and let the ball go with all her power behind it.
Harper swung haphazardly and missed it by a mile, garnering cheers from the team.
The next pitch was lower than the first. Harper’s weight shifted forward, and the bat’s momentum moved toward the strike zone.
Razor said, “No,” and all of Harper’s momentum stopped. She froze midswing and watched the ball skip off the dirt in front of the plate.
On the third pitch, Summer delivered it belt high. Harper ground her lead foot into the dirt and pushed all her momentum onto her big toe. The ball, however, landed safely in Razor’s glove.
“Did you see her face?” Razor said to Harper, gesturing to Summer. Harper shook her head. “She was relieved ’cause she knew she made a mistake. If you’d made contact, it probably would’ve been a single.”
Harper looked to Summer then back at Razor. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. You have a good swing when you don’t shy away from the ball. Keep swinging like that, and you’ll start making contact.”
A shy smile crept onto Harper’s lips as Razor slapped her on the shoulder.
“Are we practicing or having social hour?” Summer shouted.
Razor ground her teeth. There was a line between swagger and being mean, and Summer was about to cross it.
“Are you always this disrespectful to people trying to help?”
“I don’t need help. I’m the best pitcher on this team.”
The entire field went deathly silent. Even Nancy didn’t provide a witty retort. Razor looked at Courtney and Ashton, and she hoped her unspoken question would be clear. It was. They smiled and nodded their acquiescence, so Razor turned back to Harper and said, “Can I borrow your bat?”
Harper surrendered it, and Razor turned to Summer.
“I’ll tell you what, best pitcher, if you can get one strike by me, I’ll agree to that title and leave you alone.”
Summer looked to Nancy and received a shrug. “Okay, you’re on.” Razor stepped into the batter’s box. “Don’t you want to take your gear off?”
Razor held the bat parallel to her torso before taking a couple of easy swings. “Nope. I’m good.”
Behind her, she heard Harper ask, “Want me to catch?”
Razor laughed. “She won’t get anything past me.” She said it loud enough for Summer to hear. Summer fumed and quickly worked her wind-up and tossed the ball with as much power and energy as she could muster. Razor expected the reaction and made easy contact, sending the ball to center field.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that.”
Next was a rise ball that didn’t rise, which resulted in a line drive to left field. With each pitch, Razor made contact, spraying the ball to all parts of the field. Eventually, Summer’s frustration affected her form so much the ball barely spun out of her hand.
On the last pitch, she threw it as hard as possible. The ball was perfectly symmetrical. Tight spin, high velocity. A beautiful fastball, and Razor spotted it easily. She swung the bat on time and made contact. The sound was so pure, there wasn’t any doubt the ball left the park.
Summer turned back after watching the ball land in the parking lot, marched to home plate, and stood toe-to-toe with Razor. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Razor turned to Courtney and Ashton. She smiled, then turned back to Summer and held out her hand.
“My name is Razor Mitchell, and I’m your new catcher.”
* * *
“What should we toast to?”
Ashton looked at the wooden beams on her ceiling and pondered Nancy’s question. “How about a successful season.”
Nancy reached across the expanse of the couch and clinked her wineglass to Ashton’s. “I can certainly get behind that.”
Ashton sipped her sparkling wine, loving the sweet berry tones as the bubbles tickled her nose. Normally, she didn’t indulge in alcohol during the week while school was in session, but it’d been an exhausting day. Plus, it was Thursday, close enough to the weekend to justify it, just this once.
“Looks like your worries were all for naught,” Nancy said, settling farther into the plush leather couch.