chapter 15
“Hey Ty.”
“Hey Mark.” I smiled at the maintenance worker, jogging down the hall, the path one I’d taken a thousand times.
Easier on days like this, when the place was deserted, no conversations to halt forward progress, no packs of bodies to squeeze around, no executives to avoid.
Not that I ever had to hide. But the less I was seen, the better.
Yankee management has been extremely understanding about my travel with the team, my role as ball girl, and my constant presence over the last seven years.
Prior to the Yankees, we’d been with Pittsburgh, a ball club who hadn’t been nearly as understanding.
Maybe the Yankees allowed me around because I was Mr. Grant’s favorite.
Or maybe it was because Dad was the best closer in the business, and they liked to collect rings. Whatever the reason, I was grateful.
I rounded the corner and hit the player lobby, the front desk empty, Dad’s code getting me through the double doors and into the locker room.
I slowed to a walk, moved past the club chairs and ping pong tables, grabbed an apple from the food bar and leaned on the door to the inner sanctum, a place I rarely went during peak times, the possibilities of a penis sighting too high; that was something I had no interest in seeing.
I took a bite of the apple and pushed off the door, letting it swing shut behind me. Then I stumbled to a halt, my world stopping dead at the man who stood naked before me.