Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Leighton
I show up to the baseball field with Lincoln and Monroe, a bag of T-shirts the park district gave me, and some equipment.
After the home visit, Hayes stayed for a while and demonstrated some exercises I could have the team do to build their skills.
Between those and the ones I researched, I was feeling pretty confident until now.
Lincoln is still doubtful that I can coach this team, and as he was going to bed, he begged Hayes to be here to help tonight. I’m sure Hayes would, but they had a game this afternoon and then a press thing, so Lincoln promised to give him a recap tonight on the phone.
Lake has been on me for details about my relationship with Hayes, but I’m keeping firm on my decision not to tell any of the kids that it is indeed fake.
“Where is everyone?” Lincoln whines, already in his T-shirt and shorts.
Monroe picks up a ball. “Why can’t I play?”
“This is just for nine-year-olds, but Aunt Lily is going to come and watch you during practice.” I try to force excitement into my tone, but who am I kidding? No way will my mom let Monroe go play at the park with all the other siblings.
Lake decided to go to a friend’s house, and maybe I should’ve told her I wanted her to come to watch Monroe with my mom, but I don’t want her to take on any more than she already has. She deserves to be a kid.
Lincoln and Monroe throw the ball back and forth, and thankfully, Lincoln is being cautious. Then again, he knows that Monroe is his only teammate at home, so he better make sure she enjoys playing catch. Lord knows his older sister isn’t going to throw the ball around with him.
A few families arrive, and the parents come over to introduce themselves to me and get their child a T-shirt. I’m surprised when they all stick around instead of just dropping off their child.
Guess I’m doing their first practice with an audience. Awesome.
“You look like you need some help there,” a man says. I look over to find that he’s dressed in athletic shorts, a matching T-shirt, and hat with the initials Pbr. Professional Bull Riding? Huh. That’s cool.
His kid must be the last one I was waiting for. I check my clipboard and cross the name Rawlings off the list. After shaking the dad’s hand and handing out the T-shirt, I turn to go back to where the boys are messing around, ready to get started.
“I’ll help you.” He jogs to catch up to me.
The league told me that it would be hard to find assistant coaches since I grabbed the last spot, and no one else seemed to want it, so this is a pleasant surprise.
“Oh, thanks.”
A few of the moms on the other side of the fence are talking to each other, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. I worry it might not be good things about me.
“I used to play shortstop back in the day. Rawlings has an older brother, Wilson, who plays shortstop now.”
“Oh, that’s cool.” I give him a smile. I look at my list of instructions, thankful for the help but more nervous now that I’m not alone with the boys.
“What’s on the clipboard?” His head is suddenly right next to mine, peering at my papers.
I bring them down to my side. “Boys, pair up and throw to one another.” I turn to… “I’m sorry, what’s your name? I’m Leighton.”
“Mike, but people call me Butter.”
I nod. “Nice to officially meet you. I think I’ll call you Mike.”
“Ah.” He waves. “Butter is good. It’s a nickname from back in high school.
Smooth like butter…” He skates his hand in a flat line in front of him, but I don’t really get the reference.
“My glove skills.” His expression tells me he’s upset that I didn’t understand.
“So, do you mind if I check out your list?” He points at the clipboard.
“Oh, it’s just some drills that my boyfriend wrote up for me. In case I needed them.” I don’t hand him the clipboard.
“Doesn’t think you have what it takes for this team to make it to the championship?”
My eyes scrunch. Is that what the expectation is?
That I win this team a trophy? I glance to the outfield where the boys are throwing balls at one another.
And I only say throwing because I don’t see a lot of catching, but I do see a lot of running after errant balls.
I think I might have bit off a little more than I can chew.
“He just wanted me to have a starting point. He played a little too.” I’m not going to get into exactly who my boyfriend is because for one, he’s not my actual boyfriend.
“Yeah, cool. I’m sure he wanted to show off the fact he played rec ball once too.” Mike elbows me and laughs. “I’m gonna be honest with you.” He widens his stance and crosses his arms. “I wanted your coaching spot.”
I blink at him. “Oh. The office said—”
“I was on vacation.” He shrugs with one shoulder.
“And Bill—you know, the organizer for rec baseball—he was supposed to hold it for me, but he was out on medical leave. Anyway, I’m happy to take over for you.
I mean, I coached my older son, and I’ve been coaching Rawlings since he was little.
No offense. You just look a little in over your head. ”
I glance at the other parents. There are mostly moms by the dugout, and there are a few dads at the fence line, instructing their kids on how to catch the ball. Then there’s another group of dads in the outfield, hanging out over by the fence.
“I really appreciate the offer, Mike—”
“Butter.”
“Butter,” I say. “But I’d like to do this myself.
No offense. You probably don’t know this, but Lincoln’s parents passed away in an accident a couple of months ago, and I think it would mean a lot to him if I coached.
But I really appreciate the offer. The assistant job is still up for grabs if you want it. ”
The last thing I want is this guy assisting me, but I don’t see any other parents volunteering, so I’ll have to grin and bear it. Then again, maybe if he can’t bulldoze me to the side to be head coach, he and Rawlings will hightail it to another team.
“Oh damn, which little guy is it?”
“The one with the Colts hat.” I don’t mention that it’s signed by three Colts players.
“I’m sorry, and yeah, I’ll totally assist.” Mike runs his hand down the back of his head and pulls at his neck, looking at one of the other fields.
“Actually, I have a buddy who coaches the other team, and he was saying we could scrimmage. You know, if you’re up for it.
Might show you who should play where, you know? ”
I glance in the direction he’s looking, where there’s a shorter man also wearing the Pbr hat, but his T-shirt says PG. I have no idea what the PG stands for, or that there are so many rodeo fans around here.
To be honest, when Hayes was showing me the drills, I wasn’t taking the best notes.
I was mostly watching him and his legs, his hands, and his strong thighs that I so badly wanted to straddle.
It’s hard not to imagine riding them, they’re so muscular.
What they might feel like grinding against my clit—
“Leighton,” Mike says.
I blink my eyes out of my daydream. “Sure. Sounds good.” I press my hand to my cheek. “I’m just going to get some water.”
“I’ll go tell Randy.” He jogs away, and I’m thankful for the reprieve.
When I make my way to the bag near the dugout, one of the moms there grabs my attention.
“Did he try to take over your coaching job?” she asks as I swallow a gulp of water. “He’s been talking a lot of shit the last couple weeks. I’m Aimee.” She holds out her hand.
“Hi, Aimee, I’m Leighton.”
“Don’t let him bully you. Stand your ground. We’ll back you up.” She turns to the other moms. “Her name is Leighton, ladies.”
They each come over and introduce themselves, telling me which child is theirs. I’ll never remember, but I’m glad to hear they weren’t talking shit about me.
Mike jogs back over. “Randy’s in.”
“Oh, I thought it was his idea.” I frown, pulling out the catcher gear the district gave me.
He waves off my comment. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I meant.”
I call the boys over, already done with Mike or Butter or whatever he wants me to call him.
Once they’ve all made their way over, I address the group. “We’re going to play a scrimmage with the other team.”
All the boys look at the team walking over. They all have their matching orange shirts on, and each boy has baseball pants, belts, eye paint, and is that an elbow guard on the one? What did I sign these poor kids up for?