Chapter Two
The sun was completely gone by the time they reached the Walnut Ridge town line.
They drove through the brightly lit business district to the east side of town, where they were plummeted into darkness, which made the white warehouse glowing under the stadium lights impossible to miss.
Courtney maneuvered her car onto a secluded gravel road and headed straight for the building with the Slugfest logo illuminated by neon backlighting.
Ashton huddled close to Courtney and Nancy as they walked toward the entrance in an effort to ward off the biting cold prickling her skin.
They passed a darkened area to the left, but it was easy to see the outline of cages against the dim lighting overhead and a small sign reading Outdoor Cages Will Reopen in the Spring.
“How did you know?”
Ashton turned at Nancy’s question.
“How did I know what?”
“You said Razor was one of the best catchers to play the game back in Courtney’s office. How did you know that? You were gone before she really started playing.”
Ashton didn’t have an easy answer. Yes, she’d never officially played with Razor.
Ashton had already been the ripe old age of twenty-two when she’d transferred into San Diego State.
Outside of practice and warm-ups, they didn’t really have a lot of interaction because Ashton was the team’s ace pitcher, and Razor was a first year—a cocky first year who boldly asked her out on a date.
Something in Razor’s demeanor, like she expected Ashton to say yes, got Ashton’s ire up, and she’d not only declined, saying she had a girlfriend, but she’d rubbed salt in the wound and added, “Besides, I don’t date teenagers.
” She usually wasn’t so cold, and if she’d known it’d lead to one of the most embarrassing moments of her career and a permanent reminder of Razor, Ashton would’ve handled the entire first encounter differently.
Despite those hiccups, and her vow to stay far away from her, Ashton had been in awe of Razor’s work ethic and talent.
Something in the way she played and interacted with her teammates spoke to Ashton.
She couldn’t explain that she’d seen something in Razor that made her an amazing athlete and human being, nor how her admiration developed into a small crush.
Which meant she definitely couldn’t reveal how she’d followed Razor’s career at San Diego State right up until Razor’d left to—according to the reports—deal with a private family matter.
No. There was no way Ashton could explain this to Nancy without looking ridiculous or lovesick. The line between the two was already thin. So she lied.
“Just because I was overseas doesn’t mean I didn’t follow the sports news here. She was everywhere. Her ability to help pitchers maintain their composure and be a solid hitter made her headline news.”
“Uh-huh,” Nancy said, dragging out the sound. Her suspicious gaze bored into Ashton.
“She was a dream behind the plate,” Courtney added, drawing attention away from the awkwardness, her breath visible in the cold air.
“She made pitching so much easier for me. Had a sixth sense for when I was struggling and needed her guidance, and when I was locked in, she let me be. Which is why we need her now.”
They reached the entrance, and Nancy grabbed the door. “Well, let’s see if she’s still got it and willing to be the pitcher whisperer one more time.”
The heat hit Ashton’s face, her limbs thawing enough for her to take in her surroundings.
While the warehouse looked unassuming on the outside, the interior was impressive.
Silk netting surrounded the cages, and artificial turf lined every inch of floor space.
Clear and readable signs listed safety regulations, as well as info about group discounts and parties.
Some kids sat on benches laughing. Others stood in cages with helmets and metal bats, ready to hit a home run.
Ashton smiled when a boy about four years of age hit the ball and jumped up and down, excited.
Distracted by all the surrounding enthusiasm, Ashton ran headlong into the back of a tall, middle-aged man.
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed.
When he turned, his smile was polite, and his hat dipped over his eyes in a way that made Ashton think it didn’t fit properly. “Quite all right, little lady. My name’s Jimmy, and I’m the assistant manager of Slugfest. What brings you by?”
Courtney answered, “We’re here to see Kelly Mitchell. Is she around?”
“You mean Razor?”
“I apologize. Yes, I mean Razor. Is she available? I’m Courtney Dyer, the new head coach of Western University’s softball team.”
“It’s good to meet you, Coach.” Jimmy shook Courtney’s hand vigorously.
Courtney laughed as she took her hand back and rubbed her wrist. “Courtney, please. These are my assistants, Nancy Inglewood and Ashton Sharpe.” Ashton nodded while Nancy shook his hand. “Is Razor here? We’d like to talk to her about something important.”
Jimmy pointed off to the far corner of the warehouse. “Yeah, she’s over yonder in the pitching cage. She should be wrapping up pretty soon, so y’all can go over and wait if you like.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.” Courtney slapped him on the shoulder, then walked in the direction he pointed.
Ashton’s stomach took flight with so many butterflies as they approached the cage. Strange, considering she was seeing someone she’d admired but hadn’t thought about in years.
A quick arm motion caught her eye, and Ashton noticed a young girl about twelve years old, winding up in a traditional pitching motion.
As the ball left the girl’s hand, she followed its trajectory to the figure squatting low behind the plate.
She smiled. Even covered in catcher’s gear, it wasn’t difficult to recognize Razor.
She’d always had a unique stance behind the plate, rising up on her toes, straightening her back, and crossing her free hand behind her.
Over and over, Razor caught the ball, throwing it back with minimal effort and deadly accuracy.
Occasionally, Razor shouted instructions to the girl, commending her when she executed them flawlessly.
When the girl got frustrated, Razor consoled and led with words of encouragement.
Ashton grinned. This was who they came to recruit. This was who they needed on their team.
“This is a good sign,” she whispered to Nancy. “She’s still in playing form, and she gives pitching lessons? This shouldn’t be a hard sell.”
Nancy looked grim. “I agree, but there’s a factor you haven’t taken into account that could have her saying no.”
“What’s that?”
Nancy looked her straight in the eye. “Me.”
Ashton opened her mouth to answer but was cut off when Razor stood and clapped her hand against her glove.
“Good job, Susie,” Razor said as she walked up to the young girl. “You’re still rotating your arm over your head more than I’m comfortable with, but I like how you’re starting to change planes on your rise ball. That’ll go a long way to making you an elite pitcher.”
The timbre of her voice was firm, yet kind. The last time Ashton heard it, it was higher pitched, which wasn’t surprising since the last time they’d spoken, Razor was fresh out of high school. Now her voice was mature and held a sultry tone. Wait. Did she just think that?
“Is there anything we can do to fix my rotation issue?” Susie asked, clearly eager to keep going.
“Just more practice, I’m afraid,” Razor said. “We’ll work on it next time.”
“Why not now?” Susie whined. This girl was very eager.
“Because our hour is up, and I don’t want you overworked and getting injured. Now go pack up your gear. Your dad will be here shortly.”
Susie sulked out of the cage, passing Ashton and the others.
When Ashton turned back, Razor stood before them, her chest guard and helmet gone but her shin guards still in place.
She looked at all three of them, and the only word that came to Ashton’s mind when she looked at that face was happy. Razor looked happy.
“Come here to scout my latest student?” Razor hobbled toward them, the shin guards preventing a steady gait, and Ashton stifled a laugh.
“Doesn’t hurt to start now. I got a roster to fill, remember?” Courtney replied.
“Well, I will give a ringing endorsement for Susie. She’s got talent for miles. But let’s wait until she’s closer to graduating before you start filling her head with fantasies of being the greatest, please.” There was a protective lilt in Razor’s tone that impressed Ashton.
“We’re on the same page, my friend,” Courtney said. “There’s no need to look for players who aren’t even old enough to understand the implications of their decisions yet.”
Razor nodded and embraced Courtney in a tight hug. They laughed, their eyes dancing, and gave each other hearty pats on the back, enjoying each other like old friends should.
“So, what brings y’all out here this time of night?”
Courtney looked at Ashton and Nancy. “I’m here with my coaching staff because we’ve got a problem, and we need your help.”
Razor sighed and unclipped the shin guards. “Courtney, I already told you I can’t be on your staff. My life is pretty full with this place.” She gestured to the warehouse and cages around them.
“We don’t want you on staff. We have a different role for you in mind,” Nancy said. Ashton noticed her eye twitched, and her voice was loud enough to draw some attention.
“Let’s continue this discussion in my office.”
Razor tossed the shin guards into the cage and pointed them in the direction from which they came. As they all walked toward the front counter, Ashton ended up walking next to Razor.
“It’s good to see you again, Ashton.”