Chapter 26 Fletcher
Fletcher
“Fletcher, Fletcher!”
I search for the sound before spotting an excited kid bouncing my way. He looks to be between seven and eight years old, with a giant mop of shaggy brown hair and the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. To top it off, he’s wearing a small jersey with both my name and number on it.
“Hey bud,” I say, crouching down to his level.
He holds out a baseball. “Can you sign this for me, please?” he asks, his eyes wide with pure adoration.
It’s these kinds of moments I plan to never take for granted.
Little Mason Fletcher would’ve done just about anything to meet his favorite player and get an autograph.
Now, years later, I’m the one doing the signing.
It’s absolutely wild and makes all the early mornings, sore muscles, and late nights completely worth it.
“Of course I will.” I grin and scrawl my name across the fresh white leather, next to a few of my teammates’ signatures.
Tonight’s event might not be mandatory, but every single player from both the Honky Tonks and Rowdy Rattlers showed up, along with our mascots.
Jared Clemmins had grown up with a single mother who made barely enough to cover the groceries, which meant Little League was out of the question.
As much as he wanted to play with his friends, baseball just hadn’t been in the budget until a very kind and supportive neighbor spotted Jared’s talent and offered to cover the fees and the rest was history.
Once he’d made it big, his first order of business was to pay it forward as he started The Open Field Project, which gives underprivileged children the opportunity to play sports without their parents having to worry about how they’ll afford it.
With the formation of Honky Tonk Ball, the dream has grown even bigger. Tonight’s event, in particular, is all about giving back to the families taking part in The Open Field project here in Houston.
The Honky Tonk stadium’s field has been transformed into a full-on carnival.
Game booths, cotton candy, corndogs, and a dunk tank that’s already proven to be a crowd favorite.
These kids are having a blast showing off their throwing skills as they send their favorite players splashing into the water.
Thankfully I’ve managed to avoid that area, at least for now.
“Here you go, little man.” I lob the ball toward him and he catches it in his glove. Kid’s got some good reflexes. Perhaps we have a future Honky Tonk player in our midst. “Have you gotten to meet Honkers yet?”
He shakes his head, clearly starstruck as he looks down at the newly signed ball.
“How about I take you over?” I suggest.
His entire face lights up as he nods eagerly, practically bouncing in place.
To be fair, my intentions are mostly pure. I think every kid here deserves a chance to meet Honkers. It just so happens that Hollis is over there too, filming some behind-the-scenes footage on her phone as our mascot gets mobbed by a large horde of children hyped up on way too much sugar.
“So, what’s your name?” I ask, placing my hand on his shoulder as we walk.
“It’s, uh… it’s um,” he stammers, and I patiently wait. “Garrison.”
“Garrison, huh? That’s a cool name,” I compliment, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “I also have to say, I like your jersey. Looks good on you.”
He glances down, touching the front of the Honky Tonk Jersey with a number eight on it, as if he somehow forgot what he’s wearing.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” he shrugs, his cheeks turning red.
“Now, you can’t go telling everyone this,” I say, lowering my voice. “But I’ve just got to say it. You are easily the best-dressed kid here.”
His smile only grows just as we reach Honkers and his overly enthusiastic fans.
“Honkers, my man,” I call out, loud enough to grab the attention of the mascot and the kids. Every head whips in my direction, and of course I don’t miss the excited ripple of whispers saying my name.
Honkers does his wing-flapping shuffle as he comes toward me, and I meet him halfway before we launch into our usual greeting as we jump and bump chests.
“So,” I say, leading Honkers toward my new little buddy. “I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Garrison.”
Honkers does what he does best and hypes him up, throwing his wings in the air and motions for a high-five. Garrison wastes no time and slams his hand hard into Honker’s wing. Soon, Garrison joins in with the rest of the kids as they dance around with Honkers.
I use this as my opportunity to sneak a glance in Hollis’s direction.
While I expect to see her filming Honkers and the kids, she’s instead staring at me with a strange, and dare I say, soft expression.
If I didn’t know her, I’d possibly mistake her for a fan, because, despite the intimate moments we’ve shared, she’s never quite looked at me like that until now.
It’s a look of pure adoration, and even if I don’t always feel worthy of it, it makes me want to try, if only for her.
“How’s it going? You getting some good footage?” I ask, breaking through whatever trance she’s gotten herself stuck in.
“I am. This is going to be perfect for the fundraiser gala this weekend. There’s no way the donors won’t fall in love with these kids after seeing how much joy my dad’s charity brings them.” She beams as she glances out at all the children and families letting loose and having fun.
“Your dad is pretty amazing for putting this all together,” I muse, also taking it all in.
I’ve not only seen the happiness on the children’s faces tonight, but I’ve received so much praise and gratitude from their parents as well.
“Yeah, he’s a pretty amazing guy,” she nods as the smile on her face strangely begins to falter.
“You okay?” I ask, folding my arms as I nudge my elbow into her shoulder. “It’s not because of us, or because I came over here, right?”
“No.” She lets out a loud sigh. “It’s nothing like that.
I just… I know he loves baseball and the whole Honky Tonk organization in general, and while I get why he wants me to stay and be a part of all of this,” she waves her arm across the field, “I haven't changed my mind. As soon as the season ends I’m out of here.”
As glad as I am to know I’m not the reason for her weird mood change , I'm not so sure I like that answer any better. Not only has she done an amazing job with all the various social media channels, everyone in the organization has fallen in love with her. She’s become an integral part of the Honky Tonk family, and I’m not sure what we’ll do without her.
Hell, I’m not sure what I’ll do without her.
“I still don’t get it. You obviously like being here.”
She shakes her head. “Of course I do. I love it here, and it’s truly been one of the best jobs I’ve ever had.
But growing up, I’ve only ever been known as Jared Clemmin’s daughter.
I told myself that someday I’d make my own name and build something that was all mine, and I can’t exactly do that when he’s the one who gave me this job and the one signing my paychecks. ”
“Your dad didn’t hire you because you're his daughter. He hired you because you were the best person for the job,” I remind her. “Our social media has grown by over two hundred percent since you’ve taken over the accounts, and that has nothing to do with who your dad is. That was all you, Holls.”
“Maybe,” she shrugs before slowly walking backward, still facing me. “But what I’m actually worried about right now is whether you and I are going to have some fun tonight.”
She’s obviously trying to change the subject and with my constant desperation for her approval, I decide to drop it and play along, at least for now.
“That depends,” I say, following after her. “What kind of fun are we talking about here?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” she sing-songs, adding a little skip to her stop as she turns around and leads me toward the booths.
I should be worried. Whenever she gets that tone, I usually end up embarrassing myself, but I’m no idiot. If she’s offering me quality time, I’ll take it—no questions asked. I’ll follow that woman anywhere, even if it’s right off a cliff. Hell, I’d probably thank her the entire way down.
Like usual, that beautiful, yet devilish woman has played me yet again. With all the people who’ve walked by as my face gets painted as they point their fingers and laugh, it’s clear Hollis chose wisely.
“Shhh,” she shushes a few laughing onlookers who’ve stopped to gawk. “It’s a surprise. He doesn’t know what it is,” she explains to the small group of boys and girls who’ve gathered in close.“What do you all think? Is he going to like it?”
They all answer at the same time, but the resounding answer seems to be no.
Perfect.
“Oh come on,” I play along. “It can’t be that bad…right?”
The kids exchange glances before bursting into another fit of giggles.
“Oh, it’s bad,” one of the older boys assures me.
I glance at Hollis, who casually shrugs in response.
It’d been her idea for each of us to pick the face paint for the other, and given the looks I’m getting, she’s clearly playing to win.
I’m not overly concerned, though. After everything I've done during my Honky Tonk career there isn’t much left that will actually embarrass me.
Pretty sure I’m immune at this point. Plus, if all it takes is doing something idiotic to bring back the smile she’s currently wearing, then sign me up. Dignity is overrated anyway.
My only regret is I probably went a bit too easy on her. Then again, I like what I chose, and I’m definitely ready to see her reaction, because she's without a doubt going to have a good one.
“Alright. You’re all done,” the face painter says as she sets down her sponges and paint.
“Wonderful” I say, a sarcastic edge to my voice as I play it up for the small crowd watching. “I’m dying to see just how good I look.”
The truth is, I am curious, especially since this side of her is one of my favorites. I love seeing her relax as she jokes around with me, seeming to forget, at least for a while, that she’s supposed to have her walls up.
“How do we want to do this?” she asks. “Should we both hold up a mirror and look at the same time?”
I mull it over before I’m hit with a genius idea.
“Let’s do a video where we look at the camera at the same time. If anything, you can turn this into a whole bit where players and staff choose face paint for each other.”
“You know how much I hate being in front of the camera,” she hesitates as she bites the corner of her bottom lip. “But, it would be sort of perfect,” she admits before letting out a loud, dramatic pout.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. Everyone is already loving it,” I say, nodding toward the eager faces waiting for our big reveal. “Plus, it’s obvious I’m the one who’s going to look like a fool, here. You look great. Truly.” I reach for her hand and give it an encouraging squeeze.
“Do it,” one kid starts chanting before the rest join in. “Do it! Do it! Do it!”
She covers her face with her hands, holding them out just enough not to mess with the paint on her cheeks.
“Fine. Video it is,” she gives in as our small group of onlookers cheer.
“Alright, let’s do this.” I rub my hands together and I move to stand next to her. “I need to see what everyone is laughing about.”
I move my cheek next to hers, and she lifts the phone as the crowd around us continues to grow in size and excitement.
“Alright, close your eyes, and on the count of three we open them at the same time,” she directs.
I nod and follow her instructions.
“One…Two…” she counts as the group joins in on the countdown. “Three!”
I open my eyes and instantly burst out laughing.
There is a lot going on as the colors of green, purple, and pink explode across my face.
It takes a moment to fully comprehend what I’m seeing, but my face has ultimately been made to mimic that of Razzle the snake, the Rattlers’ mascot.
Then to finish it off, a crown is painted across my forehead.
Honestly, I’m kind of impressed, not just by the artistry, but for the thought Hollis put into this. If any of my teammates had been tasked with choosing something to embarrass me they’d probably just turn me into Shrek or something lame, but nope. She fucking went for it.
“Are you kidding me, Fletch?” Hollis laughs, though the sound holds more murderous disbelief than actual amusement.
She tilts her head side to side, doing her best to take it all in. On one cheek, she has Honker’s signature cartoon face staring back at her. On the other is my jersey number. Big, bold, and sparkling with the words ‘Fletcher’s #1 Fan’ written underneath.
“What? You look great in my number.” I proudly beam, though, it's the understatement of a century. Pretty sure the number eight has never looked as good as it does scrawled across her cheek.
“Well you better enjoy it. This will be the only time you ever see me wearing it,” she huffs, despite the amused grin on her face.
She hits the red button and the phone stops recording.
“Oh, I’m definitely enjoying it.” I turn to face her and lower my voice. “Plus, I’ve gotten you to do plenty of things you swore you’d never do, so I’m not too worried about it.”
Her eyes go wide. “Mason Fletcher!” she hisses, glancing around as though I’d somehow just confessed to a crime.
“What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me! What if someone overhears you?”
“Now you’re worried about someone overhearing us? You didn’t seem so concerned about that the other day when…”
She covers my mouth with her hand, stopping me from saying more.
“Oh my God! Stop!” she shrieks, her voice caught between amusement and panic.
I place my hand over hers and pull it down. “Or what? You gonna punish me, Holls? Because I don’t think I’d be opposed to that. I mean, I have been a pretty bad boy.”
She fights back a smile. “Ugh, I’m done with you.”
She turns on her heel and walks away, my eyes falling to her swaying hips and perfectly round ass.
“You know I don’t believe you, right?” I holler after her.
She glances back over her shoulder.
“That’s fine. Denial looks good on you anyway,” she shrugs before walking away for good.
My instinct is to follow after her and spend the entire evening glued to her side. Unfortunately, I agreed to keep things under wraps, and besides, tonight isn’t about me or her.
Tonight is about these kids.
Plus, we have The Open Fields fundraiser gala coming up in a few days, and that’s when I can really make my move.