Chapter 26
Kenzie
“What do you mean she can’t enter the ballpark?” Mallory all but screeches when we’re stopped by security as she tries to use one of her family tickets for me.
My glittery, homemade Chapman is The Man sign drops to the edge of my Waves jersey with Trevor’s last name and number on the back.
Mallory spent the last hour getting me “camera ready,” insisting she come over to get me gussied up before driving us here.
The jersey is styled open over a tank and my cutoff shorts.
She’s also done my makeup with an expert hand and wrangled my rebellious waves into an effortless style befitting a baseball game.
I feel ready for media speculation while still being true to myself.
“My apologies, Mrs. Sato, but she’s on the banned list.”
My friend sets her hands on her hips. “How is that even possible?”
“She jumped onto the dugout, violating the Fan Code of Conduct,” the man says, his tone flat.
I nearly slap my forehead. Of course Waves security wouldn’t want me back in the stadium after that stunt. They probably see me as a danger to their players, as laughable as that truly is.
“Also, Aaron Lawson personally asked that she be put on the list.”
“What?” The word punches out of me.
Not being allowed admission because I blatantly broke the rules is something I can understand, but Aaron banning me because…because why? Because I hurt his ego by not doing exactly what he wanted? What a self-involved, weasley, no good—
“Let me talk to Trevor Chapman.”
The man shakes his head. “Only the coaching staff can speak to the players until after the game. I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ll have to leave.”
I stare at his outstretched hand, directing us back the way we came.
“But—”
It was my turn to show up for Trevor, to let him know that I’ll always be rooting for him.
Earlier, when he’d been distracted by Jet’s antics, I’d snagged his unlocked phone and stole away to my room.
A slightly off-key version of the Mission Impossible theme song left my humming lips as I quickly jotted down the information for his friend, Jacob.
It might be a long shot, but I’m guessing if I offer Jacob and his mother, Trish, free use of the guest rooms in Trevor’s house, they’d be more than happy to visit and attend a few Waves games.
“This is unacceptable.” Mallory’s steely voice brings me back to our current situation.
The man simply shrugs like it’s out of his hands.
Mallory’s fingernails practically dig into my skin as she grabs my wrist and stomps toward the car.
When we step onto the asphalt of the parking lot, the reality of the situation hits me like a cinderblock thrown from a balcony.
I’m not going to be able to see Trevor tonight.
Not until he walks into the house—much, much later.
My friend mutters, her vise grip unrelenting as her long legs drag me toward her sports car.
“Mallory, wait.” I pull out my phone with a steady hand, even though it feels like I’m freefalling three stories. “I’ll get an Uber home. If you take me back, you’ll miss watching Kai.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” She snatches my phone, gripping it as tightly as my wrist. At this point, I’m likely to have bruise marks.
“You don’t have to take me home,” I try again, frustration about the situation flushing my cheeks. “Let me take an Uber and—”
She stops us so suddenly that I stumble.
“I’m not taking you home. I’m taking you to my house.” When my mouth pops open, she holds up a polished finger. “Just trust me.”
Thirty minutes later, Mallory is tying the long gray-haired wig I’m wearing into a ponytail with several elastics.
With the long gray beard, I’d almost resemble an aging biker, except for the fact that my face is undoubtedly youthful.
The wig and beard top off the throw pillow Mallory duct-taped over my tank to give me a beer belly before forcing me into one of Kai’s flannel shirts.
Mallory’s sweatpants, rolled up because I’m considerably shorter than her, and a pair of her black boots round out the ensemble.
“Good thing I went as Gandalf the Grey last Halloween,” she muses, tucking a Waves ballcap over the itchy wig with a chuckle. “Kai was Frodo. I should show you the pictures. We were adorable. Won the couples contest and everything.”
I hum, noncommittally, before stopping her hands with mine. A bubble of anxiety sours my throat. I want to be able to appeal being restricted from the stadium. I don’t want to be banned for life. That would go against my newfound plans to be in Trevor’s future for as long as possible.
“Won’t it make things worse if I’m caught sneaking into the stadium? I appreciate all your efforts, I really do, but I still look like a woman in a costume. How am I supposed to pass as an old man?”
Mallory tuts at me. “You, my friend, obviously aren’t familiar with the power of stage makeup.”
When we pull back into the reserved lot beside the ballpark, my reflection is borderline terrifying.
The makeup on my cheeks and forehead creates hollows and wrinkles that are so realistic I feel tired just looking at them.
What started as nerves now feels like giddy anticipation because halfway through this reverse makeover process, I realized two things.
One: I’m incredibly lucky that Mallory would go through all this trouble for me. Is this getup ridiculous? Yes, but if it gets me into the game and cheering for Trevor, so be it.
And two: Trevor is absolutely, without a doubt, worth all of this and more.
“I just texted Amaya that we’re here. I’ll head in while you walk to the south entrance to meet her.” Mallory’s smile is megawatt as she hands me a pair of dark sunglasses. “See you inside, Gramps.”
There aren’t as many people outside the stadium now that the game is well underway, so I keep my head down, walking with a slight limp. Who’s to say I don’t have a bad hip? The ballpark explodes in cheers, making a smile curve my lips. I hope the Waves are absolutely annihilating the Sluggers.
“Granddad, over here. I’ve got your ticket.”
At Amaya’s voice, I look over the top of my sunglasses. Her lips quiver like she wants to bark out a laugh, but she quickly composes herself. We sail through the exterior gate, and I’m cheering internally until we’re stopped by another security officer just outside the players’ family area.
“Who’s this?”
My heart sinks. With the opposing team on the field and Trevor still in the dugout, I’m going to get kicked out before I even see him. I keep my gaze down as Amaya answers.
“My granddad.”
In the silence that follows, I make a mistake.
I glance up. The security guard’s eyes look like they’re lasering through all my protective layers.
I’m probably as convincing as two kids in a trench coat to someone who does security for a living.
Sweat drips down my temples, threatening to mess up my fake wrinkles.
“Shouldn’t your grandad be…”
His sentence trails off, looking from her gorgeous brown skin to my pale hand balled in front of my mustache as I fake what I hope is a masculine cough.
Amaya’s eyebrows lift, silently daring the guard to finish his statement.
“I mean—” He gives his head a shake. “Enjoy the game, sir.”
“Thanks, son,” I croak and proceed to limp-walk to my seat.
Amaya makes a big show of introducing her granddad to the rest of the wives and girlfriends.
By the overzealous way they greet me, it’s obvious Mallory gave everyone a heads up.
They tuck me right in the middle, away from the appraising eyes of the security.
Mallory positions herself nearest the guard in case she needs to ‘come up with a diversion’—whatever that means.
By the time Trevor is up to bat, my blood pressure has leveled out, and I’m making comfortable, albeit low-toned, small chat with Amaya.
My words cut off mid-sentence at the sound of his walk-up song.
Surging forward, my eager fingers tap on my knees.
I’m sweltering in my disguise, my ‘belly’ makes an awkward sound whenever I shift in my seat, and my entire head is itchy, but watching Trevor smile and offer a cordial wave to the cheering crowd makes my heart sing.
I almost forget to throw my voice as I cheer for him. Amaya pats my back as my Wooo turns into an almost painful grunt.
“Go get ‘em, young man,” I say, covering.
He fouls off two balls before a solid base hit. When Trevor pulls off his elbow and shin guards, joking with the first base coach, a wistful sigh slips from my lips. How did it take me over a year to notice how magnetic he is? Surely, I must have had some sort of undiagnosed brain disorder.
“Having fun?” Mallory’s voice comes from right behind me. “Don’t look back,” she adds quickly. “I just wanted to check in. You’re not answering your texts.”
Slipping my phone out of the plush pocket of my sweats, I see that I’ve missed five messages.
“Granddad is having a grand ol’ time,” Amaya says, barely restraining a laugh.
“This worked perfectly.” I can hear Mallory’s smile in her words. “No one will ever know you’re here.”
It’s then that it hits me.
Trevor doesn’t know I’m here.
What I wanted more than anything by coming to this game was for Trevor to know that he’s got someone in the stands, cheering him on.
He should know that someone who cares about him has finally shown up.
As the game ticks on, my mind whirs. I wonder how upset my newfound friend will be if I intentionally ruin all of her hard work.