Page 155 of Chasing Headlines
“Don't be like that, Livvie. I'm here. What can I do?”
“Never mind. I'll be fine.” My fingers trembled against my forehead. “Bye.”
“Hey, wait.”
“Yeah?” I took in a shaky breath, held it. Breathed out.
“The Exhibition game. How's the uh freshman catcher looking, Jimenez? You know him?”
Is he serious?“I knowallthe players on the entire roster. It's my job, Curt.”
“So? How's he looking?” His voice took on that peppy, eager tone that said he was excited about a prospect.
“As a reporter or a scout?” I took another breath, but it burned all the way down.
“Livvie . . .”
“As areporter, he looks dynamite in baseball pants. He's definitely got a heart throb vibe, but he's only interested in one woman.”
“Oh please don't say?—”
“Not me. His family is baseball through and through. Two brothers in Dominican baseball camp. Dad played a couple of seasons in the majors. Spent several years in the minors.”
“That's not?—”
“Not what you wanted to know?” I was full on seething by now. “He gets along with most of the players, has quite the gregarious attitude and winning smile. He even managed to befriend that-thatmenaceCooper. For what reason, no one knows.”
“Liv.”
I muted my mic. Heat surged inside my abdomen, stirring ash over hot, sparking embers.
“Liv? Come on Livvie?”
I hissed through the phone. “You don't get to have it both ways, Curtis. You can't expect me to give you inside baseball on the team if you're not going to treat me like a scout. Even Schorr treats me better than that.”
A long, loud sigh came through the phone. “I'm sorry. I am. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”
I curled one arm around my stomach, but didn't speak for a moment. Silence stretched through the phone line. I swallowed. “Yeah, ok. Sure.” But it wasn't. This was the problem—with him and my dad. Arguing about it wouldn't solve anything. I just needed to prove I could do the job.
Some muttering I couldn't make out, like he went into a faraway tunnel. Then the line became less garbled. “. . . Coop's still not gotten his act together?” He groaned. “Dammit.”
“What? Who? Coop?”
“You know we wanted him. Everything, every interview, every meeting we had with that kid. He was a solid bet. That last half of the season, he wasn't the same player. Obviously, his mom's illness took its toll. I can't imagine what he went through. It was hard enough keepingmyshit together when our mom left.”
I frowned, but kept silent. I'd never considered what life would have been like for him. He was just . . . there. Like a big brother should be, right?
“Dad pushed hard during the championship run. Said Coop would bounce back, and was practically a poster child for the sport. I think if our dad had been within a city block of that reporter, he would've punched him in the nose for Coop. But there wasn't anything we could do. Too much of a liability.”
“What do you mean, Dad pushed . . . for Coop? To do what?”
“You know he still works with the Sabers. It's unofficial and all, but he built that board. They were his board.”
Oh.
“At this rate, doesn't look like he'll ever make it back. Didn't want to ask Schorr. I know Dad made promises. Like he does.” A heavy breath blew into the phone. “I hope it doesn't bite us.”
“Wait, you mean like Coop wouldn't get to play in the majors? Ever?” I sunk down into one of the iron benches near the front of the building. My heart clenched. Curt's voice faded. Yeah, I was mad at Coop, Breslin, but I still hoped?—