Page 88 of Chasing Headlines
“I don’t know you.”
“It’s really better if you didn’t.”
I glanced at Jimenez. He was sprawled out on the couch like he owned the place.What the fuck?
He shrugged. “She’s just gonna be typing and shit. Probably talking to herself and flirting with the help desk supervisor to get what she needs.”
“Not flirting. It's called social engineering.”
He smirked. “You giggled last time, chica. I heard it.”
I looked from her to Jimenez and back, trying to guess their connection. “You know her?”
“She’s my future wife’s roommate.” He tucked his hands behind his head. “Her and our Reporter Chica. Yeah, we’re tight, eh, Cat?”
“I like you. Liv likes you. The future wife?” She tilted her head. “Eh, you’ve got work to do, ‘mano.”
Jimenez sighed. “She’ll come around one of these days.”
“Speaking of around, that one needs to be not around.” She waved a hand at me like she was shooing me away.
“That’s code for: you should go.” Jimenez tipped his head toward the door.
“Why can you stay and I can't?”
“Because the more I look at your face, the less I want to help.” The red-haired chick called out amidst some rapid-fire typing.
“Wow.” The word escaped my lips.
“Eh, she’s president of the blunt club.” Jimenez shrugged.
“I’m president of the Liv fan club, and he’s an asshole.”
Was she serious? I glanced at her back. She didn't know me. I was the one that was?—
“You’ve got class, right?” Jimenez's voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“She has my machine, possibly my baseball career and my whole life . . .” I searched but couldn't come up with the words I wanted. So I settled for: “Not leaving.”
“First off: she’s got this.” He sat up. “Second, as a friend and a guy who loves baseball like family. It ain’t your life.”
“It ismy life.” I crossed my arms. “Which is why I’ll make it to the majors when the rest of our team won’t.” I wasn't including him in that assessment. That's why I'd asked him. Because he, more than anyone, would understand.
He laughed. A deep, resounding chuckle. “You really think that don’t you? Oh man, your ego is king!” He slapped the sofa cushion. The dip in his brow over that full-mouthed grin . . .looked menacing. The twisted, knotted thing that used to be my stomach flipped over.
“Guess Tanner was right, you do need to be taken down a few hundred pegs. Hey Cat, let this ungrateful motherfucker figure it out himself.”
I stared. “What? But she?—”
“Sorry Antonio. I’m under orders from Liv.”
Every nerve ending sizzled as I looked from one to the other.What the fuck's going on? I didn't do anything wrong.
“That’s right, ‘mano.” He sneered. “Your baseballcareer. Your whole life? It’s out of your control.”
My heart crashed into my ribcage as my stomach finished sinking to the ground. It tried to pull me with it. What could I do? Bring my computer to Coach and plead my case? Hope to God something on the blasted thing pointed a finger somewhere else? I could code, I'd messed around with jailbreaking devices, with mixed results. But everything seemed like a lifetime ago. Here, in this place, my path so far from where I'd hoped and planned to be. I hurtled along some trajectory I didn't know.
“So now what'll you do, eh,Coop?”