The Secret Hook-Up

The dress might’ve been a mistake.

By the time I reach the top floor of the Fireballs’ headquarters across the street from Duggan Field, no fewer than a dozen people have either asked me what’s wrong or did a double take before realizing it was me.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

When I step into the lobby on the C-suite level, Denise spots me and gasps. “Oh, no. No, ma’am. You are not quitting today.”

“I’m not quitting,” I tell her.

She looks down at my dress. “Are you asking for a raise?”

“I have a ten o’clock with Lila and Tripp.”

There’s another look up and down my outfit. “Do you need backup?”

“Are they ready for me?”

“Knock first. They’re in Lila’s office. And if you need backup, the code word is Ash is eating the flowers again.”

I head down the hallway, knock, and wait for the “Come in” that follows after several long moments.

I give it one more deep breath before I let myself into the corner office where there’s still a godawful orange couch against one wall, the lone remnant in the entire building from the time when Lila’s uncle owned the team before we all got here. Otherwise, there are photos of the team celebrating various wins all over the walls. An obligatory plant in one corner. And a massive rug with the Fireballs logo on the floor.

Lila’s behind her desk.

Tripp’s sitting in a chair with his back to the wall of windows.

They both initially look at me like they’re prepared to claim they weren’t getting handsy with the door closed, but as one, their jaws drop.

“How much time do you need?” Lila asks while Tripp says, “Whatever it is, we’ve got your back.”

In my head, I throw my hands in the air, march back to my apartment, and change into slacks and a polo.

But my imagination doesn’t immediately solve the fact that both of my bosses also assume there’s something wrong because of my clothing.

There is, but it’s not wrong-wrong. It’s more not the right time wrong.

“I wear dresses sometimes,” I say dryly. “Everything’s fine.”

Lila straightens and folds her hands on her desk. “Of course.”

Tripp clears his throat and nods.

I stride the rest of the way into the office, letting the door shut behind me, and take the seat opposite Lila.

“What’s on your mind?” she asks.

Time to do this. “I’d like to withdraw my name from consideration for Santiago’s position.”

Lila stifles another noise.

Tripp drops the leg he’s just hooked over one knee, and his foot hits the floor with a thump. “Come again?” he says.

“I would love to be a baseball manager one day, but this isn’t my time.” I nod to Tripp. “You were right. I’ve been…harder this year. I’m not in the right headspace to take over as the head coach for the entire team. I need to do some work on me first so that I’m everything I need to be when it’s my time to lead.”

I’ve startled them.

I get it.

I’ve startled myself, to a degree.

But since my conversation with Tripp the day after the auction, since Duncan came back into my life, since I’ve started letting people in more, I’ve realized I can’t be effective as a head coach until I sort out everything that’s holding me back.

Which means I have to not be afraid of other people stepping on me. Of being all of me.

Even if it costs me another opportunity one day.

Letting myself have fun with my players yesterday was good.

But it’s not enough.

I need to practice letting the real me, all of me, shine through every day before I’m ready to be the leader the team needs.

“Addie, we don’t need interviews to tell you that you’re one of our top two candidates,” Lila says. “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want to do?”

I order my ego to sit down and take a seat while I nod to my boss. “If I’m one of your top two now, wait until you see how good I am the next time the job opens up.”

Missed the mark on stifling my ego on that one.

Lila smiles though. Some amused, some not. “It could be years.”

This isn’t a surprise.

I’m in my sixth season. So are Lila and Tripp. So is most of the coaching staff. We’ve had very little turnover, most of it happening in the first two years that they were in charge as they put together their dream team.

Loyalty runs deep in this organization they’ve built.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell Lila and Tripp. “You’ve made this feel like home. So I’m going to treat it like home, and I’ll be here when the next opportunity opens up.”

“Will you be ready then?” Lila asks me.

“If I’m not, then I never will be.”

“Anything we can do to help?”

“Not right now. But if there is, I’ll let you know.” I’m reaching out to a therapist who’s worked with a few of our players as soon as I’m out of this meeting. A life coach too.

Fear is weighing me down.

In all parts of my life.

It’s time to let it go.

I chat with my bosses for a few more minutes about how our batting lineup is doing and what we have to do to make the playoffs this year. We’re currently just outside of where we need to be for even the wild card race. Some injuries and missing Cooper are taking their toll.

And that’s okay.

We’re not last.

We’re not anywhere near last.

Our fans are still with us. Even when we lose, we fight hard all the way to the end.

Some seasons are tough.

After our catch-up, I head across the street to the ballpark to get ready for game day.

“Morning, Coach Addie,” Diego calls to me from the tunnel beneath the stadium.

He doesn’t blink at my dress.

Neither do the half dozen other players I pass on my way to my office.

They don’t say a thing about my date yesterday either. Or about interrupting it. Or make threats against Duncan or imply that I look like I have been thoroughly and completely railed in bed.

They’re just normal.

Santiago’s head snaps my way when I pass his office.

“Morning, Skipper,” I say.

He clicks his jaw shut, lifts his gaze from my dress, and blurts, “Are you quitting?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? You’ve seen me in dresses before.”

“At special events.”

“Maybe today felt special just for being today.”

“If we lose, you’re not wearing that again.”

I’m laughing as I head down the hallway to my own small office.

Once I’m inside, I text Duncan.

I told my bosses.

He responds with a GIF of Zeus Berger dancing with the words I’m proud of you flashing over the top.

Also, everyone’s freaking out about me wearing a dress, I text.

They probably think it’ll be bad luck, is his instant response.

I bark out another laugh, and as I do, I realize I feel about a million pounds lighter.

Waiting for the next opportunity to interview for the manager position is the right call. Being me here is the right call. As is setting up an appointment with that therapist.

My life is already pretty good.

But I’ll make it even better.