Thunder Hawks: A Short Story

I went to the game for Caleb, not for the Thunder Hawks. I never claimed to understand sports, but I understood body language better than most people. When someone 's music is out of sync, I can tell.

I watched Caleb warm-up as the bleachers filled with fans. He lobbed bricks. Wild chaotic pitches that missed the glove half the time.

When game time drew near, a Latino woman in tight jeans, a Thunder Hawks cap, and a CARDOVA jersey passed in front of the bleachers. She kept her eyes on Caleb the whole time as she made her way to fence by the first baseline.

"What... bullshit!" I threw up my hands as I watched her terribly orchestrated community theater.

She leaned across the fence. "Hey, baby!"

Caleb raised his chin and smiled at her. He tucked his glove under his arm and trotted over to the fence. He hugged her with one arm and she hugged with two. A quick peck on the lips. He held her hand for a moment and they chatted until the announcer came over the loudspeaker. "Ladies and gentlemen will you please rise...." Caleb kissed her again. Turned and trotted to his teammates, who were already taking off their hats.

The crowd cheered and she blew him a kiss before she turned and made her exit.

I almost left right then. It had never been more clear to me that Chloe was right. The Major Leagues had their eyes on Caleb, and the people in the big box weren 't about to let me fuck it up. I don 't know how they knew about me—maybe it was a mere suspicion or maybe Caleb let it slip—but I knew full well that the girl in the CARDOVA jersey was damage control. But none of it