A Promise in the Keys (Coconut Key Book 7) by Hope Holloway

Author:Hope Holloway [Holloway, Hope]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-23T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Kenny

If anything could happen, then all Kenny wanted in the next ten minutes was to get Marc a spot on the team. Which looked more and more like it might not happen. But he had to try, and today was the day.

But he wasn’t looking forward to this conversation with the newly promoted coach at all. Gut instinct told him he was going to get rebuffed, but it was important, and he had to try. He had to lay it on the line, as Nick said, although he’d been referring to Heather.

That was a whole different conversation, one he still couldn’t imagine happening. Maybe if he got Marc on the team, he’d start the ball rolling with her. Geez. As if he needed even more incentive to persuade the coach.

As he walked from the parking lot to the field, he eyed the back of the dugout painted with the school logo and the “Coconut Crocs” mascot. He took a deep breath and sent up a “bullet prayer” as Elise used to call them. Simple, fast, and direct.

God, help me get this kid on the team.

Kenny spied Dave Mazzeraldi lining up bats along the third base line as he came around the large block and stucco walls that enclosed the dugout. The kids called him Coach Mazz, and seemed to fear, if not respect, the man. In the few days Kenny had been coming to practice, he’d felt the chill from the other man, enough to deduce that he’d hoped for another parent, a personal friend, to be named assistant coach.

No doubt Mazz was none too happy when the principal told him Kenny Gallagher, who wasn’t any player’s parent, just got dropped on him.

So Kenny had played it low key for the first two practices, taking direction and running drills with the kids. But he wasn’t here because he had a passion for coaching high school ball—although he actually did. He was here to get one lone transfer student to walk on to the JV team as a second-string outfielder. How hard could that be?

He was about to find out.

He’d definitely beat Heather to the ball field, since he didn’t see her SUV anywhere in the adjacent lot. None of the kids were here yet, either, so this was his chance.

“Hey, Coach,” he said. “Give you a hand?”

“Sure.” He gestured toward the lining device on the bench. “You can chalk the base lines and finish these bats. I gotta make a quick call.”

“Will do, but can I talk to you first?”

The other man, maybe forty, kind of reserved and stilted, dropped the last bat and strolled toward the dugout. “Yeah?”

“It’s about a walk-on.”

The only reply was a frown.

“A transfer student I know. Good kid. Great arm. Perfect for the outfield. I was coaching him in the fall and—”

“Where? I thought you never coached before.”

“Not at a school, just privately. It’s a family friend,” he explained. “This kid, Marc Monroe, he’s got a lot of potential for a freshman and made

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