Billion Dollar Enemy by Olivia Hayle

Author:Olivia Hayle [Hayle, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-04T16:00:00+00:00

Normal game day experiences for me have included waiting in line. Lines to get in, lines for the security check, lines to get a hot dog or a pretzel. Turns out the one percent doesn’t live like that.

With Cole’s VIP tickets—and VIP status—Timmy and I are ushered along through a separate entrance. We ride in an elevator instead of taking the stairs. It’s almost ludicrous, and when Cole sees my expression, he gives me a not-so-subtle elbowing. “I don’t make the rules.”

I elbow him back, his chest a solid brick wall. “Do you have different snacks too?” I ask. “Gold-infused soda? Truffle-flavored popcorn?”

“No. That would be ridiculous.” A pause. “But the caviar-flavored pretzel is to die for.”

I laugh, keeping a hand on Timmy’s shoulder. “Sounds delicious.”

Timmy’s wearing his favorite baseball shirt, complete with the team’s logo and winning colors. I’d pulled out one of my own—about two sizes too big and twenty years too old, one of the few pieces of clothing I have from my dad. I’ve tucked it into a pair of jeans, a baseball cap low on my head.

Cole isn’t in a suit. It was so jarring at first that I had to needle him. “Not used to seeing you without a tie,” I’d said, which was a mistake. In his eyes, the rebuttal was clear as day. You’re used to seeing me without anything at all. Check mate—there was nothing I could say to that in public.

We’re escorted to a terrace-like seat. The pitch unfurls before us, green and endless. Four padded chairs and a table with a monitor embedded, and on it, stats about the players are already circling.

“Wow,” Timmy exclaims, climbing into one of the chairs. “Look!”

Batting practice is done, it seems, and both teams are milling on the pitch, preparing for the national anthem.

Cole hands me a menu with the entire snack selection. “What do you want?”

I scan the lists, a smile on my lips. “No caviar pretzels. Damn.”

“They must be out.”

“Then what will you have?”

He snorts, pulling out one of the chairs for me. “The normal ones are nice, too. A bit of sea salt. Melted butter.”

I pretend to shiver in pleasure. “Perfect. Timmy, do you want a pretzel?”

His eyes are glued to the pitch with an almost feverish intensity. “Yeah,” he says, but in a way that confirms he hasn’t been listening for a second.

I smile at the back of his head, noting the spot where his hair curls. It’s always curled right there, from the time he was a toddler. “Two pretzels, then, one for us each. And some soda?”

Cole uses the screen to order. All around us, people are taking their seats, clad in Seattle green, white and blue. Seated in our own little terrace, we’re attracting a fair amount of curious looks.

“Good thing I remembered to wear glasses and a cap,” I stage-whisper to Cole. He smiles, throwing an arm around the back of my chair.

“Anonymous brunette number one,” he says, letting his fingers trail lightly over my shoulder.

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