Interference by Harlow Cole

Author:Harlow Cole [Cole, Harlow]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-16T04:00:00+00:00

Foul Territory

Sometimes the only thing fair in life,

is a ball hit between first and third.

—Anonymous

23

Toxic Princess

Brayden

“Well, the prodigal son returns to the fold,” Bobby announced, dropping down on the camp chair beside me. His ginger cheeks glowed with the warmth of alcohol. “Have you boys all read Belinski’s latest prospect report?” he asked, looking at the circle of guys chilling out around us.

He garnered a few smirks before he looked back over at me. “How hard did you suck that dude’s cock to get him to write that shit about you? His blog post today reads like you’re the goddamn Second Coming of Christ.”

He flailed his arms up and down in front of himself, sending sarcastic worship in my direction. I snickered but didn’t respond.

“In all seriousness, what the hell did you do at that invitational in Orlando last week? That guy said . . . wait, wait, I’ll pull it up. I have to read it to you.” He dug down into his jeans, trying to squeeze his phone out from the pocket covering his thick thigh.

“Bob, knock it off, man. No one wants to hear that shit,” I said, palming the bill of my cap as I stared around the bonfire to look for her again.

“Brayden Ross has been a standout since the beginning of his high school career, but few other top prospects have shown the explosive growth we’re seeing out of the right-handed ace this summer.”

I held my hand up, but he didn’t give a shit.

Bobby lived for a captive audience.

The guys around me had all stopped talking to listen in.

“For a couple of months now, he’s been working with legendary pitching coach Ed Rossnel, and it shows. He’s bulked up his six-foot-three-inch frame, and on top of a blazing fastball, has added a nasty new knuckle curve to his repertoire. We’ve never seen someone show breaking stuff like this at such a young age. At this point, it’s not a question of if Ross will make it to the big dance; it’s simply a matter of when.”

Bobby pressed his phone against his chest and tipped his head back with his eyes squeezed shut. “Jesus, man. That last sentence.” His head popped back up along with a shit-eating grin. “I’m not gonna lie; I almost came in my pants the first time I read that.”

“I’m glad it was good for you,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Hell, buddy,” Dillan said, kicking the leg of my chair, “that’s gotta make all this shit you’ve been doing worth it, huh?”

I pressed my lips together in a flat smile and held my beer bottle halfway up in acknowledgment.

“You have fun in Florida?” he asked.

“I shared a hotel room with my dad for five days. What do you think?”

I’d spent most of my summer on the road. The invitations to showcases and all-star exhibitions had rolled in.

My father refused to turn down a single one.

Scouts had been coming out of the woodwork. They’d sit in the stands, taunting me with their stupid notebooks and iPads, writing up the words that would decide my fate.

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