Falling for Centerfield

by Sophia Summers

Aiysha clucked. “Not all of it. Have you found the bits about Seneca?”

  “Mmm. Mmm. What’s going on there?” She navigated around.

  “I’ll text you a link.”

  The link led to articles from women. And tweets from their crowd, their Seneca Falls hashtag. #believewomen #Femalestrong. You tell him, Harlow. He’s got nothing on you, girl. We’re with you, Harlow. And a huge article, titled, “She’s no Ember” talked all about her bonfire nickname, the causes she fought for, and gave a great amount of attention to the rally in Seneca Falls. Every article mentioned Cole’s planned attendance. And the retweets just kept coming. Aiysha was still on the phone.

  “Wow, this is incredible. I love the traction we’re getting for Seneca.” She read another tweet. You give strength to women everywhere.

  “People are so nice.”

  “I thought you’d like this side of it. Step away from that crazy hype to the people who are doing the work in this country, moving forward, making change, supporting each other, those people respect you and what you’re trying to accomplish.”

  “Thanks, Aiysha.”

  “But, you doing okay?”

  “I don’t know. I fell, hard. He’s incredible . . . when we’re alone.”

  “Say no more. That’s personal.”

  Haha. “Very funny. You know what I mean. He’s everything you would least expect and hope for.”

  “Well, maybe you should start expecting more. Seeing it. Just maybe, it’s been there the whole time.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Nothing, but I had this thought. What if he really is all that? And he’s trapped in something he doesn’t know how to get out of?”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours. Ignore me if this is the wrong advice. What do I know? Just, the Cole I saw way back at the dodgeball game, he had a thing for you. And that man looked like he’d do anything to win you over.”

  “Well, he hasn’t done much to try, yet.”

  “Hasn’t he?”

  She bit her lip. “Or he does but then he gets distracted? I don’t know. There’s always another woman or whole group of them.” She sighed.

  She had to get to work and didn’t want to talk or think any more about Cole or his innermost thoughts. “I gotta run. I’ll think about it. Thanks for everything. Can’t wait for Seneca.”

  “Me either. I’ll check with everyone on the committee to see if they need anything.”

  “Thank you. Couldn’t have done any of this without you as my co-chair.”

  “Your cause is my cause. I’m just proud of you for having the vision and being brave enough to start.”

  They hung up, and Harlow loved her friend even more. Now, to work with another five articles to write. Surely her boss would want the scoop on his new Belltown favorite and the movie star on his arm.

  As soon as she walked in the door, the senior editor was at her side. “So, did you meet Trista? Potential for an exclusive there, maybe a visit?”

  A churning in her stomach increased. It was going to be a long day. “I don’t know. I’ll send you my notes and the first article in a couple hours.”

  He nodded. “Good work, Harlow.”

  She hurried away, waving politely but looking forward to her cubicle. People knew to leave her alone when the computer was turned on and she was working.

  Two weeks went by without any contact from Harlow. Cole didn’t know he could live that long in such misery. Their publicity had worked, and Mr. Stacy was at last smiling. And then of course the added influx of Trista fans had blown the whole thing up by the thousands. But he was proud of Harlow and her women’s efforts and the added publicity over there as well. The rally was in two days, and Cole had everything planned so that he could go. If he timed it right, he could run out of his last game on Friday night and fly to New York.

  His phone dinged. Trista. She’d reached out a little bit, and they had started texting. It all seemed fun to him, just a little harmless flirting. He hadn’t asked her out, and there had been no suggestion of getting together after the gala. Mostly they shared screen shots of crazy tweets of hilarious fans, or psycho ones also. It had taken his mind off of Harlow and her silence.

  But this text surprised him. Cole. I need a date for the red carpet premiere. You’d look great walking in with me. You free Saturday night?

  Oh, that sounded fun. He’d always wanted to walk in on a red carpet. But there was no way. Seneca Falls was Saturday night. He shook his head. He’d promised Harlow. He grunted. Even though she refused to speak to him, her committee had everything set up and got back with him about it regularly. He began a text to turn Trista down when his phone range. Stacy.

  “Hello.”

  “Cole, I hear you just got an invite to the red carpet premiere.”

  “How would you even know that?”

  “Her agent and I have talked.”

  Cole ground his teeth. “I have the rally in Seneca.”

  “So? That tiny shindig has nothing on this premiere. It’s the most talked-about movie this year. Don’t you ever pay attention?”

  “I don’t watch a lot of movies. But it doesn’t matter. I made a commitment.”

  “Cole. Harlow’s not into you. Obviously. And she’s small town. Grab hold of Trista. If you can nail this, you’ll be in with the big time. It’s working. Did you see our ticket sales for the last couple weeks? The fans buy out centerfield first.” He hummed. “And has your agent mentioned sponsorship money? This is a lucrative move for you too, you know.”

  Cole suspected the increase in fans out behind centerfield was in part with the hope that Harlow the Heckler would show up, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a waste of time to go to her rally. Why was he even going in the first place? Women’s issues were fine, but he had agreed to go for Harlow, and only Harlow. She didn’t care about him. She couldn’t even stay close at the gala, stick by him. She left after a few minutes. The way he saw it, their deal was off. ’Cause she left. As much as he wished she could be the one, if she couldn’t stick by him through things that were out of his control, then she wouldn’t be able to handle all the publicity garbage season after season. If he went to the rally, saw her again, spent time, he’d just feel frustrated all over again, and he had to admit, missing her was a bear. Trista had been a nice distraction from the constant thoughts pulling him in Harlow’s direction. Maybe he wouldn’t go.

  “Cole, you there?”

  “Yes, sorry, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You’ll go to the red carpet.”

  “Stacy, you don’t really own my private life.”

  “I do if you want to play. Do you think any team’s gonna wanna buy you up from the bench?”

  Cole swallowed. Maybe he was right, maybe he was wrong, but he knew it was smart business sense to keep the owner happy. “I understand.”

  He hung up, Stacy no doubt assuming Cole was going with Trista to the red carpet event. And he wanted to go. He texted Trista. I’m in, Sunshine. You’ve got the Big Dawg for the premiere.

  Her heart smiley face response clinched the deal.

  He texted his assistant, telling him to make plans to attend the Seneca Falls rally in his stead. He’d send over a speech to read. And he told himself everything was taken care of.

  Chapter 25

  The day for the rally had finally arrived. Harlow paced the banquet hall in anticipation. They had rented out a wedding facility. It was the only space that could fit the crowds they expected would come. Cole’s publicity had certainly gifted them a place on the map. She wrung her hands and paced off nervous energy. He would arrive in two hours. She didn’t think her heart could handle the wait.

  For two long weeks she’d tried to put him out of her life, tried to push away her feelings of attraction, her interest in him as a person, her admiration for him. And nothing could douse the fire in her heart. Even though she’d tried not to, she had fallen for him, more than for any other guy. His pai
ned expression when he told her he could never offer the boys what they needed. His easygoing fun, his selfless turning of all publicity to benefit another, his care and respect for her. Most of the time. Her thoughts jarred to a halt because the biggest thing that had kept her from calling him all this time was his love of attention from the ladies. He sought it. He reveled in it, and from what she could tell, expected her to just understand.

  Well, no. She did not understand. But even so, she counted down the minutes until he arrived. They’d talked a little bit before, really communicated. Maybe they could work through her concerns. If he was still interested. Her mouth turned down. He and Trista were trending still, two weeks later. To be fair, #harlowtheheckler had a fair amount of retweets as well. She laughed at herself. One of her finer moments.

  All the details were in place, and as minutes and then an hour ticked by, her anticipation rose by degrees. He should be arriving any minute. She freshened up, ran a brush through her hair, and read through her notes for the speech she would give.

  Everyone was in place. Her board sat across the raised platform at the front of the banquet hall. Aiysha kept looking in her direction, and Harlow didn’t know what to tell her. Cole said he would come.

  Then Stefani groaned and held up her phone.

  “What?”

  An unwelcome, familiar figure entered the hall from the back. Cole’s assistant.

  Stefani, holding the phone up in front called out, “He’s just been seen getting into Trista’s limo. There’s a red carpet tonight . . .”

  Aiysha scowled.

  Cole’s assistant, Travis, cleared his throat and came forward. “Mr. Hunter has sent his deepest apologies. And has asked me to come and read his speech in his behalf.” His smile held an apology. “I can’t do his dance, but perhaps if I wore sunglasses . . .” He stopped. It was obvious the group would not be finding humor in Cole’s no-show any time soon.

  “That’s it, then.” Harlow brushed her hands down the front of her skirt as if to brush him from her life and signaled the staff to open up the back doors and let the crowds come in.

  They had an amazing, successful turnout. The house was filled, packed to overflowing, and even when it was obvious to most that Cole wouldn’t be coming, they stuck around. Every speech was well thought out, intelligent; the women in attendance and even some men responded with energy. During the breaks, they approached, animated, with ideas of their own to encourage positive understanding and treatment of women in their own areas.

  Harlow told herself she was pleased, that the event was success. But a part of her felt deflated, and nothing anyone said could lift that sad and sorry rejection. The rally was winding up. Two speeches left. Hers and what would have been Cole’s. They had talked about a fun finale, just some crazy pretend heckling. But she hadn’t the energy to try and do any heckling with his assistant.

  He stood, and most of the women looked on in interest. His speech was remarkable. She could hear Cole’s voice throughout. He gave statistics, shared studies, spoke from his own experience. But the longer Travis spoke Cole’s words, the more dejected Harlow felt. Cole was the real deal. She remembered the article she’d written. “The Truth about Cole Hunter.” It was supposed to come out today, to coincide with this work for the rally. With any luck, it could still be of some benefit to women’s issues and to Cole himself. If they couldn’t be together, she did at least hope for the best for him.

  Cole’s heart pounded and wrenched and twisted the whole ride over to the theater. The streets of Manhattan seemed more crowded than usual.

  “Relax.” Trista’s hand on his arm felt cool, refreshing, soft.

  He turned to her, eyed her full and pouty mouth. “I’m relaxed.”

  But he wasn’t. Guilt for abandoning the rally plagued him, and then all his excuses countered, and then guilt returned. But he plastered on his best smile, kept his sunglasses securely in place, and prepared himself for the show of his life.

  The car pulled right up to the red carpet. Cameras and screaming fans lined each side. “Wow, it really does look just like the movies.”

  Her laugh followed, as if on cue, and he stepped out first, reached a hand backwards. Cameras flashed behind him. For a tiny moment, he imagined Harlow stepped out of the car. And his whole world clicked into place, a great peace filling him. But Trista’s cold fingers rested in his much larger palm instead, and the jar back to reality was almost painful. Harlow. At the rally without him, trying to hold it all together. What was he doing here?

  His phone dinged. His father’s notification.

  While standing at Trista’s side, smiling to one side and then another, he muttered through his smile. “My dad’s trying to reach me.”

  “What? Can’t it wait?”

  “Well, no. He’s not doing well.”

  She huffed with a smile. He had to give it to her, that took talent. “Can you take it with an earbud?”

  He nodded, reached into his pocket and slipped in the wireless buds. Then he said, “Hey, Dad.” While posing and making their way in on the carpet.

  “You have to read the article I sent you.” His dad’s voice sounded strong, firm.

  Relief coursed through him. “I will, Dad. Glad you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine, son, but read it. Now. It’s a game changer.”

  “I’m in the middle of something.”

  “I can see that. You look like a monkey tied to a peddler’s cart in that suit, when you could be with the real deal.”

  “Yes, Dad, okay, I have to go now.” He kept smiling, and then Trista rolled into him so he dipped her low.

  “Thanks, Dad. I’ll read it as soon as we get inside.”

  He hung up and grinned at Trista. “I might need a minute to think through some things.”

  “What!” He’d caught her off guard because for a second, her immediate shock twisted her face into an ugly expression. “You’re going to ditch me?”

  “Hush. People will hear you. Look, no one will know. The big moment is now, right?”

  They waved goodbye to the crowd at the runway and made their way inside. “Can I take you to your seat?”

  “Not yet, first we have cocktails, the VIP reception. All the leads will be there with invited press. Cole, you can’t leave me like this.”

  “What if I found you a date, better looking than me? Ball player?” Ryker was the only Six Pack guy in town, and he would love this. He snorted. The luckiest guy he knew. Who got set up on last-minute dates with stunning movie stars? Just Ryker.

  “Will he come?”

  “Trust me. If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ve got to step inside the bathroom.”

  “Of course. I’ll be down the hall.” She stalked away. Once inside the bathroom, he opened the link to an article from his dad, “The Truth about Cole Hunter.” By Harlow Ember. Oh boy. What was the truth about Cole Hunter? This could go any direction and he almost didn’t want to read Harlow’s opinion on the matter.

  He leaned up against the wall and began to read. And he didn’t stop until the end. She talked about the boys, the center, all the centers; she’d discovered some of his other charities. She talked about his years at Belltown, how he’d helped the younger kids in the town get started with baseball, his private coaching. She talked about his struggles to learn and how hard he’d worked to maintain his passing grades. She even talked about his hours throwing the ball, his practice timing his race to catch the high flies. And then she talked about his father. And he didn’t even want to be mad at her. Everything she said had such a brilliant spin on it. She made him look like—he stopped—she had made him seem like himself.

  And in that moment, he realized the man he could be. He finally saw who Harlow saw in him and knew what she expected. “The Truth about Cole Hunter.” Thinking about that was so freeing all of a sudden, so beautiful. As if awoken from a dream, his eyes traveled over the bathroom. What am I doing here? I, Cole Hunter, do not make commitments and leave people hanging.r />
  He ran out into the hall and almost knocked over Trista.

  “Cole, really. Watch it.” She pulled him into a storage room. Most of the catering equipment lined the walls. “You cannot just ditch me. My agent, your agent, they’re going to be ticked. This was supposed to be good for our careers. If you just walk out, I end up looking like an idiot.” She called someone. “He’s walking.” She spoke into the phone, waited, listening and then handed it to Cole. “This is Stacy.”

  “What the—”

  “Cole, if you step out on her, your career with the Sea Rays is ended. I have no use for a guy who can’t put the team first.”

  “I understand.” He hung up. He knew where he needed to be, Sea Rays or no. He turned to Trista. “Look, sugar bear, we aren’t a thing, but I know a ball player who’s actually your type. He’s the best-looking guy in the Six Pack.” He hoped none of the other guys would ever hear he said such a thing. “He’s got great taste, actually knows designers. Shoes, and things. And he’s way more charming. He’s in town, and he can be here in ten minutes.” He waggled his eyebrows. “What do you think? Two hot baseball players in one night?”

  She pouted, but he saw the gleam in her eyes. She was sold. “Do you have a picture?”

  “I do, sweetness.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through a few of Ryker. “Now, I do have to get going. Will you excuse me?” He air dropped some pictures of Ryker and the Six Pack guys to her phone and made to step away.

  She was distracted and hardly noticed his departure. Then she whirled around. “Okay, Cole, but don’t ever call me again.”

  He nodded. “You got it.”

  Opening up his phone, he was surprised to see his dad’s face. “I’ve already got the jet staffed and the engine running. Your limo’s outside along the east side of the building.”

  “Oh, great!”

  “She’s your sweet spot, Cole. Go get her, and don’t let go.”

  “On it, Dad.” As he ran down the hall, before he hung up, he shouted, “Thanks, Dad.” Then he took off, dodging couples. At the door, he told the guys, “My friend Ryker Stone will be here any minute. He’s Trista’s new date.” He ran out the door before they could answer, clipped sideways to avoid the red carpet, rounded the corner and ducked into his limo.