Page 5 of The Scout

Leo had been my assistant since I got drafted. My agent, Thomas, had set me up with him, and even though I no longer played, I still needed someone to organize my schedule. There would be times when coaches would contact me directly, hoping I’d check out a player. Leo would sift through the bullshit.

I hopped in the car and placed the call. Naturally, Leo answered on the first ring.

“Hey, boss.”

“Hi, what’s up?”

“A couple of things. First, the pitcher you were going to scout in Virginia pulled a groin muscle, so no need to do that while you’re there.”

“That sucks.” It did. I felt for the kid. Especially since he was in his third year at college and it was nearing the end of the season. “Okay, what else?”

“The school administrator in Blossom Berry Falls called. They’re going to be renaming the high school stadium.” When I remained silent, he added, “Cash Jameson Field.”

Shocked, I couldn’t help but ask, “What did you just say?”

“Cash Jameson Field. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” I didn’t say anything, so he continued, “The ribbon-cutting ceremony will be right before the alumni game.”

“Why are they doing that?” I voiced out loud rather than to myself, as I’d intended.

“Because you’re Cash Jameson. I’m guessing not many pro players come from that small town. It’s already a done deal. There will be a media presence after the game. Give nice short-and-sweet answers.”

“Fine. What else?”

“The inn that you wanted me to book doesn’t have a vacancy.”Of course it doesn’t.“I rented you a house.”

“I don’t need a house.”

“Well, unless you have a friend you can stay with, that is your only option. I suppose they’d let you sleep on a bench in the bleachers—”

“Fine. A house it is.”

He chuckled. “Thought so. You’ll have it for three months, starting tomorrow. And before you bark at me, that was the shortest I could get it for. It was originally six. Apparently they’re having a hard time selling and won’t do daily rentals. Obviously you don’t need to stay there that long. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t. Key will be under the petunia pot on the front porch.”

The season was in full swing, and thanks to my shoulder, my goddamn schedule was clear. “Petunia pot?”

“Don’t ask me. I grew up in Seattle.”

“Fine. Is there anything else?”

“Nope. I’ll send you the address.”

“Thanks, Leo. You know where to find me.”

“Always have.”

“Bye.” I disconnected the call, and my phone immediately chimed with a text message from Leo.

Leo:425 Maplewood Lane. I’m forwarding you the itinerary for when you’re there. Remember, I’m taking the family out of town for a bit. Try to relax.

Relax. Sure.Enjoy your vacation.

Leo:You too.

Europe or a tropical island would be a vacation. Blossom Berry Falls had a population of nine hundred. When I left, it was just over a thousand. It was a cute town but a bit too small for me. When my family moved there at the start of my sophomore year of high school, I begged my parents to let me stay with my aunt in California, where I was born. Of course, they said no. But then I met Hannah Hall, and suddenly the small town was the best place on earth.

My parents had moved back to the West Coast thanks to my dad’s job transferring him again. Once the manufacturing factory in Blossom Berry Falls was up and running, there had been no need for them to stay, nor had they been back.

Then again, neither had I.