Page 74 of The Path to Loving Him
“And within those two titles,” she continues, “Orson averaged a .356 batting average, allowed only two stolen bases, and had a pop time of under two seconds, under pressure. Outside of the postseason, he’s maintained a slugging percentage of just over four hundred and has easily one of the quickest, most accurate arms in the league.”
I shake my head. “Orson used to be the best. Your question is who is the best now? And I would have said Orson maybe last season, but this season, it’s all about Peppers. His pop time is a solid 1.5 seconds. He’s had over three hundred and fifty putouts so far this season, his fielding percentage is just over nine hundred, and he’s allowed three passed balls all season, as opposed to Jason’s five.”
“The Bombers pitching staff has more accuracy this year, making it easier on Peppers,” she counters. “Not to mention, the Rebels have a tougher schedule than the Bombers.”
“The schedule is not that different,” I say.
“If you seriously believe that, then you’re the delusional one.” She folds her arms. “Bennett and I have been over this, how the Bombers skate by every year with an easy schedule.”
“If it was so easy, then why aren’t they winning?” I ask.
“Great question. Maybe because the team isn’t that great.”
“Which in return would make Peppers’s job harder.”
“Or,” she counters, “it would make him more shiny to people like you since he’s mixed into a talent pool of crap.”
“Wow.” I laugh sardonically. “You seriously have no leg to stand on. Just admit it, you like Jason Orson because he claims he has the best butt in baseball and is now selling potato salad to the masses.”
“I couldn’t care less about his potato salad.”
“Did you hear that?” I say, holding a hand up to my ear. “That was Orson just squealing from the insult.”
“I hope he did squeal.” She sets her cardboard down and continues, “Well, this was helpful. Because after this conversation, I have a very small opinion of you.”
“Says the person who’ll be working for me.”
“Oh, good luck firing me.” She crosses her fingers and holds them out to me. “Me and David are like this.”
That causes my eyes to narrow. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that he likes me, he’s on my side, and you would be hard-pressed to figure out a way to get rid of me. So . . . good luck.”
I give her a quick once-over. “You know what? You’re right, this was a good conversation because now I know exactly what I’m going to do with you.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say like a child.
“What are you going to do? Try to make my life hell?”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” I say.
“Well, good luck to you because I had to army crawl, walk, skip, and jog through the depths of Satan’s asshole to get to where I am right now. Nothing you throw my way will scare me.”
“We’ll see about that,” I say, then gesture to the door. “Thanks for the quick fuck, but I’m done with you.”
“Thanks for your sticky cum on my chest . . . I’m surprised it wasn’t more.”
I don’t know why that grates on my nerves, but it does. “I fucking unloaded on you.”
“I’ve seen more,” she says with a shrug as she moves toward the door.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to lie.”
She looks over her shoulder and says, “I wasn’t lying.”
With that, she exits the house and shuts the door behind her.
