Page 8 of Last Night Was Fun

Luckily, a senior analyst position had opened up down the hall—literally. The office was down the hall and had an internal-facing window. And if Emmy won the job, she’d at least have the peace and quiet of her own four walls at the stadium.

As it stood, their team worked a nine-to-five routine. They did the grunt work of cleaning and analyzing all the data into a digestible format for the higher-ups. The promotion to senior analyst would mean working during games, traveling with the team. It would be a major change, but it was a change Emmy craved like the first bite of a ballpark hot dog. Earning that position would put her one rung higher on the corporate baseball ladder, in a place where even fewer women had ever set foot. After a round of interviews and presentations, their boss Alice, the assistant director of research and analytics, was going to submit two candidates to the department director to make a decision.

Emmy knew Alice was on her side. She’d pulled her under her wing the day she stepped in the door. Emmy was almost certain she’d make it to the final round—they were due to find out in mere minutes—but after that, she couldn’t say what might happen.

She guzzled a long sip of her coffee as the sound of clicking heels approached from down the hall. Alice’s calling card. Emmy never wore heels to work. She didn’t like them to begin with, and one more thing to remind everyone she was an imposter in Boys Town would not work in her favor.

Alice always wore heels, and Emmy had to assume it was because she didn’t care what anyone thought.

“Oh good, gang’s all here,” Alice said from the doorway. She and the director only occasionally traveled with the team. They spent most of their days deep in the bowels of the stadium entrenched in strategy sessions. Today, Alice wore a smart navy skirt suit and patent slingbacks. Baseball ran in her blood the same way it did in Emmy’s. Her great-uncle was among the first Black players to join the major leagues.

Most people in the organization had some tether to the sport.Gabe was an all-star pitcher in college; Silas’s cousins played professionally in Japan; Pedro had been obsessed with the sport since childhood; and Emmy... well, Emmy’s connection to the sport was one of the personal things she didn’t discuss at work. Among her colleagues, only Alice knew because Emmy had gotten weepy after one too many happy hour beers on an important anniversary, and she was the only one not afraid to ask the Only Girl why she was crying into her Blue Moon.

Emmy could tell by the look on Alice’s face now she was about to deliver the news they were all waiting for right then and there. No need for a special meeting or even to close the door.

People tended to get to the point in their industry. Conversations that uprooted lives in a snap happened on the regular. (Sorry, kid. We’re sending you back down.Or,You’re being traded to the Cardinals. Hope you enjoy St.Louis.)Emmy sometimes felt bad the numbers she produced were the driving force behind these decisions and often had to distance herself from thinking too hard about what they meant. But still, there was no real sense in beating around the bush.

“After careful consideration, I’ve made my decision as to who’s moving on to the next round for the senior analyst position,” Alice said.

The four of them stared at her in anticipation. Emmy’s heart beat double time.

Alice pointed at her and Gabe like she was calling them out of the dugout. “Jameson, Olson, you’re moving on. Torres, Ishida, keep up the good work. Final decision will be made at the end of the month.”

The air in the room hung tense for several seconds. Emmy vibrated with simultaneous joy and frustration. She couldn’t say she was surprised it was she and Gabe, but she’dhopedit would be anyone other than him. The battle was already lost, and the idea of losing to Gabe Olson—again—made her want to scream.

Pedro eventually broke the silence with a loud exhale. “Well, glad that’s over, huh? Congrats.” He gave Gabe one of those dude-brohalf-hug backslap things as if he’d already won and as if Emmy wasn’t standing right there too.

“Thanks,” Gabe said.

“For sure. And I guess fair warning to watch out, Jameson. Now that you’ve got Gabe Ruthless on your tail here,” Pedro said, and nodded at Emmy. “You’ve heard the rumors,” he stage-whispered like they were in a horror film.

Emmy frowned, and Gabe scoffed.

“Rumors, Torres,” Gabe said, and slapped him on the back.

“Sure. Tell that to poor Mikey Walker,” Silas chimed in with a sly grin. “Last I heard, he’s selling solar panels after you got him fired.”

Gabe shook his head with a half smile but made no further comment.

“We should go out this weekend to celebrate,” Pedro said. He directed the statement at Gabe and Silas, in indication the invitation extended to Silas too.

“That’s a great idea!” Alice chimed in from the doorway where she still lingered. “I’ll buy you all a round of drinks for the work you’ve put in so far.”

They all turned to her. Despite Alice’s smile, Emmy felt like she was crashing a party that hadn’t even happened yet. The three men awkwardly shifted their weight while Emmy stared at her feet. To her surprise, it was Gabe who broke the silence.

“That would be great. Thanks, Alice.”

“You bet. Friday night. I’ll be in touch.” She swept out the door with an efficient nod.

Emmy could feel them looking at her, and before the awkward tension made her say something that would make it even more awkward, she followed Alice into the hall.

“Alice!” she whispered as she hurried to catch up to her. She was already halfway back to her office, her clicking heels snapping off the floor.

“What’s up?” she said when Emmy caught up. “Congrats, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Emmy said, still flustered. “Why did you do that?”

Alice’s face flattened into a frown. “Move you to the next round for the promotion? Because you deserve it.”