Page 59 of Leave It On The Field (Grand Slam 3)
“I warned you, Seb,” he says. “We can’t have this kind of press during the series. If you can’t control yourself, then you force me to control you.”
I collapse into my chair. “Are you the one tweeting this bullshit out?”
“What? Come on, Seb,” he says, a deep crease covering his forehead. “I don’t even have a Twitter account.”
“Maybe not a public one.” I nod as I rub the scruff on my chin. “Don’t I remember that you started working in baseball after leaving a job in the tech field?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” He looks around the room. “Any idiot can post to social media.”
“Yep. They definitely can,” I say as my brain tries to process the new information. “Hey, do you still have my friend Ricky’s phone number? Remember when you called him while you were trying to get me to sign my five-year deal? Do you two still talk?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, spinning around and walking away from me. “Get in the shower. We’re wheels up in an hour.”
