Page 57 of Leave It On The Field (Grand Slam 3)
ChapterEighteen
SEB
October 31, 2022
We won the second game of the series 9-7. I had a three-run homer—five RBIs total. Alex continued his unbelievable play in the field. Dane pitched. It wasn’t his best outing, but he still got the W.
Sophie was the first person I saw when I came out of the dugout after the game. She was standing in the exact same place as last night. All I could think about when I saw her is how we get to spend the night together for the first time in two days. I can’t wait to get home.
“You seem like you found your groove,” Alex says as we walk toward the interview room after the game. “You’re killing it on the field.”
“Yeah, I feel better. Sophie’s safe. Mason and Butch have her covered. No one’s even attempted to get at her. And there haven’t been any more of those stupid tweets since the series started.”
“That’s great,” he says. “Raine’s still trying to find out who’s posting those. She said the user must have some computer or IT background. They’ve done a pretty good job of hiding their identity.”
“I don’t care who they are,” I say, following him onto the podium, “as long as they quit talking about her, I’m good.”
* * *
Twitter @miamibballbabe
(October 31, 2022)
2-0 and @realsebmiller is killing it. Probably because team security’s sneaking #sopHOHOHOny to his private office for pregame conjugal visits. Don’t believe me? Why do you think there’s a bed in there?
* * *
I take a seat between Alex and Dane. Everyone’s still getting settled. I exhale and relax back into the chair. I feel so good that I almost don’t mind being here.
The MLB woman starts the press conference. Some guy has a question for Alex about the possibility of him being the MVP for the series. He gives the perfect answer—humble as usual.
“Can I jump in here?” I ask when he finishes. “The way Alex is playing, he deserves the MVP and a lot more. He’s the heart of this team. It’s not going to be the same playing without him next year.”
“Thanks, man.” Alex nods. “I’m going to miss playing with you—with all the guys.”
“Seb, you seem almost emotional,” the reporter says. “Are you thinking about retiring too?”
“Not right now, but we all have to retire sometime. I’m just glad I have the opportunity to play in the series with Alex before he’s done. We’ve been through a lot together. This is a great way to end it.”
The MLB woman looks at me and smiles. I think I might have won her over. She points at a reporter I’ve never seen. He stands up.
“Hey, Seb. Fred Marshall, TMZ Sports. Someone just tweeted that you have a private office in the stadium equipped with a bed and that before the games your wife joins you there for, uh, conjugal visits. Can you confirm first that the office exists? And then confirm that your wife is there before the games? And how often does that happen? I mean before games.”
The minute he mentions Sophie the painful energy bursts through my body again. I can feel the veins in my neck popping out. My teeth are clenched so tight that I’m not even sure I can unlock them to answer.
Ken rushes over to stand in front of us. The MLB woman scowls at him. He ignores her.
“Fred,” Ken says, “that’s not even close to being an appropriate question. Not to mention that everyone knows Seb doesn’t talk about his family to the media.”
“Can you confirm the room exists?” Fred looks from me back to Ken.
“Yes. As part of Seb’s five-year deal, he received a small office off the clubhouse to take care of business dealings. As I’m sure you can guess, Seb’s the most sought after player on our team. He spends extra hours in his private office answering fan mail and taking meetings with staff and sponsors.”
“Is there a bed in the office?” Fred looks back at me with a wry smile on his face. I want to punch it off so badly. “And if so, why?”
“Because sometimes I take naps during rain delays,” I say, glaring down at him. “I like to sleep. The team was nice enough to provide a place for me to do that. It’s not there for any other reason. The bed’s no bigger than this table. I can barely get my body on it, much less someone else’s.”
“Alex,” Fred says, the stupid smile still on his face. “How do you feel about Seb having a private space when you and the other players don’t?”
