Mackenzie shoos her away from peeking inside the bags. “Don’t look!”
“Honey, I’ll do you one better than storing those in the basement. We’ll light us a bonfire tonight.”
“Toxic fumes!”
I manage to get a glimpse too, and I gasp. I don’t know if it’s horror or delight or somewhere in between, but I know that the Dr Pepper is giving me a caffeine buzz that’s distracting me from wondering what Luca’s doing and how he’s coping and if Nonna got rid of his father or if he’ll know his dad is in the stands at the game tonight.
Gah. Now I’m thinking about it all over again.
No. Nope.
Concentrate on the bag of stolen stuffed fireflies.
“Why would they make those?” I whisper as I point to the bag.
“Giveaways to fans. But justice has been done, and at the next home game, twenty-thousand fans will get stuffed Fiery the Dragons instead of these abominations. No one will have to pick anything less than the best.”
“I am so in love with you right now,” Marisol whispers.
Mackenzie grins. “I know. I’m a little in love with me too. Though my dads are pissed at how much space the other nineteen thousand of these puppies are taking up in their dressing room at the club…”
“Girl. You are goals.”
“I’m a fan doing what any fan would do. Probably. Oh! Did I tell you that my dads know someone who can set up a black market auction, and then we can donate all the proceeds to charity?”
“Like a charity to train baseball owners to not give bad mascot choices?”
“Yes.”
We all crack up, because we know she means a real charity.
At least, I think that’s the joke.
We stash the stuffed Glows, and then we dig into the noodle feast that Mackenzie brought from her dads’ lounge. “How’s Emilio doing with his dad on the road?” she asks Marisol.
“They’re bickering like always, but he’s loving it. Like, if they don’t argue over whose music is better, have they actually seen each other? What about Brooks? Is his dad all look at my new granddaughters, or has he paused to remember that he’s supposed to pretend he cares that he has a few sons who haven’t given him grandkids?”
“He’s pretty much all look at my new granddaughters, but since Brooks is lowkey hoping for six or seven baby girls himself, he’s cool with it.”
“Brooks wants kids? Like, right now?”
“He’s conflicted. He does have at least a decade’s worth of having sex to make up, which I am completely here for, but when he talks about the babies…” Her smile goes dreamy for a moment, then she blushes and shakes her head. “We’re still working on getting through this season and having the wedding and then not cursing ourselves or the team with anything first.”
“Aw, you two are adorable. Can Brooks maybe rub off on Emilio?”
I lunge across the table to hug Marisol, because I know that feeling.
I’m giving it up, but I know that feeling.
She squeezes me back. “Is Luca’s dad traveling with the team?”
“Ah,” I start, but Mackenzie coughs and shakes her head.
“No way. Management wouldn’t do that to him.”
I lift my brows at her.
She ruffles hers together. “You don’t know?”
Have you met Luca? doesn't seem like the brightest answer if I’m going to keep insisting we’re happily dating. “I know he doesn’t get along with his dad, but we don’t talk about serious things yet…”
She rolls her eyes. “You mean he’s pulling a man and refusing to talk to you about it whenever you bring it up, like it doesn’t color his entire world view?”
I nod. “Yes. That.”
Marisol cracks up in her drink and has to wipe her chin and nose, which I totally appreciate, since that’s usually me. “Men. I swear.”
I lean into Mackenzie. “So what do you know?”
She bites her lip, then leans in too. “You know he was engaged?”
I nod.
Marisol nods.
“He was playing for New York with Brooks that year. He found out on his wedding day that his fiancée had been paid to go on dates with him.”
“Oh, that’s bad,” Marisol whispers as my heart drops to my toes.
Lyle dated me because he wanted an in at my father’s bank. That metaphorical slap in the face when I found out—I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
And Luca, who was already sensitive to the dangers of falling in love after being abandoned by multiple father figures in his childhood, must’ve gotten punched in the heart with it.
Mackenzie’s frowning like she’s afraid of putting bad vibes out in the universe when the team is so close to the playoffs, but she still keeps talking. “He gave an interview about how love was for suckers, and his agent thought it looked bad, so…”
“His agent paid a woman to date him?”
“Yeah. Brooks said Luca found out hours before the wedding when his dad let it slip. Apparently the same guy was his dad’s agent back in the day. Mr. Rossi and Luca started reconnecting once Luca went pro and signed with the guy.”
Oh my god.
My heart demands that I open my chest and let it take wing to fly up to Boston and hug him. It’s one thing to know your dad’s a very busy man, like mine, keeping a bank running so people can borrow money for homes and cars and build their nest eggs, but it’s another to be treated like you’re worthless until you achieve the practically impossible and become an elite pro athlete, merely to get smacked in the face with the idea that no one could love you unless they’re paid to?
“Nuh-uh.” Marisol leans back and shakes her head. “No parent is that heartless. Are you sure you’re not feeding us a story?”
Mackenzie goes pink. “Don’t underestimate my ability to do research when it comes to baseball players. I…might’ve found out way more than I should’ve about all of the Fireballs’ new players over the winter.”
Poor Luca.
But I can fix this. I can— “No.”
My two friends shoot me startled glances, and now I, too, am undoubtedly turning pink. “I mean, that’s not right.”
“I got my story wrong? Or you don’t want the gossip?”
“No! I’m sure you’re right, and I want all the gossip. Luca and I are still enjoying…you know…the easy benefits, so we haven’t exactly shared all the deep and meaningful stuff yet—though I know we will—but that’s so cruel. And wrong.”
“He fired his agent the same day. And he was mid-negotiation for exercising his contract option with New York, which is part of why he got traded. Everything stalled too long, and his new agent had higher aspirations. It’s worked out well, I’d say—the new guy’s the one who was like, ‘start growing your hair enough that we get a few good shots for me to sell to shampoo companies.’ Kinda ruthless, but also admirable, I guess?”
“Paid off,” Marisol mutters. “Emilio can’t even get endorsement deals for used car lots.”
“Emilio needs a new agent too. Oh! Game time! Where’s the popcorn? And I promised Brooks we’d do the wave together for good luck, and do you mind if I light a few candles? We’re so close. I need to smell fall. I need to smell fall and believe.”