𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 | 𝐛. 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐳

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 | 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧

      "LENNON, can you run up to Smalls' office? I know there's still about five hours until the game officially starts, but I want you to talk with Smalls about batting lineup." Daniel says.
       I nod, grabbing the clipboard from him and retrieve one of my better-working pens from my bag before clearing my throat.
        "Um, Mr. Richards, what exactly do you want me to talk about with him in the batting lineup?" I ask.
        He smiles, his smile lines an obvious feature of a life well lived and exhales.
       "Please, call me Daniel," He says. "And I want you to talk strategy with him. You and Smalls grew up together, as well as Benny. If you can get a word in edge-wise with Benny, talk strategy. Smalls isn't supposed to be biased towards our team, but we don't really rat him out because of his friendship with Benny and the guys. Plus, you three make one hell of a team." He says.
      I nod, smiling. I begin to walk away when Daniel groans and shakes his head.
      "Never mind, Lennon. Benny and Smalls are in the middle of a 'very important conversation' with some people upstairs. You won't get to talk to either of them until the others leave." He says. "I wouldn't even bother going up there."
      I raise an eyebrow and look up towards Smalls' office. I can't see him or Benny through the window.
      "Some people, what do you mean? Who could they be and what do they want with Benny?" I ask.
      He sighs and leans back against the dugout wall, his arms crossed over his chest in defeat.
      "Probably some scouters from another team trying to convince him to trade. I'm gonna lose my star rookie to The Astros or The Padres, Hell, maybe even to the Yankees if he decides to trade to American League." He says.
       I shake my head and scoff, laughing at the head-coach for how blindly ignorant he is to his star player's admiration of this team.
        "You aren't going to lose Benny. Smalls is his greatest advocate and will fight like Hell to keep Benny here. Plus, Benny has admired the Dodgers since he came out of the womb. He was raised into his admiration of this team. He played in a tiny-old baseball diamond in the middle of our neighborhood for the better part of eighteen years of his life and never, not once, stopped loving the Dodgers. Sure, there were times where he was mad as Hell because of a dumb play, or a bad call by the Umpires, but that boy eats, sleeps, and breathes Dodgers baseball. You have a good egg in your basket, and he isn't leaving anytime soon." I say. "And I'm going up there because I like a challenge."
      I spin on my sneaker and walk towards the stairs, walking through the main hall, passing a few fans who are fortunate enough to have early-access tickets. I walk to the elevator and use my badge to go up to the top level where Smalls' office is. I adjust my navy sweater over my black and white striped t-shirt and torn blue jeans. My P.F. Flyers are dirty—I'll need to clean them off when I get back to my apartment. I pull my hat back on after adjusting my ponytail and looking at my watch. The elevator bell dings and I step off, walking past four offices before taking a left turn down the hall to Smalls' office.
"Now, for what do I owe the pleasure of meeting with these two multi-millionaires?" Benny asks, obvious joy in his voice. "And you, one of the pioneer-inventors of Bungie-jumping! And the great Hambino? That's nuts!"
      I raise an eyebrow and slowly continue in that direction. These definitely are not talent scouts.
"Nine kids? Seriously, you and Wendy had nine kids? It's only been Seven years! Ay, Denunez, how are 'The Heaters' doing this season? Playing well like their uncle Benny? And where the Hell is Bertram? I haven't heard from him since I left town!" Benny exclaims.
      I stand before the cracked door now, listening closely.
"Neither have we! And Yeah-Yeah, we get it! You're some big-shot Dodger boy with a real knack for the ladies. You don't have to rub it in." One man says. "God, Smalls, didn't Benny tell you to throw that hat in the fireplace?"
        "At least I'm still 'The babe', right? And sure, Benny may still be 'The Jet' and be famous and all, but what about the rest of us? We've done pretty good in stabilizing ourselves." Another man says.
       "It really sucks what happened with you and Len, it would be great to see her again. I hear she's some big-time news reporter now." Another man says.
      I knock on the door and push it open slowly, spotting Smalls and Benny smiling at a table.
      "Hey, Smalls? Or, Scott, sorry, gotta remain professional here. Daniel wanted me to come up and review strategy with you and Benny." I say.
       I turn my head, hoping who I think is there really is. A group of six men, other than Benny and Smalls, stands at the table, all smiling at one another. Their eyes land on me and Ham's jaw drops open wide.
       "Lenny?" They all exclaim, their voices deeper than the last time I saw them.
        I smile, waving at them. They run at me, all hugging me like their lives depend on it.
        "Holy Shit, boys, calm down! You're killing me!" I exclaim, gasping for air as they squeeze me even tighter.
         "What in the Hell are you doing here?" Kenny asks, an eyebrow raised. "Last we heard, you were some big-shot reporter up in NYC."
         I look at Benny and Smalls. Smalls smiles wider than I've ever seen before, a grin from ear to ear as he stares at everyone. Benny smirks, a smile I haven't seen in a while that I've missed. Ham notices me looking at Benny and raises an eyebrow.
         "So, are you two good again? Or...?" He asks, looking her at Benny cautiously.
         "Nope," I say bluntly, shrugging. "We really haven't had a chance to talk about everything that happened back then."
"Nor do we want to talk about it." Benny says. "It's in the past, let's just let it die there."
           Ham grimaces and nods, crossing his arms quickly. I raise an eyebrow and look at him.
           "Now, is it true that I heard Ham is now 'The Great Hambino'? I mean, I knew you loved Baby Ruth, but Damn do you have an obsession?" I ask. "And Squints, Nine kids? You and Wendy got busy Hella quick. And Kenny, congrats on your kid's team. Yeah-Yeah, I'm proud of you. Timmy and Tommy, thank you for creating my one pass-time on the weekends when I don't have work." I say.
      Being around the guys again gives me some peace about how I left, although not a ton. A week ago, Mrs. Rodriguez told me the toll my leaving took on her son. But I don't think Benny knows.
"Wait, Lennon, What are you doing here?" Squints asks, an eyebrow raised at me.
I smile, holding up the clipboard to show them my agenda before the game officially starts.
"Well, I am the on-field reporter for the Dodgers, but on the day of my first report, I might have helped create the batting order for inning seven to get the Dodgers up two. So, now, before every game, I come up and Smalls—Scott and I create the batting orders for each inning. I came up to talk strategy. You boys care to pitch in? Benny?" I ask. "I have some rough drafts, but was hoping Scott could help me finalize them."
"Len, you can just call me Smalls. Everyone does," Smalls says, smiling at me.
Benny smirks and approaches us, looking at the group.
"Sure, let's see what you've got there, Len." He says, placing his hands on his hips.