𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 | 𝐛. 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐳

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 - 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 | 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧

"YOU'RE TRADING FOR STRATEGY. You don't really need him. But you want him because of his recent successes." I say.
      They exhale sharply, looking at one another curiously. I place my hand on the table and reach forward to grab the red folder. I grab it, opening it. Contractual pages for both Aaron Judge and Benjamin Rodriguez sit in the front of the folder. Pictures, statistics, and other comparisons between the two boys sit and stare me in the face. 
      "We're interested in trading to increase strategy, yes. But it also introduces both men to the possibility of playing on the opposite league. It's a wondrous opportunity. We just need to speak with Daniel Richards about it."
"What about Judge and Rodriguez? When do you tell them that you're flying them across the country to a city they've never lived in before and tell them, they're playing for an entirely different team than they are currently on? When do you tell them that?" I ask.
Andrew and Will both purse their lips, Will adjusting his glasses, then removing them to clean a microscopic spec of dust.
"You don't, great." I say, exhaling. "You don't tell them until it's already too late. Good luck to Rodriguez and Judge, I guess."
"Well, neither of them qualifies for a 10-5, you understand waivers and all that business." Will says. "We're not obligated to tell them of the trade until it becomes official."
I clear my throat, approaching the window with the folder still in hand.
"Oh, damn, looks like you can't talk to Daniel right now. He's busy with the team." I say.
Andrew raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest.
"And why not? We've traveled all this way to speak with Mr. Rodriguez and Coach Richards." He says. "You understand the grueling flight between New York City and Los Angeles, I'm sure."
I shrug, jutting my thumb back behind me as I frown at them.
"You see, tonight, we have a game against the Arizona Diamondbacks. Right now, Daniel is talking with his team and they're beginning their warmup. And, I'm almost positive that after the game, they'll be eager to head home and get some rest before the game tomorrow too. I'd say your best bet at talking to them is to come back on Thursday or Friday, when they aren't as busy. I'm sure, as baseball representatives yourselves, you'll understand." I say. "Scott, may I see you out in the hall for a moment?"
He nods and stands from his seat. We step into the Hall and he closes the door behind him.
"We cannot let them trade Judge and Rodriguez. Sure, it would be Badass to get to work with Aaron Judge, but Benny cannot be traded. He's worked his ass off to get where he is now. Keep them distracted, I'm going down to talk to Benny and Daniel." I say.
I run to the Elevator, the folder still in my clutches. I hold onto it like my life depends on it. I tuck it beneath my denim jacket, exhaling sharply. The beeping as the elevator slowly drops to the main level sends a nail through me with every high-pitched beep. The elevator stops and the doors open. I run through the hall, dodging fans here for the game. I run into a woman, grunting as my bruised shoulder hits hers.
"Sorry, ma'am!" I exclaim, waving as I run towards the stairs to the Dugout.
My P.F. Flyers slap against the ground as I run towards the dugout. I step outside, spotting Benny and Cal stretching their arms.
"Benny!" I exclaim, running towards him. "Benny, we need to talk!"
I stop before him, retrieving the folder from my jacket.
"Lennon, do you have the Rosters? I've gotta check over them before the game starts." Daniel says, approaching us.
I shake my head, looking up at Smalls' office briefly.
"I didn't have time to work on Rosters. I have some important news. It concerns Benny." I say, looking up at him.
I open the folder, pointing to his contract, then Aaron Judge's.
"The Yankees want you. They plan to trade you with Judge. It's a strategy grab. Judge is twenty eight, two years older than you, but they think those two years mean life and death. They planned to trade you without telling you." I say, handing him the folder.
Benny flips through the folder, eyebrows furrowed.
"Holy Shit," He says, scanning over every little detail. "I could be the next Babe."
I raise an eyebrow and stare up at him. His deep chocolate brown eyes scan over the folder. I smack his shoulder and glare up at him.
"You could be 'The Next Babe' here! Sure, the Yankees are cool and all, but you were destined for the Dodgers." I say, watching him.
He looks down at me with a raised eyebrow. His lips are a tanned peachy color, a slight crack in them from the heat.
"Oh, Lennon, don't tell me you'd actually miss me if I went." He says.
I glare up at him and nod, angry tears threatening to spill over.
"Of course I'd miss you if you went, you blockhead. You were my best friend all those years ago, and sure, shit really hit the fan between us, but I cannot imagine working here without you." I say. "You can't leave."
He smiles and smacks the tip of my hat gently, then fixes it with his index finger.
"Of course I'm not leaving, Len. I just like to make you sweat." He says, scrunching up his nose.
I smile again, watching his perfect dimples in his cheeks.
"Miss. Davis, I believe you have something that belongs to us," Andrew says, approaching us.
They approach from Benny's side, approaching quickly. Smalls approaches from behind me, nodding to me quickly. Benny slaps the folder shut, holding it in his hand. He spins around, his hands behind his back, the folder wagging slightly, begging me to take it from him. I grab it, pushing it behind my back, mimicking his hands, desperately trying to get Smalls to take it.
"Ah, gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Daniel asks, shaking each man's hand.
They look to Benny, an eyebrow raised. He smiles at them and licks his lip momentarily.
"We're here with the New York Yankees. We have some business to discuss regarding Benjamin Rodriguez. If Miss. Davis will hand over that folder, now, this could go a lot more quickly." Will says.
Smalls snatches the folder from my hand, allowing me to relax. I hold out my hands in surrender, shrugging to them.
"I don't have your folder, boys," I say. "Sorry, I don't know what happened to it."
They raise their eyebrows, staring at my empty hands.
"Mr. Green, Mr. Allen, I have something of yours." Smalls says, approaching them. "You must have left it up on my desk upstairs. I noticed it when you boys left."
      He hands them the red folder, approaching Benny and I. Benny and I both exhale sharply, smiling.
      "Thanks, Smalls, you really saved my Ass there." I say.
      Smalls shrugs, looking up at Benny with a wide grin.
      "Hey, I want him to stay too, so I had to help out." He says, smiling at us.