Then he started talking about hitting. After talking about some of the guys in the order, he got to me. "Woodard, was that hitting display of yesterday a fluke?" he said with an ill-concealed laugh.
"No," I said, my fury building.
"Now, you didn’t play every day with your old school."
"Yes, I did."
"Obviously, that school had a talent problem," he chortled.
"That’s an interesting theory," I said, "about the Massachusetts State runners-up. Division Two, true, but state runners-up all the same, and we would’ve won the championship if I hadn’t exceeded my innings and been able to pitch the final game."
"You mean to tell me that a state runners-up didn’t have anyone else to DH?"
"I didn’t DH! When I wasn’t pitching, I played Center Fucking Field!"
"Hey, that could work," said Frankie, who was going to start in center when he wasn’t pitching. The coach just glared at him.
"And they would’ve found somewhere to play me when I wasn’t pitching-you don’t sit down your fucking leadoff hitter!" I continued.
"You. Hit leadoff." The coach was flabbergasted.
That did it. "Leadoff..320 average..430 OBP. Plus 27 steals in 29 attempts in only 28 games, plus I scored 35 runs. Oh, and if you think you’re sending me out as a sacrificial lamb tomorrow, get a load of these numbers. Nine wins, zero losses in ten starts. And the one I didn’t win, I left a scoreless tie in the eleventh. Zero point three two earned run average. A strikeout to walk ratio of a hundred and two to twelve. That’s in 85 innings. I threw two no-hitters. I didn’t make all-conference, I made all state. As a sophomore!" I stood up. "You have your little chuckles. You think you’re setting me up to take a fall tomorrow. You’d better be good and damned prepared to come here tomorrow and watch a fucking three-hit shutout. Now, if this silly meeting is over, you’ll have to excuse me. I have to go study. Because I’m a straight A student, too!" And I stormed out of the room.
I probably shouldn’t have done it. I know. But I was pissed. I slumped against the locker room door, totally drained. Then I heard the sound of laughter from inside the locker room. I was all set to storm back in there and rip somebody’s throat out. Until I heard the coach bellow, "Kirkland, what’s so fucking funny?"
"The greatest girl in the world, that’s what’s so funny," I heard Mike say. "That, and the look on your face. Sorry, Coach, but you looked like you had swallowed your tongue. And, Coach, I gotta say it. If I were a betting man, my money’d be on the three hit shutout."
Aw. That’s all I could think. Aw. He stuck up for me-and he did it without getting all possessive and pissed off and boyfriend-like. He did it with wit and style.
Then he came out. Big shit-eating grin on his face. I got some glares from some of the team-but pats on the shoulder from Eddie, Frankie, and Ty. We walked out of the locker room, he pulled me off into a corner-and gave me a big hug. "You, my dear, have more balls than most guys." I could just smile.
We made arrangements to go out, he was going to pick me up, so I gave him directions. Then I threw on my clothes-chuckling at the lack of panties-and headed home.
"Lily, is that you?" It was Mom.
"Yeah. I’m starting tomorrow."
"That’s great! Too bad your father and I can’t go."
"There will be plenty of opportunities. Hey, I need your help. Can you come upstairs with me?"
"Sure."
"Mike’s taking me to Luciano’s for dinner."
"Aw, that’s nice," Mom said. "Oh, that means your father and I will get to meet him, yes?"
"Yes, he’s picking me up. Anyhow, I need your help. I need something to wear, and I want you to help me with my hair."
"Going all girly-girl tonight?" she chuckled.
"Yep. He’s seen me halfway-in the parking lot this morning before school when I was wearing this. And he’s seen me with dirt and eyeblack and stuff. But he’s never seen me in full girl mode."
"Are you testing him?" she asked.
"Nah. Hey, if he can accept the eyeblack and stuff, I don’t think he’ll have any problem accepting Lily The Girl. However, I do want to shock the shit out of him," I grinned.
"Ah," she laughed. "OK, well, let me riff through your closet, I’ll get a selection out for you. And while I’m doing that, you need a shower. Wash that hair before I style it."
"Good plan." I started stripping off my clothes, forgetting what I wasn’t wearing.
Mom noticed. Ah, well, like I said-she’s cool. "Lily, honey? Where, exactly, are your panties?" She was stifling a giggle.
"In Mike’s bookbag," I grinned. "Presented them to him this morning. And I made sure I got myself nice and horny on the way to school."
She wasn’t stifling the giggle anymore. "You minx! So he had your…wet panties…"
" Very wet panties."
"Oh my. OK, very wet panties in his bookbag all day?"
"Yup," I grinned.
"Oh, Lily, I hope he really likes you after that!"
"Oh, he got me back."
"Oh, really? How?"
Hmmm. Well, should I answer that? What the hell. "Under the table at lunch, with his hand, right in the middle of the lunchroom," I grinned.
"He didn’t!"
"He did. Have you ever been in a situation where you were cumming up an absolute storm and had to force yourself not to make a single noise? Jesus. It was complete, blissful, fantastic, exquisite pain."
"I can imagine," she laughed. Then she looked at me. "Lily. You’ve actually found a guy to keep up with you, haven’t you?"
"Yeah. And how. And in every way." I told her about my outburst to the Coach, and Mike’s reaction to it.
"I’ve never told you about this. I worry about you. I know you’ve had lots of boyfriends, but they never seemed to last, and there never seemed to be much emotional content, even for a teenaged girl. It just seemed they were all about sex. And I must admit, I sort of worried when I found out you slept with Mike before you guys even had an actual date. But, jeez, honey, if you’ve actually found a guy who can keep up with you…wow. I worried they didn’t exist."
"Yeah, me too," I admitted. "And Mike is a new thing. But, Jesus, Mom, so far he’s just perfect. I have to tell you, I think I could fall for this guy in a big way."
"I think you already are," she smiled. I smiled back. She had a point.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN MIKEI showed up at Lily’s at the appointed hour, and knocked on the door. Her Dad answered. He shook my hand and welcomed me in. Said he was glad to finally meet me "after hearing so much." Hmm. I wonder what Lily had told them. Anyway, if he knew about our right-field escapades, he must not have minded, because he was very nice.
We sat in the living room, and chatted. About baseball, about the team. You know, guy stuff. Then I heard a creak on the stairs, and looked up, and saw Lily walking down.
Oh. My. God.
I couldn’t fucking swallow. Or breathe. Or think.
She was wearing a spaghetti-strap blouse, black, low-cut, ruffly, with a cinched waist, that flared out at the end. A red skirt, short and flared. Black panty hose. Red heels (not too high, thankfully, since I was shorter to begin with!). And her face! She had makeup on, lightly but skillfully applied. And her hair was down. I’d only seen it in a ponytail, or up under her cap on the field. Tonight, it was down, and had been styled with a curler of some sort. It cascaded past her shoulders in chocolate waves.
She was…exquisite.
Don’t forget, I had fallen in love with a ballplayer. I had made love to this girl when she was a sweaty, dirty, mussed-haired, grass-stained pitcher. And I had told her she was beautiful. And I had meant every word. I saw the beauty in a cocky, shitkicking, take-no-prisoners ball of fire who struck me out on three pitches and made love in the outfield like a banshee. And now I was confronted with this vision coming down the stairs at me.