All Wound Up
Page 34
“I’ll have Chianti,” Aubry said.
“Beer for me,” Tucker said, then looked over at Aubry. “How was your day?”
“Intense. Rough. Yours?”
“We had an afternoon game. We lost.”
“I’m sorry. Did you pitch?”
He shook his head. “No. Garrett Scott did. But it’s still tough to lose a game. Even harder when I’m not the one in control.”
“You like to be in control.”
His lips curved. “I’d pitch every game if they let me.”
Their waitress brought their drinks.
“Thanks,” Tucker said to the waitress.
“You’re welcome. Sorry about the loss today.”
Obviously she recognized him. “Thank you. We’ll get ’em next time.”
After the waitress walked away, Aubry took a sip of her wine, then said, “That must happen a lot.”
“What?”
“People recognizing you. Talking to you about baseball.”
He shrugged. “Not as often as you might think.”
“I don’t know.” She leaned back in her chair, cradling her wineglass between both hands. “St. Louis is a big baseball city. They know their players.”
“And here I thought you didn’t care about baseball.”
“Oh, I don’t. Actually, I prefer football.”
He frowned. “You’re joking, right?”
“I am not.”
He shook his head. “Great. Just great.”
“What’s wrong with football?”
“Oh, nothing. Other than the fact that the Cassidys are well known for being a football dynasty.”
“Is that right?” Then her eyes widened and she leaned forward. “Wait. Wait. I remember meeting Grant and Barrett when they brought you into the ER, but for some reason I didn’t recognize him at the time. Grant’s the Traders’ quarterback, right?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. I don’t know why I didn’t make that connection. How fascinating. And Barrett plays football, too?”
“Oh, it’s worse than that. Barrett’s actually my twin. He plays for the Tampa Bay Hawks. And I have another brother, Flynn, who plays for the San Francisco Sabers. My dad is Easton Cassidy, former quarterback for Green Bay and now a Hall of Famer.”
She laughed. “You have got to be kidding me. You do have a big football family.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So why are you the only one who plays baseball?”
Not the first time he’d heard that question. “Because I like baseball.”
“You never wanted to play football like the rest of your family?”
“Nope.”
“So you’re not playing baseball because you couldn’t cut it in football or anything?”
Not the first time he’d heard that question, either. “Uh, no. I played both when I was a kid, and decided I liked baseball better. You could ask your dad—or the Rivers coach. I’m a damn good pitcher.”
She laid her glass on the table and raised her hands in the air. “I believe you. And obviously you’re with the Rivers now because you’re good. The general manager and my dad don’t put people on the team if they’re not good at what they do. I just find it curious that out of this family dynasty of football players, you’re the only one who chose baseball.”
“You’re not the first person who thinks it was because I couldn’t cut it as a football player.”
Their hostess came and directed them to their table. The restaurant was separate from the bar, and the décor was different as well. Well lit, yet more intimate, not as loud as the bar. They were settled into a cozy booth in the corner, providing them some privacy.
“Enjoy your meal, Mr. Cassidy,” the hostess said with a bright smile.
“Thanks.”
Tucker opened the menu, studied it for a minute while he made his selection, then closed it. Their waiter came by, introduced himself and told them about the specials, then asked if they wanted more to drink. Tucker looked over at Aubry.
“I’ll have another Chianti.”
“Another beer for me.”
They ordered appetizers and their meals while their waiter was there. He walked off to get their drinks.
“Now it’s my turn to apologize,” Aubry said.
“For what?”
“For baiting you about football. I was just teasing you. Not about me liking football, but about why you chose baseball.”
He shrugged. “I’m used to it. I’ve taken shit my entire life for besmirching the Cassidy name by becoming a pitcher instead of taking on football.”
“You have not. Really? Hopefully not by your family.”
“Nah. My brothers give me a hard time, but that’s what brothers are for. My parents have always been supportive. My dad told me to do what makes me happy.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. As long as the people you care about support you, they’re who matter. Everyone else can go fuck themselves.”
He laughed. “Thanks. That’s what I’ve always thought.”
“Look, I know exactly where you’re coming from. My choice to go into medicine was a surprise to a lot of people. My mother is in finance and she helps run the Ross empire with Dad. His love of sports is legendary. It was always assumed that I, as their only child, would move into the family business and work in the front office of Ross Enterprises. But I excelled in math and science, and from a young age I knew I wanted to be a doctor.”
“Beer for me,” Tucker said, then looked over at Aubry. “How was your day?”
“Intense. Rough. Yours?”
“We had an afternoon game. We lost.”
“I’m sorry. Did you pitch?”
He shook his head. “No. Garrett Scott did. But it’s still tough to lose a game. Even harder when I’m not the one in control.”
“You like to be in control.”
His lips curved. “I’d pitch every game if they let me.”
Their waitress brought their drinks.
“Thanks,” Tucker said to the waitress.
“You’re welcome. Sorry about the loss today.”
Obviously she recognized him. “Thank you. We’ll get ’em next time.”
After the waitress walked away, Aubry took a sip of her wine, then said, “That must happen a lot.”
“What?”
“People recognizing you. Talking to you about baseball.”
He shrugged. “Not as often as you might think.”
“I don’t know.” She leaned back in her chair, cradling her wineglass between both hands. “St. Louis is a big baseball city. They know their players.”
“And here I thought you didn’t care about baseball.”
“Oh, I don’t. Actually, I prefer football.”
He frowned. “You’re joking, right?”
“I am not.”
He shook his head. “Great. Just great.”
“What’s wrong with football?”
“Oh, nothing. Other than the fact that the Cassidys are well known for being a football dynasty.”
“Is that right?” Then her eyes widened and she leaned forward. “Wait. Wait. I remember meeting Grant and Barrett when they brought you into the ER, but for some reason I didn’t recognize him at the time. Grant’s the Traders’ quarterback, right?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. I don’t know why I didn’t make that connection. How fascinating. And Barrett plays football, too?”
“Oh, it’s worse than that. Barrett’s actually my twin. He plays for the Tampa Bay Hawks. And I have another brother, Flynn, who plays for the San Francisco Sabers. My dad is Easton Cassidy, former quarterback for Green Bay and now a Hall of Famer.”
She laughed. “You have got to be kidding me. You do have a big football family.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So why are you the only one who plays baseball?”
Not the first time he’d heard that question. “Because I like baseball.”
“You never wanted to play football like the rest of your family?”
“Nope.”
“So you’re not playing baseball because you couldn’t cut it in football or anything?”
Not the first time he’d heard that question, either. “Uh, no. I played both when I was a kid, and decided I liked baseball better. You could ask your dad—or the Rivers coach. I’m a damn good pitcher.”
She laid her glass on the table and raised her hands in the air. “I believe you. And obviously you’re with the Rivers now because you’re good. The general manager and my dad don’t put people on the team if they’re not good at what they do. I just find it curious that out of this family dynasty of football players, you’re the only one who chose baseball.”
“You’re not the first person who thinks it was because I couldn’t cut it as a football player.”
Their hostess came and directed them to their table. The restaurant was separate from the bar, and the décor was different as well. Well lit, yet more intimate, not as loud as the bar. They were settled into a cozy booth in the corner, providing them some privacy.
“Enjoy your meal, Mr. Cassidy,” the hostess said with a bright smile.
“Thanks.”
Tucker opened the menu, studied it for a minute while he made his selection, then closed it. Their waiter came by, introduced himself and told them about the specials, then asked if they wanted more to drink. Tucker looked over at Aubry.
“I’ll have another Chianti.”
“Another beer for me.”
They ordered appetizers and their meals while their waiter was there. He walked off to get their drinks.
“Now it’s my turn to apologize,” Aubry said.
“For what?”
“For baiting you about football. I was just teasing you. Not about me liking football, but about why you chose baseball.”
He shrugged. “I’m used to it. I’ve taken shit my entire life for besmirching the Cassidy name by becoming a pitcher instead of taking on football.”
“You have not. Really? Hopefully not by your family.”
“Nah. My brothers give me a hard time, but that’s what brothers are for. My parents have always been supportive. My dad told me to do what makes me happy.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. As long as the people you care about support you, they’re who matter. Everyone else can go fuck themselves.”
He laughed. “Thanks. That’s what I’ve always thought.”
“Look, I know exactly where you’re coming from. My choice to go into medicine was a surprise to a lot of people. My mother is in finance and she helps run the Ross empire with Dad. His love of sports is legendary. It was always assumed that I, as their only child, would move into the family business and work in the front office of Ross Enterprises. But I excelled in math and science, and from a young age I knew I wanted to be a doctor.”
