The kid solemnly held that shield right in front of him, his face set in a scowl, probably meant to scare the bad guys away or something. Lucas stifled a laugh and looked up to see Miranda and Cole watching him, bemused, while the photographer snapped his picture. Lucas struck a pose, both of them looking fierce, and everyone laughed.
Finally, Miranda spoke about the value of the sponsorship and what the kids had been doing with the money. Lucas tuned out the speech, especially as it seemed the shield was a big hit. The kids passed it around, each taking turns standing next to him striking poses. Miranda shot him a dark look, which softened at how much fun the kids were having.
To be honest, he was having fun, too. He wasn’t Lucas Wainright right now, but the Georgia Knight, free to be silly and have fun, something he could have never done before today, so focused on maintaining a professional distance. One pose was an attack. Another was the kid fighting back, defeating him. The kids were all under ten and were laughing nonstop.
Miranda finally ended the speech with a laugh. “Since no one cares about what I’m saying in light of the play going on behind me, can we please have the photo op so the players can get on with the game?”
The kids all settled around Miranda with barely a complaint, a few kids on the ground and some of the older kids holding the donation check from the Knights. Lucas sidled up on the right side of Miranda, with Cole on the left. The cameraman motioned them to move closer and he shifted closer, placing a hand on Miranda’s low back. She jumped and glared up at him, trying to see through the eye slits. Her eyes widened.
“Lucas?” She whispered.
He nodded towards the photographer and the flash went off, temporarily blinding him. They had to remain in the spot while the anthem was sung. Miranda leaned into him.
“What the hell are you doing?” She hissed under her breath.
“Your pal Hammonds asked me to fill in for Wayne, your regular mascot. I’m getting involved. Aren’t you happy?”
“We’ll discuss it later.”
While her words promised a threat, the tone was pleased, and he smirked under the helmet. Maybe Hammonds was right. Nothing like having credit in the bank.
*
After the ceremoniesand anthem, they all filed into the dugout. Miranda shook each player’s hand and made a comment about the season, all personal to each player.
“Cody, good luck with the two-seamer. You had some good success with it at the end of spring training.” The cocky kid faked a grin but it didn’t quite cover the nerves for Opening Day.
She pulled Prosser aside, the new catcher, and spoke softly so no one else could hear, although Lucas was standing close enough to overhear. “Don’t worry about the papers or anyone else. You’re the cornerstone of this team. We need you to settle Cody and provide some strength for the other players. Can you do that for me?”
The young catcher, not sweating bullets in all his gear like Lucas was, nodded solemnly.
Lucas sidled up to her after the players had filed onto the field. “Don’t you think you’re putting a little too much pressure on the kid?”
“You’re the one who said we needed a strong cornerstone for the team and that Prosser was the one to do it.” She tilted her head and shot him a sidelong glance.
“Really? I think I said he was a good pitch framer, and could handle some young pitchers. Not the kind of player to build a team around.” He sounded a bit grumpy and didn’t like it.
With the kids gone, the players had scattered. Nine of them were warming up on the field and the remaining players wandered around the dugout, finding their spot for the season. Cole and the coaching staff had also wandered off, leaving Miranda and Lucas in the entrance to the tunnel, alone. She flipped the visor from the helmet up.
“Is it really you in there? How the hell did you get voted for this?” She laughed.
He grunted. “Well, your general manager ordered me to step up when your usual guy bailed. Food poisoning or something.”
Miranda shot a glance down the dugout to where Cole was standing with the manager, Sam, and she cracked up. “More likely his arthritis was acting up. Wayne didn’t want to retire as groundskeeper so dad offered him this position as mascot, a few years ago. It might be a little too much for an eighty-year-old man but Wayne likes being part of the team.”
“Really? Eighty, huh?” Reality was slowly dawning and Cole was edging further away, a smirk on his face.
“Yes, he wouldn’t be caught dead hamming it up with the kids or even for the fans. We can barely get him to lift his sword.”
“Would you excuse me for a minute?” Cole was definitely on his shit list.
By now Miranda was openly laughing, gasping for air in between trying to speak. “Maybe you should change first. Need some help?”
With one final glare down the dugout, where Cole was doubled over with mirth, Lucas stomped down the tunnel to the small room to get rid of the metal armor and plot his revenge. Miranda followed, her laughter still echoing down the tunnel, even as the game began and the crowd roared.
He slammed the door shut to the small room and began tugging at the laces but his gloves got in the way. He shook his hands, trying to dislodge the gear but they stubbornly clung to him like a second skin. Probably the sweat that was building up inside this thermal suit. No wonder the old guy ditched the job as often as he could. Wearing this could kill a guy his age. Hell, it could kill a guy Lucas’s age, especially in the dead heat of summer.
The door opened and Miranda stepped in the room, wiping the tears from her eyes. She closed the door, little snorts of laughter still erupting occasionally. “Seriously, that was the best thing I’ve seen in a long time. Did you have fun?”