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THIRTEEN
SAWYER
THE HOUSE HAD VAULTED CEILINGS, recessed lighting, brand new appliances tiled floors and fresh paint. It was spacious, but also the way that the housed was staged, made it feel like a home. A breakfast nook overlooked the backyard and a beautiful pool with the stoned waterfall structure that fed into the hot tub. Gunnar was stepping through the double French doors that led into the back and was standing in front of the fire pit with his hands on his hips.
I went out and stood beside him, leaving the realtor inside so we can talk privately.
“You’re right.” He says quietly.
“I usually am, you know this, I know this - why is this news to you?” I say with a straight face.
“Funny.”
“The realtor says that the house has been on the market for a few months. There have been a few people interested, but it hasn’t been easy to sell in the housing market. Also, this is an expensive area and home prices are on the rise, so not as many people are buying right now.”
“Is she telling us to wait?” He asks in confusion.
“Not at all, she probably just wants us to buy right now. It’s probably an awesome commission for her.” I reply.
“I’m meeting after this with the Gila’s management and owners. I’m going to tell them that one of the other teams is offering me a pretty penny and hopefully they will counter with something better.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if they don’t?”
“I don’t see that being a problem. The chatter is that the team has the money to spend and their catcher is looking worse for wear.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask.
“I’ve been studying the current catchers for the three teams, and two of the three teams have catchers that are either on their way out, injured or just shit.”
“Which team’s current catcher is healthy? And man, I feel like a jerk for not caring about that.” I laugh.
“Boston’s player is fully healthy. Had a phenomenal spring training and is shaping up good. I’m not sure why Boston is wanting me, that guy is pure gold.”
“You’re pure gold too.” I say turning into him and wrapping my arms around his waist. I look up at him and kiss him quickly. “I love this house.”
“I love it too. It just feels like it could be home.” He replies leaning down and kissing me gently again as he squeezes my waist.
“So, what do we tell the realtor?” I ask.
“We still have a lot to discuss, but I wouldn’t be pissed if we talked to my accountant and put in an offer.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to look at other houses?” I ask him.
“Do you?” he asks.
“I love this house.” I whisper to him.
“HI! My name is Betty Melmen. I’m married to Brian Melman, the pitcher for the Gila Monsters. I hear that your man is Gunnar Reynolds, the very one who is sitting with the owners of the organization right now?” she says quietly as if she’s conspiring as we stand in the buffet line with our empty plates. Betty is the type of girl that looks like she belongs in the country. She has a straight-lined empire styled dress, and you can tell that she is uncomfortable in it with how her posture is. She has her brown hair in a sleek ponytail and she’s wearing flats. Her make-up is understated and she’s chewing gum.
“Hello, I’m Sawyer.” I say carefully with a small smile.
“Sawyer Rotham. I’ve heard all about you. You brought in a new persona to the Hornets.”
“I guess I did, for a time. I don’t work with the team anymore.” I explain.
“Yeah, I heard that too,” she says apologetically. “So, do you think that you guys are going to come to Arizona?”
“We’re looking at each offer carefully.” I say in my practiced line that both Gunnar and I have repeated repeatedly to reporters whenever asked.
