Champagne Brunch: The Stiletto Sisters Series by Ainsley Claire (e ink manga reader TXT) 📕

“Bryan? He’s blending in. I’ve seen this before, and the league is prepared. They have extra security in the cellars, and they rented some pretty big guys to be ushers down front to block people from accessing the field.”

Axel nods. “That’s good.”

The crowd is starting to fill the seats, and I can tell Peter wants me off the field. “I’m going to head up to the box,” I tell Axel. “Take your time and come up when you’re ready.”

“I shouldn’t be too long.” Axel gives me a kiss on the cheek, and I follow Peter off the field.

He walks me through the dugout and through what they call the cellars, the stadium’s bowels and a city of its own. I pull my pass from my pocket and an usher allows us to enter the owners’ elevator. It was built so an owner could leave the box and get right down to the locker room.

When the elevator doors open upstairs, the luxury box is stuffed with people. “Mia!” I hear Nate bellow. “Is our boy ready?”

“This is a pitcher’s park. I don’t want to jinx anything, but I think Jeremy is going to have a great game. He’s in the right place.”

“Have you met his parents?” Nate asks.

I shake my head, and he leads me to an older couple sitting in corner seats in the box’s front row.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, I’d like to introduce you to Mia Couture. She’s friends with Axel and was just down on the field talking to Jeremy. Mia, this is James and Mary Hamilton.”

They both stand and shake my hand. “Nice to meet you,” Mr. Hamilton says.

“I saw my boy gave you a hug. Are you his girlfriend?” Mrs. Hamilton eyes me carefully.

I bite back a grin as I shake my head. “Oh no. I’m friends with Axel and have had the chance to get to know Jeremy. He’s a great kid. When I talked to him on the field, he seemed very calm. He’s ready for the game. He’s going to be so excited when he finds out you’ve flown in for this.”

“We were fortunate that the town pitched in to buy us the tickets, and they’re taking care of our other kids and the farm,” Mr. Hamilton explains.

“They surprised you and now you’re surprising Jeremy? That’s fantastic. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Well, we didn’t get to see him break the record in San Diego…” Mrs. Hamilton sighs.

“True, but he may break it again today.” I lean in close. “Prophecy Park is a pitcher’s dream. Jeremy has his best stuff ready for today.” I give them a wink.

Mrs. Hamilton’s shoulders relax and Mr. Hamilton nods.

“Have you gotten anything to eat or drink?”

“We had breakfast on the plane,” Mr. Hamilton says.

I realize they don’t want to spend money they probably don’t have.

“Well, if you get hungry, help yourself. All of the food in here is free, and what’s not eaten is thrown away, so don’t hold back. Mr. Lancaster takes care of everyone in here, including the tips.”

Mr. Hamilton turns to look over at the food. “Well, those hot dogs do look pretty good.”

“My friend Peter here will watch our seats. Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“We can’t stop you,” Mr. Hamilton says.

Mrs. Hamilton rolls her eyes. “We’d love to have you sit with us. This is very exciting.”

We fill plates of food, and they’re amazed at all the choices.

“Mr. Hamilton, would you like a beer? Or maybe a Coke?” I ask.

He looks at Mrs. Hamilton. “I might enjoy a beer. What kinds do they have?”

I look at the bartender, who rattles off about six kinds of beers, pointing out the local and national brands.

“I’ll go with the Anchor Steam, since it’s local,” he says.

“Just water for me,” Mrs. Hamilton says.

The bartender shows her the alcohol and points out the wines to tempt her.

“Well… maybe just one glass of white wine,” Mrs. Hamilton acquiesces.

“Can you make that two please?” I say.

We collect our drinks and return to our seats, setting our plates and drinks on the small ledge in front of us.

It isn’t long before Axel arrives. He kisses my cheek and greets the Hamiltons. “I can’t wait for Jeremy to see you. He’s going to be thrilled.”

After the national anthem, the Prospectors take the field, and Jeremy does some warm-up throws. The box is loud as is the stadium, and I notice Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton holding hands and sitting forward in their seats. I figure Jeremy will slow-play his fastball the way he did at the Tarantulas game.

Like the last time Jeremy pitched, there’s a camera focused on the radar gun behind the plate, and the numbers are visible on the jumbotron.

Jeremy’s first pitch is his fastball, and it takes everyone—including the batter—by surprise. The umpire yells, “Strike.”

The pitch doesn’t break Jeremy’s current record, but at one hundred and ten miles an hour, it does break Nolan Ryan’s record here at home. The stadium erupts, and suddenly everyone in the box is watching the game.

Jeremy throws two more fastballs and though they’re straight down the middle, the batter doesn’t even come close to touching them. They’re just too fast.

And that sets the tone for the day. Jeremy does mix up his pitches as the game progresses, but through the first four innings, he allows no walks or hits, so no runners on base.

Turning to us, Mr. Hamilton looks like he has tears in his eyes. “This is so much better than watching it on TV.”

I nod enthusiastically, and Axel reaches around me to grasp his shoulder. “I agree.”

The game progresses quickly. The Prospectors finally are on the scoreboard by the end of the fifth inning.

When we reach the seventh-inning