Wild Card by Ashley Munoz

 

Chapter One

Happiness isfree vodka served in a pretty glass. Ask anyone.

I tipped my head back, my eyes catching on the soft glow above our table from the twinkle lights. A little jolt of excitement flickered inside my chest like a rogue flame while I ran my finger around the rim of my free drink.

I was finally finished.

Done.

I’d written my final article of the year, and it was going to be featured in the showcase for the coveted Kline Global internship.

“Girl, you have worked so hard for this spot. I am so excited to see the look on Trevor’s face when he reads your story.” Jules, one of the copy editors in the class, sipped a pomegranate martini. Her silky black hair was tied up into a twist on her head, making her look so much more grown up than me. Even her drink made her look more mature.

“Don’t forget us when you get hired on for a paid position at Kline.” Lydia smiled over her glass and grabbed for the small basket of fries we’d ordered. My friend, who wore her hair shaved on one side and the rest flipped over in a stylish way, made me feel a little more relaxed. She had demanded we order something greasy, combatting Jules’ request for Brussels sprouts.

“Not possible.” I laughed into my glass. I could feel my face burn at the mere idea of being hired on at Kline Global. It wasn’t even that I might get the internship—hell, anyone at that table could get it—it was just that I had been working on this one story for the last six months. I’d skipped out on other massive story leads, forgoing parties and big senior events…all for this article. I had literally put all my eggs in one basket.

I had to get a spot. Only five articles were chosen from the class, and from those five, only one person would be given the internship. I just wanted the opportunity to be selected. They stopped taking submissions in March, but I didn’t have to worry about that. My article was sitting in my editor’s inbox, ready for the showcase.

The waiter who’d delivered my free drink passed by again, giving me a flirty wink. He was handsome in that boy-next-door kind of way. He had been making eyes at me all night, which was the most action I’d gotten in months, so I welcomed his advances. Why not? I was riding on a high from finishing my article and could have done with a date or two. I watched as he checked on two more tables then made his way closer to the rear of the restaurant.

Following him with my eyes, I observed him slide the door open to one of the private rooms in the back. I could see a few dozen guys, all wearing dark ball caps flipped backward, and they all seemed to be wearing a red and white practice jersey in some varying state of disarray.

My brows dipped in confusion as I tried to piece together why the Devils baseball team would be meeting in a public restaurant instead of their massive team house. Rumors circulated that they were very private about their meetings. One time Hillary even said she thought they were more of a secret society than an actual team, had this whole theory about how it was the perfect coverup. When I brought up the fact that the entire team had talent and it probably was just a team, she scoffed and told me I was too close-minded.

“Mallory, did you hear us?” Jules asked.

My head spun back toward my friends, all of them on one side of the table, giving me ample space to myself. For a second, I hated that I had issues, hated that I needed the barrier of the table between us or I might hyperventilate. Just once I wanted to go out with people I hadn’t known forever and have drinks. I wanted to go to a huge party or a concert and not feel like I might black out any second just because too many people were near me.

My friend’s brown eyes narrowed while flitting over my shoulder.

“Yeah, next weekend, right?” I played off my brief inattention and jumped right in. Once her face relaxed and she took a sip of her drink, I did the same. I tried to listen to their stories, but my mind kept drifting toward the room in the back. It must have been the journalist in me, but I wanted to know why they were there. It made no sense; they were all clearly in Devils practice gear, drinking, laughing, and joking. Maybe they were just out for a good time…but then, why be in a private room? Wouldn’t they want to try their hand at landing a date or a fuck buddy for the night? These were college guys we were talking about.

Jules talked about her plans to hit up a spa the next weekend and mentioned we all should go. I nodded along, running my finger around the rim of my glass. The rough texture from the sugar rubbed against my finger as I stared blankly at my friends. I wasn’t going to look over my shoulder again. I had decided I wouldn’t, but then…what if the waiter closed the door again and I missed my chance to get one last look?

I couldn’t risk it. Twisting my head, I eyed the open door, grateful it hadn’t been shut. We were close enough that I could somewhat hear what they were shouting about, but I couldn’t make out everything.

“The games start next week. I hope everyone remembers the rules—three of the bases have been assigned.”

Bases? Their season did start in about a week, but how would they divide the bases? Were they fixing the game?

“What about the last card?” someone yelled from the back of the room.

Card…now what the fuck was that about? I needed to get closer so I could hear better.

A second later, the cute waiter from before exited the room, carrying a tray of empty glasses. He twisted around and slid the door shut once again.

I snapped my head around, my face burning like I’d done something wrong. Why was I curious? It wasn’t like I had to write any more stories. I was done, completely finished; I didn’t need to be curious about the Devils. I smiled, returning my thoughts and mind to the conversation at hand as my friends planned more celebratory activities for us.

“Cheers, bitches. We did it!” We all raised our glasses, clinking them together joyously. I smiled and relished the glowing feeling that burned inside me.

I’d done it.

Tears nearly fell as I considered how proud my mom would have been that I’d achieved this step, small as it was. But steps led places, no matter how big or small they were, and this one felt monumental. I couldn’t wait to see that email pop into my inbox, notifying me that I’d been chosen.

Now, it was just a matter of time.