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scope out the wife and children of the competition and make sure everyone knows that my dad is the highest paid player on the team, and they plan on keeping it that way.”
    “Wow.” I shake my head. “Keep your enemies close…”
    Lenny’s eyes widen, and she rests a hand firmly on my arm. “Not me, Annie. Seriously. I don’t play their games.”
    “Except to get out of dinner parties.”
    She shrugs. “If I didn’t want to hang out with you, I wouldn’t. I’ve blown off more than a few Royals’ kids.”
    There is no question that she’s telling the truth. Lenny London is going to be an enigma to figure out, but at the same time, she seems to be exactly as she says.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” a deep voice growls from behind me.
    I spin around and come face-to-face with Jason Brody. And yeah, I panic for a second thinking about how he saw me in my pleated skirt earlier today. As in my high school uniform. Then there’s that whole threat to tell my dad so I get sent to therapy lingering from a few days ago. But then I lift the beer bottle to my lips and take a sip, trying my best not to make a face. “Hey, Brody. Great music, huh?”
    He glares so hard at me I’m sure his forehead is gonna stay permanently wrinkled. “What the hell are you doing?” He snatches the bottle from my hands and slides it across the table until it taps the wall.
    A tall brunette with a twenty-inch waist approaches him from behind and rests a hand on his shoulder. I take a second to glance at Lenny, who rests a hand on her hip and says to the girl, “I think you left your panties by my pool the other night. Right beside loverboy’s boxer briefs. I’ve collected them both for safekeeping. In case you were wondering.”
    A bewildered look crosses the girl’s face and then Lenny fakes shock, covering her mouth with one hand. “Oh. Maybe that wasn’t you. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure that girl was a redhead, but it’s hard to tell in the dark, especially with all the flailing around.”
    The girl gives Lenny a tight-lipped smile, spins in a half circle, and walks away. Brody drops his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand. “Nice. Real nice, Lenny.”
    My gaze bounces between the two of them. I don’t know whether to laugh or be disgusted. Brody lifts his head and I look right at him, holding his gaze. “Go easy on him, Lenny. He’s just taking advantage of his major league status while it lasts. Can you blame him?”
    Brody cocks one eyebrow, challenge dancing all over his features. “While it lasts? Let’s get one thing straight—”
    He stops cold when all three of us take in the older man approaching our table. A man I met only briefly when we toured the stadium the other day. Johnson. The new Royals’ owner. Brody swears under his breath. Johnson’s walking toward us with such purpose that I know he recognizes us. Or hopefully he only recognizes Brody. I mean the guy probably meets kids of Royals’ staff all the time. How likely is it that he memorizes faces?
    He stops abruptly in front of us, adjusting his tie. If I hadn’t just noticed the suit-wearing clan at the table he emerged from, I’d say his attire was out of place here. I glance at Lenny, who looks cool as a cucumber, but she does set down her beer bottle.
    Johnson addresses Lenny first, eyes narrowed. “I take it you were being hospitable, giving our substitute relief pitcher a sample of the town’s best barbecue.”
    It’s obviously not a question. And if I know this, Lenny definitely does. The cheek-numbing fake smile spreads across her face. “How’d you know?”
    And substitute relief pitcher? That’s a bit redundant. Relief already indicates substitution.
    “Lucky guess,” Johnson says, returning the fake smile. “How about you go and get that car warmed up.”
    I start to follow Lenny out, thinking that maybe I got away with not being recognized or assumed to be one of Lenny London’s