When the inning ended, Griffin headed for the on-deck circle amid deafening applause, while Maya headed straight for the dugout, her face a whole new shade of pink, her finger wagging between Ellie and Regan.
“Don’t even,” she warned. “Just don’t.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ellie whispered. “Look at him! A hot, rich guy, Maya? You could do worse. You have done worse.”
Maya’s blue eyes lit up with the most evil glint Ellie had ever seen.
“Which is exactly why I’m not shutting Movie Man down right here and now.” With nothing more than an arch of her brow, she had both Ellie and Regan searching the stands for something or someone…
“Nice!” Regan laughed, high-fiving Maya. It took Ellie another second, but then she spotted them: Dickhead and his skank in lawn chairs next to the bleachers. She was bouncing on the edge of her chair; he was slumped back in his, a scowl etched across his forehead.
Karma, Ellie mused. She was getting her licks in again.
As he’d promised he would, Griffin hung around for a while after the game, until Regan had to send Nick and Carter in to help his people extract him from the crowd.
“Sorry, folks.” She had to stand on the bleachers to yell over the din. “But he has to get going. Work, work, work. We want to thank you all again for coming out today and for your generous donations to Newport Ridge General. And, of course, we couldn’t have done this without him, so please help me thank the always amazing Griffin Carr.”
Smiling brightly, Griffin lifted his borrowed glove in salute and bowed, but before leaving the field, he made a quick detour through the dugout, where Maya was gathering the equipment.
Once he’d been hustled into his car and driven away, the crowd dispersed fairly soon after. Volunteers weren’t keen to hang around if Griffin was gone, so it was left to their core group to clean up and pack everything away.
While Ellie, Maya, and Jayne gathered up the bags of empties, Regan sat in the dugout with Nick’s accountant, Martin, counting the donations they’d collected. When they were both satisfied they had the correct total, one that made Regan whistle, they sealed the cash in a Tyvek envelope for Martin to deposit; he would also deal with the paperwork part of reimbursements before the final donation was made.
Jayne wandered over near Ellie with a half-full bag of trash and a worried frown.
“Sorry,” she said. “Guess the guy didn’t show up after all.”
“What guy? Oh, right.” Ellie laughed, sort of a half-snort, half-snicker. “Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about that since we left Chalker’s, so it’s just as well.”
Jayne didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t say anything else, and when everything was done, the six of them set up their own little tailgate party at the back of Nick’s truck.
“Beer, Ellie?”
“Water for me,” she laughed. “The ink’s still wet on my brand-new license—don’t want to be giving those damn cops any other reason to snap it away, now, do I?”
“Why don’t y’all come over for dinner later?” Jayne asked. She didn’t wait for anyone to agree or disagree. “I’ll grab some steaks on the way home.”
And just like that, their sad little tailgate party was over and they each paired off to head home: Jayne and Nick, Regan and Carter, and Ellie and Maya.
“Pick you up in an hour,” Ellie said as Maya hopped out at her apartment.
“You drove to the game; I’ll drive us to Jayne’s.”
“No way. I’ve been three months without this baby,” Ellie laughed, smoothing her hand across the dashboard. “I need to make up the time.”
She wheeled the car into her driveway, grabbed her backpack, and headed for the door as late-Saturday-afternoon sounds floated around the neighborhood.
The McLarens’ beagle was barking its fool head off, Dickie out cutting his grass, Jackie’s twins squealing and splashing in their kiddie pool, and somewhere nearby a power saw whined for a few seconds, then whirred to a stop.
She had the key in the lock when she stopped. That power saw sounded awfully close…like…really close. As quietly as she could, she tugged her bat out of its Velcro strap on the side of her bag and headed around the side of her house to the backyard.
“What the—?”
Her pile of garden tools and hoses, usually heaped in the northeast corner, were now stacked in the old rickety wheelbarrow on the other side of her yard, and in their place now stood a half-built wooden shed. The