They Have Eyes, Part VI (2052.02)

[woods]

< Part V

Jenn Sosinski frowned into her iPhone’s front-facing camera and tousled her hair. She didn’t remember ever putting in this much effort to look younger. In her professional life, it was usually the opposite: dressing up to appear older, more mature, in order to be taken seriously by the largely male-dominated sports industry.

But here she was, headed into a job interview, maybe the most important of her career so far, and she needed to appear as young as possible.

She squinted into her phone. She supposed she could pass for early 20s, as long as you didn’t look too closely at the lines under her eyes. Fortunately, as an ex-cheerleader, she knew some tricks of the trade. Just stick her tits out far enough, and she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone looking at her eyes.

Stashing her phone away, she took a deep breath and nearly choked on the outside air. The area was a former swamp, and while workers had tried over the years to drain the wetlands and make it a hospitable place, it still tasted musty, as if someone had cooked coyote into a stew, then left it out to rot for a period of several years. Though, she realized, that could just be the concessions from the ballpark.

She looked up to read a giant sign that hung over the entrance: Welcome to The Basilica at Muskrat Slough.

A smaller sign under it directed her to where she needed to go: the employee’s entrance, located on the left side, away from the main gate, presumably so ballpark employees could go to work without getting tangled up in the game day crowds. Though that wasn’t a concern now, because it was January, so the place was practically a ghost town.

She went inside, and followed signs to get to the waiting area for her appointment. Along the way, she noticed a lot of strange artwork on the walls, portrayals of a man with an overgrown mustache in various poses. It appeared this organization had some sort of unhealthy obsession with the guy.

Upon reaching her destination, she saw a couple nervous twenty-somethings waiting. They glanced at her. She put on her headphones so she didn’t have to talk to any of them.

Soon, a man with bleach-blond hair whose fashion sense was stuck in the ‘20s emerged from an office. “Sosinski?” he read from a tablet.

He led her down a hallway and into his office. “I’m the Manager of Fun Operations here at the Basilica,” he said. “You can call me Ash. Please, have a seat.”

Jenn obliged.

“So tell me why you’re interested in joining us as a field ambassador for the upcoming season,” Ash continued.

“I saw-“ Jenn started, then corrected her tone of voice to sound peppier. “I saw the job ad posted online, and, um, I’m finishing my undergrad next year? And the extra income would help me start to pay down my student loans?” She felt it made her sound younger to end every sentence as if it were a question.

“That’s super cool,” Ash replied. “So are you, like, a Popes fan? Follow baseball at all?”

“Lifelong fan! I was heartbroken when we lost in the playoffs last year, but we gotta get up and stay positive. ’52 is our year!” She paused, thinking of something to say to sound more authentic. “Uh, Praise be to Camacho?” she added, reciting a phrase she had seen plastered all over the walls outside.

“Praise be to Camacho,” Ash repeated, almost robotically. He smiled, convinced that she was one of their own.

The interview continued with Ash quizzing Jenn on some facts about the team, which thankfully she could draw her from wealth of baseball knowledge to answer correctly. She rattled off the names of many Mad Popes’ players, past and present, without missing a single one. Ploid. Mangrouthormone. Kouros. Even some real deep cuts like Cheng-ho 'Chicken' Ji. She probably should’ve gotten a few wrong on purpose, but she couldn’t help but show off.

Ash was blown away. “Well, I think you’ve shown that you’d be a great fit for the Popes Fam. That’s what we call the ambassadors, I don’t know if I mentioned that. You know, ‘cause we’re like a family.”

“That’s cool,” Jenn said, while thinking the opposite.

“Anyway, we’d be, like, hella honored if you’d join us. You’ll start with handling on-field entertainment, but if you do a good job, we can move you up to T-shirt cannon duty. That’s the most coveted job of all, and frankly, Chad has kinda been phoning it in lately. Here’s the job contract,” he said, handing over a stack of paperwork.

“So, I get full access to the field?” Jenn asked as she began signing.

“Of course,” Ash replied. “We’ll give you a key card that’ll get you past security. You’ll need to be here two hours before game time to get ready. The Muskrat Race in the top of the third is more prep than you’d think, working with live animals and all. You’ll also need to stay an hour after the game to tend the field.”

Jenn nodded and smiled. “And I can be on the field after the game? Does that include center field?”

Ash looked at her quizzically.

“It’s just, I’ve always wanted to see what it feels like to run around out there. Center field in particular just looks so soft and springy.”

“Oh, sure. Field access is unlimited — you’re part of the fam now. Just, you know, remember to replace your divots.” He winked at her, but Jenn couldn’t help but feel like he was also staring into her soul.

She shook it off by forcing a laugh and handing back the signed contract. “Of course. Well, see you for the season, then. Go Popes.”

- - - - -
Jenn walked briskly through the parking lot on the way back to her car, feeling accomplished and eager to begin the next phase of her plan. She took out her iPhone, looked up a local hardware store and called.

“Hi, are you open today? Do you have shovels? I need a big one.”

[datom25]

Things are escalating. Quickly.

[Jwalk100]

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