I watched him lower his well-muscled bulk into a chair opposite me. He was an attractive man, and he had a glowing smile on the rare occasions that he looked happy. I said, “I don’t want to sound impatient, but what is this opportunity?”
After sipping his coffee, he said, “I took a call from my counterpart in Philadelphia just a few days ago. He is in the process of working with his coaching staff to rebuild the team. One move that he made was the firing of his batting coach.
“Oh, I did hear about that. I must say that it made sense. The team was second from the bottom in batting average last season. I think the coaches take the brunt of the blame for a season like that.”
Huggins nodded in agreement. “He went on to ask me if I had any suggestions for a replacement.”
My eyes opened wider. I suddenly knew what Meyer Huggins was implying. He called me into the office to suggest that I move on from the Yellowjackets. Chase’s smiling face flashed before my eyes, and a shiver ran up my spine.
Huggins said, “I put in a good word for you, Beck. Don’t worry. I ignored any issues and only made positive comments.”
I asked, “Issues?” He was already climbing to his feet again.
“I won’t detain you any longer. I would expect batting practice might already be starting. I just wanted to share the news, so you aren’t blindsided. It’s not a good thing to be shocked by disruptive news.”
My knees felt weak when I stood, but I did my best to hide my response from Huggins. I shook his hand and said, “Thank you, Sir. I’ll make sure the front office knows if I have any important news to share.”
Chase was upbeat when we met on the field for batting practice. I couldn’t bring myself to share the news from Meyer Huggins. On the one hand, I got a severe lump in my throat when I thought of the possibility of leaving Charlotte without Chase. On the other hand, I knew that it could be the break we needed to be open about our relationship.
As Chase stood at the plate during practice with the bat on his shoulder, he glanced at me and said, “I’m going to pull a little Babe Ruth.”
“Babe Ruth?”
Chase pointed to the right-field stands. “The next ball is going there!”
His confidence was riding high. He was accurate, too. The next pitch landed ten rows back in the right-field seats. Eckert grumbled, “Concentration. This is baseball, not a…g…” His voice trailed off.
I grabbed Eckert’s shoulder and said, “What’s wrong, Ben? Did you forget that it’s a game? It might be serious, but baseball is always a game.”
Eckert growled and pulled his shoulder out from under my hand. He mumbled, “Are you nearly finished O’Rourke? I think it’s time to turn it over to one of your teammates.”
It was another excellent game for Chase. He was still toying with a .400 batting average, and we were all bracing for the announcement of the All-Star game lineups less than a week away. As we left the stadium, I said, “I’m sorry. I’m exhausted tonight.”
“Tomorrow night then?” asked Chase.
I smiled and said, “Tomorrow night. You can come to the hotel, and we’ll shut the rest of the world out. Maybe we can go to breakfast at that upscale cafe you’ve wanted to try.”
“Where I have to sign my autographs with my pinkie held up high?”
I gave him a quick hug, but I turned my head when he tried for a kiss. I didn’t want to provide a show for someone who might be lurking in the shadows. I said, “I’ll give you a call later tonight.”
Chase grinned at me. He said, “Maybe it can be a really long conversation, and it can have a happy ending.”
His smile was wicked, and I felt myself stiffen in my jeans when he mentioned the happy ending. I thought about the comments from Meyer Huggins again, and I couldn’t imagine a baseball season without Chase at my side.
13
Chase
It was already a miserable morning. I kept replaying Aaron’s comment on the phone in my head. “Maybe accepting the job in Philadelphia would be the best thing for us. We wouldn’t need to hide anymore.” It was impossible to end the call happily after he said that.
He was right, and that’s what I hated so much about it. It wouldn’t be an easy thing to be open about our relationship and come out to the team brass, the league officials, players, and, most of all, the fans, but if we worked for different teams, the revelation wouldn’t be likely to endanger our positions in baseball. I tried to think about playing a season while only getting to see Aaron when our teams played each other. Every time the idea came to mind, I buried my face in my pillow and slammed a fist against the mattress.
I woke up with the sour taste of my own words in my mouth. The batting coach position in Philadelphia would be a promotion for Aaron, and I never offered a word of congratulations. Instead, I was selfish and said, “That sucks!”
Rolling over, I buried my face in the pillow once more and reared back to slam my fist into the mattress again. I winced when I felt a twinge in my shoulder before my fist connected with the fabric. I tumbled over onto my back and reached up for the joint. Sharp pain like the thrust of a tiny knife shot through the shoulder.
“Holy shit!” I growled at the world in general. After lying in bed rubbing my shoulder for another fifteen minutes wracked with fear of what I might feel when I tried to get out of bed, I slid a leg to the edge of the mattress and decided to face the day.
It didn’t hurt as badly as I feared. I spoke to myself in the bathroom mirror and said, “I pulled a small muscle. Get a grip, Chase. You’ll be okay. You’re an adult now.”
I held onto my shoulder and rotated my arm in a circle. Then I pulled both hands back like I was holding a phantom bat and swung. I winced again, but the pain was bearable.
In the shower I let the hot water run over the joint for ten minutes, and when I dressed for the day, the shoulder felt nearly normal. I decided to ignore the minor injury and Aaron’s comments. Instead, I decided to focus on my primary goal for the day. I needed to do some investigative work with Mo.
Mo Sadler was nearly four inches taller than me. He was tall enough to be a successful point guard in the NBA. I tried to imagine him dribbling up and down the court with his long face. I chuckled to myself when I couldn’t imagine him moving faster than a slow, steady jog.
I invited him for lunch at the end of the game the day before. He had a quizzical expression on his face as he asked, “Me? Why do you want to go to lunch with me? You’ve got those three musketeers to ask.”
He looked nervous, and I tried to calm him down. “C’mon, Moose, go to lunch with me. I’ll even buy. Maybe I want to make more friends.”
I don’t know how the idea of a nickname for Mo came to my mind, but Moose sounded appropriate.
Mo said, “Okay, sure thing. Let’s have Italian, and I’ll text you about it tomorrow.” He walked toward the locker room shaking his head and mouthing the word, “Moose.”
After the server delivered a massive mound of spaghetti and meatballs and set it in front of Mo, I smiled and said, “I have to admit that I did have an ulterior movie for getting together.”
Mo ignored the comment and started to sprinkle parmesan cheese over his pasta. He asked, “Where’s your food?”
“I guess they had to make the ravioli from scratch. I hope I don’t get half as much food as you. Can you really devour that whole plate?”
He grinned. “Easy. I used to eat two plates like this when I was your age.”
I sipped my glass of wine. It was early in the day to drink, but I promised myself I would stop at one glass. None of the coaching staff would appreciate a player showing up at the stadium with the smell of alcohol on his breath. I asked, “So where did you find out about us, Mo? Was it Eric? Is he the leaky one?”
Mo furrowed his brow. “Find out about who?” He stared at me, twirled spaghetti on his fork, said, “I’m sorry. I have to start eating. I’m starving. I hope yours comes soon.”
Before I could clarify my question
, the server set a plate of ravioli in front of me. It smelled delicious. The chef smothered it in a cream sauce, and my stomach rumbled as I inhaled the luscious aroma.
I said, “You know. When did you find out about Aaron and me.”
Mo still looked confused. He said, “Nobody had to tell me that you’re buddies. That’s blatantly obvious. You’re always going out to bars with Hinsdale and Gonzalez. Are you buying me lunch to ask me this?”
Mo chewed, and he stared at me. I grimaced. I suddenly felt the pain in my shoulder again. Then I saw the lightbulb go on in Mo’s head. He finally understood, but I instantly knew Eric didn’t leak the information. I’d just told Mo myself.
He leaned across the table and whispered, “You mean the two of you are…” His voice trailed off. “You two guys are…” His voice trailed off again. “Damn, no, I didn’t know. Should I say congratulations?”
I snapped, “You should keep your big trap shut is what you should do.” I reached over to my shoulder and held onto it while I shrugged to try and make the pain go away.
Mo whispered again. “Aw, man, you don’t need to get pissed at me. I won’t say anything to anyone. My word is good. I see it now. The two of you are great together.”
I sighed and raised my fork to take a bite of the ravioli. The pain sliced into my shoulder again. I cringed and dropped my fork. With the awareness that we were professional athletes in a public restaurant, I held my tongue and stopped myself from spouting profanities. Instead, I said, “I’m sorry, Mo. Something’s up with my shoulder, and it puts me in a foul mood.”
“And having to be secret about…you know…too? That’s rough.” I was a little surprised at how accepting he was of Aaron and me. It was almost like he thought it was a normal thing.
I gripped the wine glass with my left hand and sipped. I hoped the alcohol’s sedative powers would race to my brain quickly and dull the pain, but I knew it was mostly wishful thinking.
“Have you seen the trainer about that shoulder?” asked Mo.
I gingerly tried picking the fork up again. The pain failed to stab its way into my joint. I sliced into one of the ravioli and said, “It happened this morning. It’s some freak thing. I moved my arm the wrong way. I’m sure it’s no more severe than a pulled muscle.”
When the bite of ravioli made it to my mouth, it was as delicious as I expected. The pleasurable flavor helped my body relax, and I closed my eyes. I heard a rustling sound across the table and opened my eyes again.
Mo held out his hand and said, “Here, you’re going to need this more than me.”
“What is it, Moose?”
He opened his hand, and I saw the subject of many rumors on the team. It was an ancient rabbit’s foot. Segments of bone were visible where continual handling rubbed the fur away long ago. I whispered, “You do have a rabbit’s foot.”
“Yeah, it’s been in my family for at least eighty years. Keep it with you. Good luck is guaranteed. Go on, take it.”
I held out my hand. “Damn, I do appreciate it.”
He dumped the rabbit’s foot into my hand. I closed my fingers around it and pulled my hand back pushing the good luck charm into my pocket.
Mo said, “Don’t lose it. I might yank it back if my luck starts to go south. I’m having a good season, and I want it to keep going. There are rumors I could make the All-Star squad this year. I’ve only done that once before.”
I asked, “Can you do one other thing for me?”
Mo sucked a huge bite of the spaghetti into his gaping mouth. I waited for him to chew and swallow before he said, “It depends on what it is. The rabbit’s foot is something major. You wait and see.”
“It’s about the stuff with Aaron. Please keep quiet about that. Pretend like you never heard anything. It’s nobody’s business but our own, and we’ll handle it ourselves. Can you promise that, Moose?”
“Oh, you’ve got no problem from me on that. If I ever decide to write a book in my old age, I’ve got secrets in my brain about so many coaches and players. We talk with each other in baseball. You wouldn’t believe what I could tell, but I won’t. I gave my word in every conversation, and I keep my promises.”
14
Aaron
Chase moved tentatively as I slowly unbuttoned his jersey. He’d never been hesitant in the least when it came to making love. I kissed him again, and he slowly raised his hands to my chest. He moved like an old man with arthritis. I asked, “What’s up? Your swings in the game weren’t what we usually see, and now…”
He shrugged and said, “I guess I’m still reeling about the Philadelphia job.” He traced the name Yellowjackets across my jersey with a fingertip. The movement was slow, and he left out the flourishes that usually accompanied his feverish engagement with my uniform.
I suggested, “Let’s get undressed and sit on the bed. Maybe we can talk about this. I want you inside me tonight, and I want you to enjoy it. We need to get rid of the distractions for that to happen.”
Chase nodded, and he painstakingly completed the unbuttoning of his jersey. He whispered, “Distraction…I think that’s the same word Huggins used. Can we drop that word from the vocabulary for now?”
I slipped my jersey off and removed my shoes. I said, “I know it’s hard, but I hate having to hide from the world. You’re the best thing in my life, and I want everyone to know.”
I heard a moan that sounded like pain instead of pleasure. Looking down at Chase, I saw him slowly pushing his pants down. In a dull tone of voice, he said, “But I want to be IN your life, too.”
“You will be. You’ll always be in my life. What are you thinking about?” I watched him sit on the bed and prepare to pull down his boxer briefs. I was already naked and stepped up beside him leaning down to kiss the top of his head.
“For four months of the year. That’s one-third of the year. We can only be full-time lovers for one-third of the year.”
As soon as Chase was naked, I sat beside him. I whispered, “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful both inside and out.” I reached out and touched my hand to his bare chest teasing a nipple with a fingertip.
Chase pushed down with both hands on the bed and scooted himself toward the head. I saw a slight wince again, and he lay his head heavily on the pillow.
I slid up to his side and reached a hand out to his cheek. “Something’s up. You’re hurt, and I see it. What’s going on? Don’t hide it from me.”
He stared back at me with his dark brown eyes. “It’s been a bad day. Maybe tonight will be better. I pulled something in my shoulder, and I can’t stop thinking about losing you. I think we’ll have to be gentle tonight.”
“Will you let me take the lead for a change?”
“I don’t think I have a choice. You’re in charge, Coach.”
I kissed him gently. Chase parted his lips, and he moaned softly when our tongues touched. I began to let my fingers roam over his muscular body. “You’re tense. I think the pain must be worse than you’re letting on.”
“It’s not so bad. I’ll talk to the trainer tomorrow if it’s not any better. Will you talk to Huggins?”
I trailed my kisses down the side of his neck. “What do you want me to tell him.”
“Tell him to go away. I want them all to go away.”
I chuckled softly as I licked at Chase’s collarbone. “We need our own little island. Just you, me, the beach, the sunshine…”
“And coconuts…lots of coconuts.” Chase closed his eyes, and he moaned again when my hand found its way to his cock.
“Bananas, too?” I asked as I very slowly stroked his cock. He was rock hard and the veins pulsed against my grip.
“Mmm, that feels so good. Yeah, bananas.” His eyes were still closed, and I continued the trail of kisses down the sculpted valley between his pecs. I knew Chase’s body well already, but I felt like I was exploring it in a new way. I was taking the journey slower than ever before, and Chase responded to every touch with a light moan or a ragge
d breath.
I whispered, “I love you, Chase.” Then I kissed my way down the light, wispy trail in the center of his abs.
“Mmm, I love you. Take me to the island, Coach.”
It was the first time we each said, “I love you,” and it rolled off our tongues so easily. I smiled.
I started to tell him stories about our lives together on a deserted island. While I kissed him where his thighs met his pelvis, I said, “I see you like a God on the beach spearing fish for our dinner.”
He whispered, “Only like a God?”
I laughed and nibbled at the base of his cock. “Excuse me. I see Chase, the God of baseball, spearing fish for our dinner.”
“Better.” He squirmed when my tongue touched the throbbing head of his cock. His fingers tangled in my hair. “Don’t stop the story.”
“It’s hard to talk with my mouth full.”
Chase giggled. I’d rarely heard him giggle, but it was a sweet sound when it happened. It wasn’t like a schoolgirl. The tone was much too deep for that, but it was a giggle.
I parted my lips and ever so slowly swirled my tongue around his sensitive head. His fingers continued to rake through my hair, but he didn’t grip. He wanted me to take it slow and gentle.
I pulled back from the head and whispered, “And one day that God met a shipwrecked sailor. He was blown slightly off course and washed up unconscious on the beach.”
Chase whispered, “I bet he was a handsome fucker.”
“Almost as handsome as the God of baseball.” I stopped talking and swallowed Chase’s cock further into my mouth. I sucked my cheeks in to increase the friction and started to bob my head back and forth.
Chase muttered, “Oh, fuck,” and then he added his twist to the story. “The sailor was naked, too. Somehow the wreckage of the ship or maybe an unfriendly octopus ripped the clothes from his body as he floated to shore.”
I pulled back from the cock, and it made an audible pop when his head left my mouth. I said, “Poor sailor,” and stared up at Chase’s handsome, relaxed face.
A Brand New Ballgame Page 9