Slow Pitch

by Amy Lane

  “You want to see a movie with us?” he asked Nina, and she shook her head.

  “Naw. I’ve got work to do. But thanks, Ten. Again, it was sweet of you to ask.”

  And like the invitation had been all she needed to let go, she went back into the house, and Tenner took Piper to her weekend home.

  “SO WHAT’S this movie about?” Piper asked, settling down with her extra-large popcorn the next day.

  “I think there’s cats and dogs in it,” he said. Truth was, it had looked pretty terrible. He usually went for animated features from Disney or Pixar or Sony—he loved a good animated feature as much as the next repressed twelve-year-old boy. But this one had realistic talking animals, and while Piper adored them, Tenner was not a fan.

  “Yay! Want some popcorn, Daddy?”

  It would probably make him sick and fat. “No, thank you, sweetheart. I’ll stick with my giant soda, thank you.”

  Piper kept her eyes glued to the preshow show on the screen—the one they put on before the lights went down, and Tenner felt his pocket buzz. He pulled out his phone and saw Ross’s name scroll across the top.

  What’s doing?

  Watching a terrible movie in five. You?

  Helping my nephew build a kite. His old one disintegrated.

  By accident? Tenner was pretty sure that could not possibly be true.

  It wasn’t my fault, I swear!

  At that moment the movie lights went down, and Tenner had barely enough time to type I don’t believe you! before he signed off.

  “Movie’s starting, Daddy.”

  He put the phone in his pocket and as the absolutely horrible talking animal vehicle began to roll, it started to buzz in his pocket practically nonstop, Ross’s name flashing across his watch with every text.

  Tenner covered his wrist and double-checked to make sure it was just foolishness and not something important, and for the rest of the movie, at least every ten minutes, his pocket would buzz and his watch would flash.

  He didn’t return any of the texts, of course, but in a weird sort of way, it was like Ross had been there.

  “YOU ASSHOLE!” he hissed at Ross when he showed up for practice the next day.

  “What?” Ross held his hands to his chest and had the gall to look offended. “What could I have possibly done?”

  “Does yesterday’s movie ring a bell?” he asked, wanting to throw a mitt at that smug leonine head.

  “Mm….” Ross pretended to think. “No, no, it doesn’t. Does it ring a bell for you?”

  “No!” Tenner threw up his hands. “No, it doesn’t! And do you know why?”

  “Because you fell asleep and snored in Piper’s ear?” Ross asked sweetly.

  “Because some lunatic was texting me every thirty seconds and I couldn’t concentrate on the movie!”

  “It was literally called Cats Drool, Dogs Rule, Tenner. How much was there to concentrate on, really?”

  Tenner just shook his head. “No, seriously, there was no way for that to get any worse.”

  “So you should be thanking me, then?”

  Tenner rolled his eyes. “I’m not going that far.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I said I’m not going that—”

  He saw it then. Saw Ross’s abortive movement to reach out and touch his hip, probably to pull him close enough to kiss. Ross’s hand froze, and they both took a quick look around, but it didn’t appear anybody else noticed. Piper was busy throwing her little ball back and forth with Hanford, and the other players were warming up the same way.

  “Shit,” Ross murmured.

  “I’m sorry,” Tenner said reflexively. Then, because he’d been planning to tell Ross this after Piper went to bed anyway, he continued, “Nina is… well, she’s softening. My parents are coming to dinner next week, so no practice next Sunday, but let’s see how that goes. If it doesn’t suck too badly, maybe she’ll… I don’t know… be okay when I tell her we’re dating.”

  Ross’s smile was lopsided, but it was still a smile. “When?” he said.

  “Yeah,” Tenner murmured. “When.” He looked at Ross’s hand as it sat by his side, flexing. “That would have been a good kiss.”

  “Always,” Ross said, and without another word, they both grabbed their mitts and went out to the field.

  It was time for serious game.

  Their date that week was awesome. Amazing. Life changing.

  And normal.

  Nothing to see here, folks, two guys getting home from work, fixing dinner—Ross went shopping this time—and then watching some TV before going to bed.

  Just two guys, skin to skin, breaths harsh in the darkness, touches tender, playful, arousing.

  Two guys coming, in hands, mouths, asses—Ross coming in Tenner’s ass, because Tenner hadn’t yet had a brain in his head to top when the time came, and Ross was damned good at it—and coming and coming because to stop coming would mean the touch was at an end.

  Two guys who were in it for a fling, for Ross’s version of a summer romance, for Tenner’s first relationship since a bad divorce.

  Two guys who would die for one more kiss.

  Two guys… who were irrevocably falling in love.

  TENNER SHOWED up at Nina’s with Piper in tow. He’d asked Nina for a dress for after practice, and Nina’s eyes had grown bright and shiny. Piper loved her tomboy clothes, Nina knew that, but they both knew his parents wanted to see her in something lacy and girlie, and Piper didn’t mind those either.

  That Tenner had remembered was important.

  As they got out of the car, Tenner grabbing Piper’s bag because she was excited to see Grandma and Grandpa again and forgot, his pocket buzzed.

  He pulled out his phone as he walked, and saw a picture of the practice he’d left early. Ross had, apparently, ordered pizza, and all his guys were digging in.

  Should I bring you some later?

  Tenner grimaced at his parents’ rental car as it sat in the driveway. Yeah. I’ll text you when this is over.

  Good deal.

  And then he put the phone away and summoned his best plastic smile.

  “Grandma!” Piper squealed, running in for a hug. Tenner’s mother—a severe woman with gray hair scraped back into a ponytail—hadn’t been particularly warm when Tenner had been a child. Something about having a grandchild, though, had made her soften. Her smile and hug had all the hallmarks of the things Tenner had missed when he’d been a kid, and he was glad that, if nothing else, his daughter didn’t have to know about chilly voids and disapproving scowls in the same way he had.

  Tenner walked up quietly behind his daughter and waited to be let into the house.

  His mother sobered when she saw him, her face drawing into lines of lemon-eating disapproval. “Tenner.”

  “Edith,” Tenner said dryly. He hadn’t been able to call her Mom since he’d told them about the divorce and was told, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t their son anymore.

  “Be respectful,” his father said behind her.

  “I am being respectful, Timothy,” Tenner replied, meeting his father’s eyes. “You said I wasn’t your son, so I’m addressing you as fellow adults.”

  “Tim.” Tenner’s mother put her hand on his father’s shoulder and looked at him pleadingly, and then looked at Piper.

  Timothy Gibson swallowed whatever he was going to say and glared at Tenner, but he stepped back into Nina’s house and gestured for Tenner to come in.

  “Grandma!” Piper said a little desperately. “Did you see what Mommy got me? It’s a baseball glove! I practice baseball with Daddy and his team!”

  Timothy Gibson gave Piper a fond look. “You don’t really play with the team, sweetpea. They’re just having fun with you, is all.”

  Nina entered from the kitchen at that moment, her face flushed and her eyes way too bright, and her glare at Tenner’s father was fierce.

  “She practices with the team,” Tenner said before his daughter’s lower
lip could start quivering. “They all take turns with her, helping her throw, helping her hit. Hanford brings his sister’s kids—”

  “Who’s Hanford?” his mother asked sharply.

  “Co-captain,” Tenner responded, a little startled. “Ross brought his nephew today.”

  “Who’s Ross?” she asked with the same tone.

  And Tenner got it. “Piper honey, why don’t you go put your backpack and toys away and go help your mom with dinner, okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy.” She beamed at him and then went in for a surprise hug. “I don’t care how I get to play, you know,” she said, her voice a little wobbly. “Tell them not to be mean to you.”

  He bent down and kissed the crown of her neat double plait. “I definitely will. Now shoo.” They’d left softball a half an hour early so he could get her hair done specifically that way, because she wanted to make Grandma and Grandpa happy.

  She trotted off, Nina at her heels. Nina threw him a beleaguered look of compassion over her shoulder, and he understood immediately. She’d love to help, but she needed to get Piper out of the room before the fireworks began.

  “You two,” he said pleasantly, “need to just stop. I’m gay. I’m not banging my entire men’s softball team. Most of them have wives, a few of them have boyfriends, and all the single ones are probably not interested.” He conveniently left Ross out of it because Ross was not the point here. “Piper loves you right now. You show up with toys and hugs and desert, and that’s great. But Nina and I take care of her from day to day, and if you keep crapping on me, or start in on Nina, you are going to make that little girl hate you. And that would be a shame.”

  They both recoiled from him like he was a snake, but he didn’t care.

  Nine years ago, when he’d been a dumb, confused kid, he’d given up who he was for what they wanted him to be. Piper had been the result—and he’d do it again, for her—but he and Nina had been collateral damage, and that wasn’t fucking fair.

  “You have no right to talk to us in—”

  “In Nina’s house? I think I do. What have you been saying to her, M—Edith? She looked like she was ready to cry.”

  “Your mother was trying to make a point,” Timothy growled. “The way you two are raising that little girl isn’t right. Splitting her between two houses, you off doing God knows what in front of your little girl while that woman works herself to death as a single mother.”

  “Fifty-fifty, Tim. We split custody fifty-fifty, and we both have jobs. Do you think I hire a maid to do her hair?”

  “Everybody knows you people have no problem doing hair,” Edith said, trying to be conciliatory.

  Tenner’s eyes widened, and he ignored her because… God. Because.

  “Piper’s doing great. Her teachers have said so, she has friends over—Nina and I live less than two miles away from each other for exactly that reason.”

  “Oh, you’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you!” Tim barked.

  “As far as our daughter is concerned, we both do!” Tenner snapped back. “What is this about?”

  “We just think,” Edith murmured, “you know. Neither of you are looking to get married again, and if you’re not going to get back together, we just think it’s best that Piper be in a stable household.”

  For a moment, Tenner’s brain blanked. Completely fuzzed out. All he saw was white static and all he heard was a roaring in his ears. His temper hair-triggered, and he was about to open his mouth and roar when he remembered he was in his ex-wife’s house.

  He took a deep breath and held up a finger. “Excuse me.”

  And with that he walked back to Piper’s room, where Piper was emptying her backpack and explaining what they’d done that weekend. “Honey, I need to talk to your mother for a minute. Nina?”

  Nina turned red-rimmed eyes toward him and bit her lip. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “They ambushed me with it, Ten. I swear, I would have managed to be out of town if I’d known.”

  “Not your fault,” he murmured. Piper was still unloading her things, and he leaned in for Nina’s ears only. “How about you tell Piper that you, me, and her are going out for dinner. Then get her out to the car, okay?”

  “I’ve got stuff in the oven,” she protested.

  “Mind if I turn it off?”

  “Not at all.” She smiled tightly. “Tenner, I feel like crap. The things they’ve been saying about you—”

  He twisted his mouth. “You knew they were like that.”

  “Yeah.” She let out a big breath. “But for the first time it hit me, why you might want to try to be… be what they wanted. Instead of who you are.”

  His own eyes burned. “I keep telling you—”

  “It wasn’t to hurt me.” She let out a short laugh. “You know me when I’m mad, Ten. I don’t listen to reason.”

  “And when you’re hurt, it lasts a really long time,” he murmured, remembering the one time he’d tried to break up with her when they’d been dating.

  She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Me and Piper’ll take off. Meet at the usual?”

  “The usual” was a chain restaurant they’d eaten at every Friday night for Piper’s first four years. It had been a break from cooking, for both of them, and a chance to go out as a family. It wasn’t fancy, wasn’t perfect, but it held good memories for the three of them. They’d gone there for Piper’s birthday since the divorce, and maybe it would make the disappointment of what Tenner was about to do easier for Piper to bear.

  “See you there,” he said. “I’ll lock up.”

  He turned back toward the living room and stalked right past his parents and into the kitchen. “In here,” he muttered, making sure they both followed him. Aw, damn. Nina had made her chicken bake recipe in an attempt to make nice with his parents, and he sort of liked that one. He made a big production out of checking it to make sure it was done, and it was, which was good because she and Piper could have leftovers for the next week. Then he took it out of the oven and clicked the dial to Off before turning around and looking his parents in the eyes.

  “No,” he said pleasantly. “Timothy, Edith, no. You’re not getting custody of our daughter. There’s no judge in California who would allow it. It’s ridiculous.”

  “But you—” his father began.

  Tenner held up his hands. “It’s not illegal to be gay. It’s not illegal to be divorced. And it’s not illegal to be gay, divorced, and a parent. The world is all sorts of complicated these days—you should turn on a TV sometime. And you know what? Even if I was the scum of the earth you want me to be—”

  “We never said that!” his mother protested, but Tenner wasn’t going that way either.

  “Even if I was, Nina is a good mom. Our custody agreement is between the both of us. Whatever we do to it, that’s us. It has nothing to do with your disapproval of me, or your prejudice, or whatever is driving you. You disowned me, remember? Nina asks you here literally out of the goodness of her fucking heart, and you bring this bullshit into her house?”

  “You don’t even like women!” His father looked legitimately baffled. “How can you defend her? She’d rather go off and be Ms. Bigshot than take care of her own kid—”

  “I don’t like them to sleep with!” Tenner crossed his eyes, because laughter was all he had at this point. “That doesn’t mean I hate women as a rule.”

  “Don’t be crude, son.”

  “I’m not your son, Tim. Not anymore. Nina’s a good mother, and she’s good at her job. If we were still married, it would be my job to support her. She’s the mother of a child we both love, so it’s still my job. And she supports me. I get my softball team, she gets her business trips, we both communicate when we get the chance. And yeah, Piper has a nanny sometimes when Nina’s gone, but I also get to come get her if my schedule allows. She’s not neglected—”

  “You don’t even take that girl to church,” Edith sniffed.

  “Because one way or another, you’d make her hate God,
herself, and other people,” Tenner muttered, and then held up his hand. “At least the way you guys do it. I’ve been there, remember? I want something better for her. You guys—you need to leave.”

  They both started at the abrupt change of subject.

  “I’m sorry?” Timothy said.

  Tenner double-checked the oven and reached into the drawer for some foil to put on top of the casserole. “Piper’s not here anymore. She and Nina left before we really started to go at it. I heard the door slam. We’re done here. You lost out on the chance to see your grandchild, and this is not your house.”

  They gaped at him.

  “I’m done,” he said. “You and I are already estranged, and we’ll keep it that way. But now you and Piper are officially estranged as well. You won’t be able to see her unless you sign something that says you’ll never try this crap again.” He had no idea if Nina’s lawyer could do that or not, but then, maybe like with him, just the threat alone would do it. He was surprised at how many people wet themselves and forgot what facts and the truth were when people said the word lawyer.

  “But… but, son….” Timothy James Gibson looked legitimately shaken. “I don’t see how—”

  “I will seriously call the cops,” Tenner said, and he realized that the ball of ice in his chest, the one that Ross had worked so hard at defrosting over the last few weeks, was frozen in his core again. He shuddered and wished hard for Ross.

  “Fine,” his mother said, tugging at his father’s shirtsleeves again. “But we’ll be back.”

  “Then we’ll get a restraining order.”

  And that shocked them both.

  “Tenner—”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, that ice core taking the vitality from his bones. “You could have had Piper’s love,” he said, wondering where that lost note came from. “You could have had a good dinner tonight. But… but you had to ruin it. Like you ruin everything. You ruined falling in love for me—the first time. I was in love. I came out to you and said I had a boyfriend, and… and you froze me out. And now you’re trying to ruin Piper. But I won’t let you. Nina and I have our differences, but Piper is our strength. Just go.”