Page 17 of Saved By the Pitcher

“Because there’s a photo of you two online walking out of Yankee Stadium together. The caption under the photo reads something about him being the first guy you’ve been spotted with since announcing you’re a queer.”

“Shit,” Mike said, pulling up the screen on his iPad to search his and James’ names. As Jessica had stated, the photo had made it online, and the verbiage was as Jessica described, though the news wires were careful to note that Vicksburg was not known to be gay and there had been no public displays of affection—at least not caught on camera.

“He’s the reason you broke up with me, isn’t he?” Jessica continued.

Mike wiped a hand over his face, dropping himself on a nearby chair. “Jessica, he and I are friends.”

“Friends? How many times have you seen him since we went to that musical?”

“Today was the first time I saw him,” Mike explained.

“Then how are you friends already?” Jessica challenged. “No, I think you’re into this guy and that little date was the prelude to something sick. Question is, is he into you, too? Maybe I should talk to the press. It might be an interesting tidbit, don’t you think? Baseball star hooks up with conservative senator’s son.”

“Jessica, please don’t,” Mike implored. “Why would you do that to him? Nothing happened between us. I swear. He’s a Yankees fan. I had told him when I met him backstage that I could get him a seat in the box to watch a Yankees game,” Mike lied.

“Why? Why would you offer to do that, unless you’re attracted to him?”

“How about because I’m a nice guy? He seemed like a nice guy. Is it not okay to try to make friends with someone who seems cool?” Mike plowed on.

He could tell Jessica’s certainty about the situation was beginning to waver as she stayed silent for a moment. “Well, he must be an idiot if he went with you one-on-one the day after you announced you’re into cock. Didn’t he worry what people would think?”

“Did you call me to trash-talk me? Your choice of words is insulting and you’re sounding like a bigot right now,” Mike chastised.

“At least I’m not a liar!” Jessica shot back. “You made me the butt of jokes with my friends. One of them asked if I had to wear a strap-on when I had sex with you.”

Mike groaned. He knew some people would be unkind, but it didn’t make it easier to hear the ugliness being directed at him…and now toward Jessica. “I’m sorry they’re doing that. It seems to me they must not be very good friends to speak to you that way.”

“Don’t make this about them,” Jessica snarled. “You weren’t honest with me, and I don’t believe you weren’t screwing men while we were together.”

“I wasn’t,” Mike replied. “I’ve never been with a man like that.”

There was silence for a moment. Mike was surprised that Jessica’s tone then softened. “Well, how do you even know you like men? Maybe you’d hate sex with them. Why are you telling everyone this shit? It’s not too late. You can tell people it was a joke. We could get back together. We had something good, didn’t we?”

Mike leaned his head back against the seat cushion with frustration. “Jessica, stop. I don’t want to get back together with you. You and I are just too different.”

Her anger returned. “I don’t know about that. We both like men, except that’s natural for me and not you.”

Mike heard a disconnect. He thought he’d be ill from the way Jessica spoke to him. She had a right to be angry that he had deceived her, but he had treated her well while they were together and he had tried to be kind when ending the relationship. He was shocked to hear how hateful she was being to him now. It made him realize how many other LGBTQ individuals had suffered that and far worse.

He wasn’t in the frame of mind to call James. He didn’t want to speak with anyone. After a few hours of staring at the ceiling wondering if he had made a mistake in coming out—or in taking James to a public place—he fell into a restless sleep on the chair.

Chapter Seven

After the photo of James with Mike leaving Yankee Stadium hit the news wire, James’ father had phoned. And as James suspected, the call was about him being spotted with Mike. James was relieved that his explanation was an honest one—he had met Mike at his show and they decided to watch a ballgame together. Charles Vicksburg made an unkind suggestion that James should stay away from other men that shared his ‘frowned-upon preferences’ so as not to be tempted. His father not too subtly mentioned that Mike owned a restaurant in Manhattan—one which his father’s connections could make difficult to operate—if it even remained open.

James pushed through his stage performance, trying to overcome the sluggishness that came with general depression. When Mike hadn’t called him the night before as he had mentioned he might, James was convinced something had gone wrong. He wondered if one of his father’s thugs had already reached out to Mike and threatened him, scaring him off. Though it made James unhappy, he couldn’t blame Mike for backing off, and James thought it might be for the best in the long run.

Once James returned to his apartment from work, it was late, and he just wanted to go to bed to forget the sadness he felt from being trapped by his father and the impact it had on his life.

“Jesus!” James shouted when he flipped on the lights and saw Billy sleeping on his favorite chair.

Billy jolted awake, pulled his fists against his chest, and leaned into the side of the recliner. Once he realized it was James, his face was red from embarrassment and angry that he’d been startled. “Are you trying to scare me to death?”

“What are you doing here?” James demanded.

Billy looked hurt. “Why are you asking in that tone? You told me I’m always welcome here.”

James frowned before dropping his bag on the floor. He walked over to Billy to tousle his hair. “Of course, you are. But it’s eleven-thirty. Did you and Nadia fight?”