Page 16 of Hiding in the Outfield

Shelby bops over to me, and I pat the couch cushion. “Hey, babe,” I say and offer my cheek.

She busses it and then cuddles into my side. My Shelby. She’s my snuggle buddy. And partner in crime. “I’m here for an entire week, Frank!”

My chest lights up. “This week just got so much better. I have an exam in two weeks, so you can wait on me hand and foot while you’re here.”

“Because I know what you go through for your exams, I’m not even going to reprimand you for that. Whatever you need, I got you.”

I have to take a series of exams to earn credentials for my profession. Right now, I’m an Associate of the Society of Actuaries, and I’m one exam away from becoming a Fellow. The exams are ridiculously difficult. They say 100 hours of studying per hour of exam at minimum to be able to pass. Most of the exams are around three hours long. I know myself now and learned the hard way that I need more than that. So, all that to say, in the month leading up to my exam, I settle under my little study rock and forget the world exists.

“You know I love you, Sea-Shelbs. More than I even love Paulie.”

“Fuck you very much,” Paulie throws out.

I’m lying, of course. I love Shelby, and I hope she’s Paulie’s forever because they’re perfect for each other. She’s the perfect addition to our family, but nothing will ever match me and Pauls’s bond.

I extend my hand, and Paulie reaches out and grabs it for a squeeze. When he was little, he used to always play with my hands. A small tactile thing, I guess. It calmed him. It’s funny, because I notice he does it sometimes with Shelby now. Like I said. She’s perfect for him.

I squeeze back. “Love you, Pao Pao.”

“Love you, Chessie.”

Francesco and Paolo. Brothers and best friends.

I’m going to really miss him when he gets the call-up. And I know it’s coming. My little bro is as talented as they come. Having him live here again has been everything. But soon it’ll be his time.

And then I’ll be all alone again.

Empty hookups, empty home.

SEVEN

JACKSON

I pass a bowl of chips to O’Neil and hurry to the door. We’re having an MLB The Show night. We try to make it out to the bar when we can, but this gig is a fucking grind and also…we get paid shit. So, when we want some team bonding, we pile into our Clippers-provided housing and play video games all night. Most of the guys with families don’t come out for these nights. I swing open the door.

“Hey, Ollz!” Roche pushes past me, something bundled in his arms.

Roche does manage to join us even though he’s one of the family-man guys. We all look to him as our captain. He’s a minor league vet and had some time in The Show when he was younger. We have a few guys like that on the team. It’s great to have guys with experience in the big time to help coach us younger players. And they’re reliable—if the Jetties need a solid first baseman in a pinch, they can depend on Roche.

“I brought All-Star Baseball 2000 and my N64!” he calls.

A bunch of the guys groan.

“Veto!” Thompson says. “You’re showing your age, old man. The graphics on that are offensive to the eyes.”

“This game is a classic, I hope you know. Back when it came out, the offensive graphics were beyond their time.”

“These young whippersnappers don’t appreciate nuffin’ these days,” O’Neil snarks.

Roche smacks him across the back of the head, and we all laugh. Then he takes a seat next to Thompson.

Araujo and Thompson live next door, so they’re already here. O’Neil is one of my suitemates. He rooms with Slater, one of our relievers. I roomed with Henderson, but now I’ve got the room to myself since he got injured and is rehabbing down in Double-A. Can’t say I mind. Henderson is in Dev’s camp, just quieter about it. My heart had dropped out of my ass when I saw my roommate assignment.

Dev can’t make it tonight. Stuck with the wife and kids. When he texted me that, I nearly cheered. It’s been a really weird year so far. It’s almost like the Clippers have a roster of good people. Last time we went out to the bar a couple weeks ago, I got set straight about Dev by Stone, Michaels, and Nebs. The thing they don’t know is…I’ve always agreed with them.

But the world favors men like Devereux.

We are praised and rewarded for being assholes. We treat women as objects? Great job, son! Grab ‘em by the pussy! We make fun of others and prey on their weaknesses? You’re becoming quite the man! They’re not always that blunt, but it’s everywhere you look growing up. Subtle remarks slid into everyday comments, built into people’s actions and mannerisms. TV, media, school, home. You can’t escape it. And everyone just laughs along like it’s some big joke, myself included.