Page 68 of Hiding in the Outfield

TWENTY-THREE

FRANKIE

I swirl my glass of Valpolicella, gaze locked on the television where we have the boys’ game streaming. Maddy, Shelby, and I are posted up in my living room watching the game. The batter hits a bloop to center field, and Jackson jogs in to snag the easy high fly. Seventh inning over. The Clippers are running away with this one, seventeen to three.

“Thank God for an easy win,” Maddy murmurs as he fills his wineglass for a second time.

“I know.” Shelby lets out a relieved groan. “I swear, Paulie was starting to enter the space. Before this road trip they’d only had one win in the last ten games.”

Maddy grimaces. “Same with East. Losing streaks are so fucking dark. And with how much shit has been going on with the team, so much of it was out of their control. You feel like a sitting duck. Helpless.”

Not many people truly understand how hard those low points in a season are for players. I’ve watched my little brother play baseball for two decades. I know the space Shelby is referring to: the dark place he goes to when he disappears inside himself. Our ray of sunshine was doing his damnedest to keep the guys positive, but even Shaney-babe’s bright light was starting to wane.

Something finally seems to have clicked, though. This road trip has been amazing for the Clippers. They haven’t lost a game yet.

“Helps your man is on fire,” Maddy says, shooting me a grin. “Too bad the Clippers couldn’t have him take every at-bat.”

“Not my man.” I shoot him a look and take another sip of wine. The smooth, rich red slides over my taste buds, that deep plum note lingering with a hint of spice.

Shelby’s gaze catches mine over her wineglass, and I do not like the gleam in her brown eyes. “So, you’re both hooking up with other people then?”

“Nope,” Maddy answers for me. “They’re exclusive.”

“Sounds like he’s your man.”

I glare at the two conspirators. I don’t like being on this end of the conspiring. Usually, I’m the one being nosy and annoying.

“We are exclusively physical. It’s out of respect. Jackson, with all of a pinky toe out of the closet, isn’t about to start experimenting with other men. I get regular orgasms from him, so of course I’m going to agree with his request that we don’t hook up with other people. I’m not that greedy.”

“I didn’t realize regular orgasms was two over the course of…two weeks? Is that how long he’s been coming by now?” Maddy taps his lip.

“Sounds like infrequent orgasms if you ask me,” Shelby says with a smirk.

I narrow my eyes at the little sassy squirrel. “You both are little shits. I was just cleared for orgasms. We have had four orgasm-able days. Two of which orgasms were had.” I arch a brow. A fifty percent orgasm rate is good, isn’t it? Then I frown. “How do you even know how many orgasms we’ve had, Maddy? What the fuck?”

Maddy snickers. “Educated guess. Jackson admitted all you two had done was jerk off in the shower together the day he came to my and East’s room. And I mean…we all knew what you were taking him back to your room to do after that conversation. So that’s two. Which you confirmed just now.”

Shelby holds up her hand, and Maddy high fives it. “Excellent orgasm detective work, Madz.”

“This is all very strange.”

“We are all very strange,” Shelby says succinctly.

“Truth.” Maddy grins.

Shelby leans forward and studies me. “So why aren’t you having orgasms every day?”

“What the fuck is this?” I demand. “Some sort of orgasm interrogation? Why aren’t you having orgasms every day?”

“Because I can’t.” Shelby’s jaw tightens. “Some of us are lucky if we get two orgasms a month.”

And I immediately feel like shit. I know she’s not really talking about orgasms. Shelby tries to make it up here every weekend to see Paulie, but with away games, that typically ends up being only two weekends a month. They get very little time together during the season.

Maddy pulls Shelby into the crook of his arm, and she deflates like a sad, wilted balloon.

“I’m sorry, Sea-Shelbs,” I say softly. “Your boy is up.” I nod toward the screen where Paulie is stepping into the batter’s box. Trent’s on second.

That’s all it takes for the light to come back into her eyes. Paulie hits a line drive to the left-center gap, and Shelby’s on her feet screaming at him to run faster. He ends up with a double, and Trent crosses the plate. Shelby collapses back onto the loveseat with a squeal as Maddy and I let out a cheer.