1
Drew
Two words:Bill Buckner. Four years before I was born, Mookie Wilson hit a ball up the first base line right between Buckner’s legs, causing the Red Sox to lose the World Series. Today, people still know his name, all because of that one play. As I stood beneath the spray of water following game five of the Divisional Championship, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d sealed a similar fate for myself in the bottom of the ninth.
“You’re going to turn into a prune if you stay in there any longer,” Jason hollered from outside the shower.
While that wasn’t my intention, it seemed like a better outcome than turning off the water and having to face my teammates. I’d let them down today. My screw up ended the season for everyone. I wasn’t ready to deal with the looks of disappointment on their faces just yet.
“I know you can hear me, Jackson. Now, quit jerking around and get dressed. There’s a bar with entirely too much alcohol on-hand, and it’s up to us to help them fix that problem.” He was pushy as hell, and since my best friend was his boyfriend, he saw it as his duty to look after me when I was in the dumps.
I didn’t want to drink. What I wanted to do was go home and sit in the dark for a few days. Before, I would have called Cam to have him give me a pep talk, but even that wasn’t possible. He was down in Chicago, hopefully getting ready to get his big break on a reality TV cooking show. I was proud of him, but dammit, he was who I wanted right now.
“Thanks Jason, but I think I’m going to skip tonight,” I informed him as I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair. “Not really in the mood to party.”
Proving he had zero respect for personal space, Jason stepped into the shower and turned off the water. My head whipped to the side as I looked around to see if anyone noticed. I snagged my towel off the hook and wrapped it around my waist as I tried to sneak past Jason. He made that impossible as he clamped his hands around my biceps.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted, looking me square in the eyes and shaking me with each word. The words were nice to hear, even if they were a lie.
I jerked away from him, not wanting to rehash the single biggest mistake I’d made in the nearly twenty years I’d been playing baseball. Even when I played on our community tee ball league, I always worked hard to make sure I played by the rules. Today, I’d gotten too wrapped up in the fact that we were one run away from heading to the League Championship series. All I could think about was getting on base, and I lost sight of the ball and the baseman.
“Fucking fairies.” Mark Butler sneered as he shoulder checked me on the way to his locker. I bit my tongue because the man had every right to be pissed. Still, I wished Stu had been in the locker room to hear him spouting his homophobic bullshit. “...get the fuck out of here so I don’t have to worry about some fudge packer checking out my shit...”
I grabbed a fistful of Jason’s wet T-shirt to keep him from going after Butler. The last thing we needed was someone claiming Jason started the brawl that would inevitably happen if he went after the asshole. The two of them had barely tolerated one another in the time since I’d been traded to Milwaukee, and that relationship had morphed into loathing after Mark started talking shit about Cam.
I was glad my best friend had someone like Jason to take care of him, but I did worry Jason would snap if something didn’t give. Maybe everyone heading home for the winter was the best thing that could happen. Not being around one another every day would give tempers a chance to cool.
“Jason, you need to learn to ignore him,” I advised, pushing him down onto the bench. “Assholes like Mark will always be out there, but it’s up to you to choose how you react to it. If you ignore him, he’ll eventually get bored and move on.”
“Look, I know you mean well, but he’s an ignorant fucker, and I should have knocked him on his ass when I had the chance.” Jason was fuming mad. He curled his fingers around the edge of the bench so tightly I was sure he’d leave fingernail marks in the wood.
I slammed my locker closed. “No, you shouldn’t have. You might have felt better in that moment, but I don’t believe for a minute you wouldn’t have been upset with yourself after the fact. Plus, knowing Cam the way I do, that could have been a deal breaker for him. He doesn’t deal well with people beating the crap out of one another.”
My little plan to remind Jason how much he had to lose if he let his anger get the best of him backfired. When I looked over at him as I buttoned my shirt, he was clutching at his chest. I’d seen him do it many times before, but this time, something was different. The thin ball chain he always wore was missing.
“Have you heard from him yet?” I asked, sitting down next to him. If anyone had told me a few months ago that Jason would become one of my best friends and that he’d be in love with the man I’d dreamed about for much of my life, I’d have told them they were insane. However, here we were, both worried about how things were going for Cam in Chicago.
Jason shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m sure he’ll call when he can. Now, finish getting dressed. You’re going to drink so much tonight that you’ll eventually believe me when I tell you no one’s pissed off at you.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in the state for that,” I bemoaned. “Face it, I fucked up out there tonight. If I’d been paying attention, I wouldn’t have run into him.”
“And if fucking Butler hadn’t gotten greedy, he’d have still been safe at first,” Jason countered. “First and second were empty. The only reason he tried to head home was because he’s a self-centered son of a bitch who’s trying to prove himself. He wanted to be the hero of the game and he failed.”
“And he would have been the hero if I hadn’t run into Montoya,” I argued.
“He’s the one who stepped in your path,” Jason responded. I got the feeling we could go on like that all night, so I stood and started gathering the shit I wanted to take home with me. “I’m going to call Eric and tell him to meet us at the bar. If you’re not there, I will send someone after you.”
As much as I claimed I wanted to be alone, going home didn’t seem as appealing if Eric wasn’t going to be there. And I knew he’d be in his car driving to the bar before he and Jason even got off the phone. He’d been miserable since the end of the regular season, bored because most of his circle of friends played for the Mavericks. That meant he sat at home watching every game because he didn’t want to deal with people asking him what it was like to watch the game, knowing he used to wear the blue and gray jersey.
“Fine, I’ll be there,” I promised him. Jason gave me a disbelieving glare. “I will! I’m just going to pack up a few more things, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Okay, but remember what I said. I’ll have no problem sending Eric and Mason over to the house if you try to ditch us,” Jason warned me as he slung his bag over his shoulder.
I dawdled as long as possible after he left, hoping that the autograph hounds would give up before I walked outside. It wouldn’t be my signature or pictures they’d want from me, it would be a piece of my ass since I’d let them down as well.
The lights in the parking lot turned off when I was only about halfway to my car. I quickened my pace, uneasy in the pitch black night. I knew it was nothing more than my overactive imagination getting away from me, but that didn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder and fumbling in my pocket for my keys.
It was nearly midnight, which wasn’t late by some standards, but it was considered obscenely late in the Jackson household. Still, I knew my dad would be sitting in the worn out recliner he refused to let me replace for him, waiting for my call.
