Coach’s thick dark eyebrows pull together. “Your brother? What do you mean, Nebiolo?”
“Last night, the team went out to celebrate our win. My brother—who also happens to be gay—joined us. Devereuxassaulted him. Ended up with a fractured cheekbone and a minor concussion.”
Dominguez curses under his breath. “I need names. Witnesses.” He rubs a hand over his mouth, cheek flexing.
“The only people around when it happened were Olander, Devereux, and my brother. When I got there, Frankie was out cold on the ground. Olander was trying to pull Dev off him.”
“Coño.All right. This is getting escalated. He’ll be kept away from the clubhouse at minimum while we review this. What’s Olander’s involvement in all of this?”
Paulie and I exchange a glance.
“We don’t know, sir,” I say.
Frankie’s been tight-lipped about the entire thing. Which only makes me more suspicious. If Olander had attacked him or somehow been a part of Dev’s assault, I can’t imagine Frankie would be staying silent.
Coach lets out a sigh. “Thanks for bringing this to my attention. And Nebiolo? I’m damn sorry about your brother. How’s he faring?”
“He was discharged this afternoon. In pain, but otherwise good. Not sure if he’ll need time off work. His job requires nearly full-time staring at a computer screen.”
Dominguez shakes his head. “Unacceptable. We’ll see this sorted. I’ll let you know if I need anything further from you two. And if you know of anyone else, please make sure they come forward.”
He leans forward, brown eyes glinting with something sharp. “I won’t tolerate this in my clubhouse. I know how deep the systemic prejudice runs in this sport, but this team is not going to be part of it. The Jetties hold a strict zero-tolerance policy for discrimination. I will suspend the entirefucking team if I need to. If anyone needs to talk, my door is always open.”
“Thanks, Skip,” Paulie and I say in unison.
I’ve always really appreciated Dominguez as a skipper. He truly cares about his players and knows what we need when it comes to baseball. But seeing this side of him sparks a whole new level of respect. A lot of teams and organizations spout zero-tolerance for discrimination. But it’s all press fluff, for show and image. Times are changing, but baseball’s roots are deep, and buried in that history is a whole lot of inherited bigotry that doesn’t disappear overnight.
Paulie and I stand.
“Stone. A moment.”
I give Paulie a wave, and he leaves as I retake my seat.
“Yes, sir?”
“I was planning on giving you a call, but when you and Nebiolo reached out, I thought I’d wait to tell you in person.” His eyes soften, and a smile tugs at his lips.
My brows knit. “Yeah?”
“Right before I got Nebiolo’s call, I’d just gotten off the phone with Noonan.”
My gut clenches.
That couldn’t?—
This couldn’t?—
“You’re getting called-up, Stone.”
My heart stops.
“They want you there first thing in the morning. You’ll be taking over for Sanders in tomorrow night’s game.”
Oh my God.
It’s finally happening.
My moment.
