Winning With Him (Men of Summer 2)

By all accounts, I am.

Declan doesn’t call again. I don’t call him, either. When I go out with the guys on my team for a burger or a game of pool, we sometimes catch glimpses of his games playing on the TV at the bar.

Crosby mentions him from time to time too, dropping tidbits about their latest running bet on who will have a better batting average, or who will smoke out the other team when we play our series in September. Chance will relate their text thread about the absurd trivia they are dying to feed the teams’ Jumbotron operators.

Did you know Chance Ashford throws a ninety-eight-mile-an-hour fastball, but is afraid of spiders, mushrooms, and peanut butter?

Did you know Declan Steele studied art history in college and his favorite song has always been “November Rain,” which he’d like to sing a cappella to the ballpark tonight?

Didn’t know that about Chance.

Didn’t know that, either, about Declan’s major.

I don’t let on, though, that I know he likes Guns N’ Roses. I simply nod and smile at all the right times.

In September, the team will travel to New York for our series against the Comets. It’ll be the first time I’ve seen Declan since the morning he left.

I didn’t know how I’d feel when the day came, but now that it’s here, I’m ready to face him. So damn ready.

September

10

Declan

Maybe I do spend more time getting ready for work than usual. I trim my beard, take a long shower, put on my best jeans and a good polo. You never know who you might run into in the corridor at the Comets stadium. Sometimes I bump into visiting players.

Could happen today.

My dumb heart gives a kick, saying yes, wouldn’t that be great!

I roll my eyes at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. But still—I hope.

I grab my Comets ball cap, phone, and wallet, and head out of my apartment to catch the subway to the ballpark. As the train rumbles out of the station on its way to the Bronx, my phone buzzes with an incoming text.

My dad’s name appears on the screen.

Bracing myself for bad news, I click open the thread.

* * *

Dad: Look at this beauty! Our truck is so spiffy!

* * *

A photo follows—a shot of his new tow truck with the logo of Two Cousins Towing emblazoned on the side.

A small smile pulls on my lips.

I don’t usually smile when my dad’s involved, but a quick scan of our text thread from the last few months is the reason I do now.

Like this one from a month ago.

* * *

Dad: I got my one-month chip. Thank you.

* * *

It’s the tenth time he’s earned a one-month chip. Or maybe the fifteenth. I don’t know. Still, maybe this time it’ll stick.

Then there’s this message from earlier in the summer.

* * *

Dad: Thank you, thank you, thank you. You saved our business. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Also, that was a helluva game last night. You do me proud on the field. And off the field.

* * *

As I look at the latest picture of the truck, I have plenty of questions and doubts. Is he better? Will he stay sober this time? Will his business make it? I wish I knew.

But all I know is the last five months have been peaceful enough, giving me plenty of time to think.

Plenty of time to consider everything I could have done differently.

Sighing, I write back to my father.

* * *

Declan: It’s a beauty, all right.

* * *

Then I close the thread and picture how I want today to go.

11

Grant

As the plane taxis along the runway in San Francisco, ready to fly to New York, I send a text to River.

* * *

Grant: Dude, we are in playoff contention. Let me say that again—we are in playoff contention.

* * *

River: And that is exactly why your game will be on the big screen tomorrow at The Lazy Hammock. Though, confession: I would play it anyway. Of all the major sports, baseball uniforms are my fave.

* * *

Grant: Understandable. Too much padding with hockey and football. Not to mention helmets.

* * *

River: You know me so well.

* * *

Grant: But what about basketball? Isn’t that kind of the least amount of clothes? Wouldn’t that be your favorite?

* * *

River: Hun, my fav is . . . wait for it . . . swimming! Hello, itty-bitty bathing suits. Come to River.

* * *

I laugh as I type out a reply.

* * *

Grant: Of course Speedos are your favorite.

* * *

River: Yours too. Just admit it. You love watching swimming.

* * *

Grant: Honestly, I like hockey for the strategy.

* * *

River: Said no one ever. Anyhoo, keep me posted on how it goes seeing Mr. Tall, Dark and Totally History. Also, strike his ass out.