He was going to have to nip this in the bud, and real quick.
Chapter Two
Javier tossed his bag down and whistled across the clubhouse. “Hey, Thomas, you pitching today?”
Chris Thomas turned from his locker. The most senior player on the team—hell, the oldest damn player in the league—Chris had been having a rough season. At least, on the field. Off the field and strictly off the record, he was dating the team owner, Maggie Harper. From what he’d told Javier, things couldn’t be going better. But his shoulder had been flagging from the start of the season, and just two weeks ago he’d blown a save against Nashville. After losing the championship to them last season, that had definitely stung.
“Nope, I’m day-to-day,” Chris said, grimacing as he rolled his shoulder. “And today is not my day.”
“You can keep me company in the dugout, then.” Javier tried not to look at the door automatically when it opened. Zach hadn’t come in yet, and he didn’t want to seem like he was waiting for him. He dressed quickly and headed out the field. It was early for batting practice, but he wasn’t going to hang around in the clubhouse for an awkward moment with his ex.
It would be so much easier if he could talk to someone, anyone, about what was going on. That was the shittiest part of playing pro ball. The “don’t ask, don’t tell, don’t even think about speculating, we’re all straight” policy that persisted despite all the social changes made over the past twenty years. It wasn’t an official policy, but it might as well have been inscribed on a stone tablet by God himself, it was so ingrained in the culture. And Javier didn’t really have any friends outside of the game. It was isolating in ways he’d never expected.
Thomas came up a few minutes behind. “Hey, you got a sec?”
They walked a few yards away from the dugout, and Chris shielded his mouth with a glove as he spoke. “Remember what I told you about Thorgerson?”
Remember? How could Javier have forgotten? A local journalist was digging up some pretty heinous dirt on the stadium manager. Allegations of betting against the team had given way to rumors about mismanaged finances, and with every new development, things looked… well, way less good. “What is he up to, now?”
“Maggie said he tried to set up a meeting with Morgan and a couple of the investors, thinking he could save his ass by implicating Maggie.” A muscle in Chris’s jaw twitched. Javier was pretty sure a hundred violent revenge scenarios were going through the pitcher’s mind.
“I assume that didn’t go well. Casey’s got a massive hard-on for your girl.” Javier held up his hands defensively when Chris turned that furious glare on him. “Hey, I’m not saying she cares about the hard-on, just that it’s out there bobbing around. He’s not going to let anything happen to the team, I can tell you that for nothing. And he’s always going to side with Maggie.”
“That’s a good way to look at it, I guess.” Chris shook his head and looked up at the stands, where a few early arrivals were making their way down the cement steps toward the rail at the warning track. “I just wish there was some way I could help.”
“You want to be the knight in shining armor saving the day, I get it.” And Javier really did get it. It was hell on earth being in a relationship with someone and having to hide it. Once or twice, he’d considered that maybe Chris would understand his situation, but he’d never taken the risk to come out to him. “Come on, let’s go look busy.”
It wasn’t that Javier disliked fans, but official rules prevented him from talking to anyone not on his team while on the field before a game. No fans, no staff, sure as hell no umpires. That way, no one could bribe anyone to not do their best. Thorgerson hadn’t tried to pull a stunt like that, yet, but Chris had let Javier in on the secret so they both could keep an eye out for anything suspicious.
He was headed down the steps to the dugout to retrieve his batting gloves when Zach came out, looked up, and blanched.
“Am I that ugly?” Javier tried to joke, rubbing a hand over his chin. He hadn’t shaved today. He just hadn’t felt like it. Now, even though it was silly to be worried about how he looked when he had a game to concentrate on, he felt gross and unkempt. That wasn’t like him. He had an image to protect, as a sharply groomed “ladies” man.
Zach managed a laugh as they dodged each other, giving way more room to pass than they would have for anyone else. That kind of shit had to stop because someone would eventually notice it. Or not. Maybe Javier was just feeling particularly paranoid.