by David Horne
“Not by text at least,” he replied. An idea came to him in a moment of caffeinated clarity. “Do you think you can find out if Billy Reyes is still in the hotel?”
“You might be able to do that.”
“It’s true, but I thought if it was you and word got back to management I was looking for him, they wouldn’t fire you for interfering with the team.”
“I’m not sure if that’s how it works.” But Joel went to the house phone on the nightstand and dialed the front desk. After a quick wait, he put down the phone. “He’s checking out today. The hotel is shuttling him to the bus station in an hour.”
“Can you see if we can give him a ride?” Martin asked. He stood up on spindly legs.
“You can do that. And why am I suddenly your accomplice?”
“I need to take a shower.” He knew Joel watched him cross the suite in his underwear. “And you’re the one with the car.”
***
Reyes was surprised by the offer and appreciative. Before they met him in the lobby, Joel reminded Martin the young man wasn’t facing any assault charges for his fight at the stadium. But he was still considered a hazard to management. Martin felt differently. Whatever happened between him and his teammate didn’t have anything to do with his doctor or the chauffeur.
“You’re going to have a nice shiner for a few days. Keep it iced after showers. It will dissipate.” Martin, conscious of the quiet ride from the hotel to the bus station, wanted something to open conversation for Reyes. “Any other aches or pains?”
“Just my ego,” Reyes replied. He sat in the passenger seat and stared out at the sunshine state tourist shops along the street.
“Can I ask what happened?” It was Joel’s question that Martin wanted to ask. He felt the time had come and gone. But Joel was fresh to the group and Reyes didn’t have anything to hide from him.
The young man shrugged. “I don’t know really. It was a bad call. I just lost my cool and started swinging. I don’t have any explanation for it.”
“Can I ask you something?” Martin felt it was time to get to the point of the trip. “And you don’t have to tell me. Have you been taking anything since you’ve been here? Any kind of supplements that weren’t cleared by me?” he added in an even tone. It was one thing to consider someone consumed illegal substances, and another thing to suggest it openly.
Reyes didn’t answer immediately. Pedestrians along the sidewalk took his attention as the car stopped at a traffic light. “I’m not doing anything illegal.” It was a quick answer that didn’t need any prodding. But it didn’t exactly cover the question Martin posed. But he left it alone.
At the bus station, Reyes waited a moment before he got out of the car. Joel put his hand on his shoulder for camaraderie. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, my dad bought my bus ticket.” He sighed. “What am I going to do now?”
“Well, don’t give up.” Joel’s tone was upbeat. “There’re a few teams that have open tryouts. Just keep an eye out for them. It’s still early in the season.”
“Word gets out that I started a fight, I’ll never get a shot.”
“Well, who knows. You might not have to say anything about it. Just do your best when you go and see what happens.”
Reyes smiled at him. From the back seat, Martin felt a sense of pride in Joel. He got out of the car and opened the passenger door for Reyes.
“Call me if you need anything.” He handed Reyes a business card then shook hands with him.
Reyes slung his duffle bag over his slumped shoulder and walked sullenly into the bus terminal.
Chapter Sixteen
The trip from the bus station to the hotel seemed longer to Martin. He’d grown accustomed to some of the streets in downtown Tampa, and it occurred to him Joel took a longer route back than when they left the hotel.
“Do you think there’s something going on with some of the management?” The question came out in the direction of the passenger window. The Tampa cityscape was sporadic. The further away from the business district, the shorter the buildings. Somehow, they’d found the beach to the south of the city. It was warmer than Martin liked, and he dressed in a light cotton shirt and khaki shorts for the trip. Joel wore loose slacks and a T-shirt. He’d acclimated to the humidity and the intense sunshine. Martin knew it was a matter of a few seasons before he did the same.
“When you say ‘management’ you really mean Key and Durant.”
“I guess so,” Martin turned to Joel. “Do you know what Key does for a living? How does a guy like that or Durant for that matter have time just to hang around all day every day?”
“Maybe they’re retired.”
“Maybe,” Martin repeated, but he didn’t feel it was wholly factual.
“Durant was or is some sort of investor. I know that from some of the conversations I’ve heard.” Joel glanced at Martin. “You think something is going on, don’t you?”
“Well.” He had a feeling that was like an itch inside his skull that couldn’t be reached from the outside. “I’m the ‘new guy.’ I don’t want to sound paranoid. I know I’ve pissed off a few people. I feel like I should just shut up and wait for someone to get hurt before I get involved.”
“You’re not paranoid.” Joel waited a second before he added, “But you did piss off a few people.”
He didn’t want to bring up the fact that it felt like one of the people who Martin pissed off was Joel because he’d said something at the moment that felt right. Surprised by the gentle touch on his cheek when Joel reached out, Martin sighed. He turned to Joel, watching his profile as he drove. They’d made love, they had a history, and so far, Joel hadn’t expressed his emotional commitment to Martin again. It was another layer of aggravation Martin didn’t want to face. But being close to Joel was soothing, medicinal. He was Martin’s comfort blanket, and if he could, he’d wear Joel all day, every day.
“I’ll just mind my own business from now on.” The statement came as an end to the beginning of a conversation that went inside his head.
“I think you should just keep doing what you’ve been doing.” Joel’s hand lightly squeezed Martin’s neck. “Just do what you’re supposed to be doing. If you think something’s going on, just pay attention. You’d be surprised what you’ll pick up around there without even asking questions.”
He turned off the main street along the beach into a parking lot. It was a greasy diner and Joel was already out of the car before Martin disconnected his seatbelt.
“I need a good unhealthy breakfast.” He grinned at Martin. It felt good to see the light in Joel’s eyes again. Over the years they were away from each other, he’d blossomed into someone who wasn’t afraid to do something. He was spontaneous. If he lost his job tomorrow, it was just a hiccup in his life, and he’d land on his feet.
He held open the door for Martin. They ate sitting across from each other talking about trivial things that had nothing to do with baseball, Martin’s paranoia, or where their relationship was going.
After the late breakfast of high cholesterol, fatty foods, Martin felt better. He had great company and the bright blue sky outside the bay window of the restaurant that made him feel as if he was at a turning point in his life. He wasn’t interested in taking a seat when something was eating at him. While he didn’t share his conclusion with Joel, the look on his lover’s face suggested the man already knew Martin had made up his mind.
Chapter Seventeen
It wasn’t something anyone expected. While it was part of the contract with the ballplayers, random drug tests were usually only done at the discretion of the head or assistant coach. When the printed email slid across his desk, Martin already expected the resistance and the angry face hovering over him wasn’t as intimidating as he was before that day.
“What’s this?” McGowan asked.
Rather than come back with a sassy comment, Martin just said, “It’s part of their contract.”
“But we’re in charge of admi
nistrating drug testing. You’re just the team doctor.” The information felt like a jab at Martin’s profession. While he was still new and not exactly the highest paid doctor in the area, he achieved something more than a man who wore custom uniforms and tight pants that hadn’t fit him for some time.
“I’m making a judgment call. If you don’t like it call Brant.”
The look on McGowan’s face suggested he wasn’t used to someone younger than him making demands. He took a breath through his teeth. It was clear to Martin the man wanted to try a different approach. His bully behavior didn’t work with the ‘new guy’ he needed to change up the plan.
“Look, Martin, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” He dropped his weight into the chair across from Martin’s desk. The cleats on his feet scraped the floor. “I know you want what’s best for the boys. I knew that the minute I saw you running across the field during the middle of a play when Simpson fell.” He made a face while adding, “It’s not a good idea to run around a field with balls flying at 90 miles an hour. But your heart’s in the right place.”
“I want to get a clear baseline on these guys. You know how it is. I sit in here and wait all day for something to happen. It’s important we have good records for the commission when the time comes to transition these guys into the big leagues.”
The argument was sound, and Martin had convinced himself of the statement long before McGowan showed up steaming in his office. The man sat quietly across from Martin for a long moment. Marin saw the wheels turning in McGowan’s head. It was impossible to argue the simple logic.
“So, what are we doing?” he asked holding out his hands to show they were empty. “Just piss tests?”
“Sure, that’s fine. Get the guys hydrated and send them in.”
“Sounds good,” he said. Slapping his hands together, McGowan stood up. “It was a good call on Simpson. I don’t think I told you that.” He left the office without waiting for Martin to reply.
The rest of Monday morning, each of the remaining players arrived single-file to the toilet in the examination room. Martin handed out empty specimen cups and received half-full cups in return. It wasn’t the most glamorous part of Martin’s job. But it was a decisive moment, and the beginning of him feeling like he was contributing more than just a standby paramedic who put band-aids on kids that scraped their knees.
The rest of the day, after Martin ran the standard drug panels on all the specimens was outside. The March Florida sun heated up the bleachers, and Martin leaned against the fence watching the game with little interest.
When he made eye contact with Floyd, the grizzled old man touched lifted his chin in acknowledgment. Any hand moves from the head coach if he chose to wave or touch the brim of the ball cap might throw players who watched the man for play changes. He couldn’t get a read on Floyd. But so far Martin felt he was in a better place than when he started the season.
Chapter Eighteen
The zero-tolerance policy meant everyone needed clear urine. A young man who had a long weekend and missed curfew arrived at the office on Tuesday with his cap twisted in his fist.
Floyd leaned against the wall in the small office attached to the examination room. He didn’t say anything when James Green gave a look that displayed an unspoken knowledge of what happened next.
“We’ll expect you to clean out your locker by the end of the day.” McGowan didn’t raise his voice.
“But it’s just pot, coach. Give me another chance.” Tears were brimming in his eyes. Jim looked pleadingly between the three men in the closed office.
“The THC will stay in your system for twenty days.” Martin had written the report that management received in their emails while at practice the day before. Whatever the protocol about handling positive samples, the reports were clear. It was up to the administration on disciplinary actions.
“Why would you throw away a career on something as stupid as this?” Floyd asked Green.
The young man didn’t answer. His bottom lip trembled, and he turned a white-knuckled fist against his eye, as if angry with himself for crying. “I guess I’m just stupid.”
“Look, I get this business of marijuana is legal now. But we have standards that aren’t going to change.” McGowan sat facing Green. He was a tall, skinny young man and now he didn’t have a future as a ballplayer because he made a mistake that would haunt him the rest of his life.
He left the office shortly after meeting. Martin waited at his desk, expecting something from either of the coaches. Both men left the room moments after Green’s departure.
A text from Joel gave Martin some encouragement for the rest of his day. Another player down, this time one of the top batters wasn’t going anywhere now he’d made a poor choice outside the stadium. He closed the door to the office and dialed Joel’s number.
“You don’t travel for away-games do you?” Martin asked him.
“I don’t travel with the team, no.” It came out as if there was room for negotiation. “I have to fly to Chicago on Friday. You get to travel on a bus for hours, sleep in smelly motels, watch kids smack a ball around with a stick, and hopefully, not have to send any of them home in traction.”
“No one goes home in traction.”
“Semantics,” Joel responded. “I’m not traveling. But we can have dinner tonight since you leave first thing in the morning.”
Martin waited with trepidation before saying, “Are we doing this?”
“What do you mean?”
The door closed, privacy and intimacy were necessary for what he needed to say. It was something he wanted to have a conversation with Joel about face to face. But Martin needed to know where he stood.
“I’m talking about us. Are we together again?”
“I don’t know,” Joel said. “Are we?”
“Well, that’s kind of how it feels, but I’m a little confused because it just feels like we walked back into a relationship and somehow we took an unspoken sabbatical.”
“That’s an interesting way of looking at it.” He heard Joel exhale into the receiver. “I know you’re feeling a little perplexed. I know some things need to be said.”
“But you’re not ready to talk.” It came out like a harsh accusation and wasn’t something Martin could just apologize for. He didn’t feel as if Joel led him into anything he wasn’t willing to explore. Their history was friendship first and lovers ever after. Neither of them denied their pasts. And falling into bed again just felt natural and safe. But Martin harbored a thin thread of wonder why it ended. And now where were they going.
“I can’t talk right now.” Joel sounded rushed. As if Martin had backed him into a corner and he fought for an excuse to get away.
“Well, maybe when I get back.” It came out bitter.
“Maybe.” The reply had just as much of an edge to it.
Without trying too hard, Martin ended the call and put the phone on the desktop. He watched as the screen eventually went dark.
After a few minutes of notes on the players’ charges, he closed down the laptop. They were supposed to have dinner. But that changed the moment Martin opened his mouth about the past.
He collected the smartphone, dropped it in his pocket and went to the door.
“You know, I’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes.” Grinning and looking unashamed, Joel pushed Martin back into his office with a gentle hand to his chest. The door closed behind him.
“Are you serious?” Martin asked.
“I was talking to you on my phone in the examination room the moment you called. I was on my way over here to see if you wanted dinner.”
Impossible to suppress a smile, Martin felt a wave of relief wash over him. “You could have just come inside the office.”
Joel wrapped his arms around Martin and kissed him lightly. “I wanted to come inside. But I didn’t want it to happen too fast.”
“Where did you go?” Martin asked. His face pressed against Joel’s shoulder.
Martin nodded. It wasn’t out of disinterest they had separated. They were young, Joel was right. Following his lover to the ends of the earth wasn’t going to pay bills, or put him in a place that he could help others. Joel, made a decision and it wasn’t an explosive ending to a budding relationship, it was anti-climactic and from what Martin understood now: to be continued.
“So, what now?” Martin asked.
Joel spread his arms wide. “What would you like? I’ve been focused on work for years. I never thought we ended, just that we were apart. I know I missed you and I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to share my feelings with you.” He shook his head, pressed his hands into the pockets of his pants and shrugged. “Where would that have got us?” He smiled knowingly. “At least I kept tabs on you. I knew when you wanted sports medicine work; you’d be perfect for the team.”
Then Martin made a sour face. “Doesn’t feel so perfect now,” he said.
Joel leaned in, kissed Martin hard on the mouth. When the kiss broke, he breathed words. “Love me as much as I love you.”
Chapter Nineteen
The time away from Joel during the away game hurt more than the years they had apart. Martin realized, like a lost treasure, Joel meant more to him than he’d ever expressed openly. The changes in his life over the years, the dedication to medicine, were insubstantial trinkets to the fortune of Joel’s presence now. It was a euphoric feeling Martin hadn’t experienced before, and he didn’t want it to end.
The away game was dismal. There wasn’t cohesion on the players, and many of the young men hadn’t responded well to the loss. They didn’t look to each other as teammates, only people to throw blame at and the mood back to Tampa was dark.
