Page 10 of The Battery

Cody

T wo days later, my phone chimed with an incoming text. The sound interrupted the white noise pumping from the speakers. I sleepily blinked my eyes until clarity found me.

I had slept in. It was a day off from games and I figured I’d give myself a day off from working out for recovery. I planned to stay home, hydrate, and veg on the couch to play video games. Something to look forward to in breaking the monotony of not playing on the field. Still.

With a grunt, I rolled and snatched my phone from its charging cradle.

Leo: It’s Leo. Swing by my place when you wake up. Here’s the address.

Oh. Okay. Guess he got my number from someone.

I liked his text to show I saw it, then flipped the covers off to plant my feet on the ground.

It was a beautiful June morning, the sky a crisp blue with golden rays peaking over the oak tree outside my window.

I took in three cleansing breaths and then chugged the water on my nightstand.

Two days ago I was happily on my knees in a storage room, then almost no contact with the man, since I wasn’t playing games. I didn’t mind the lapse in contact, but a part of me did wonder what exactly was going on there.

Guess you’re gonna find out.

I went through my morning routine in about half an hour. I dressed in shorts, sandals, and a long-sleeve, blue t-shirt. A heard a new text come through my phone. Before I could reach for it, a second came in. Then a third. A fourth. A fifth.

Five total. In a row. Which always meant…

My moms.

I read the texts in a group chat labeled “Cody’s Moms.” In truth, they were the five separate mothers of the foster care families I had lived with throughout my youth.

When I was drafted, all five had pooled money together to throw me a party where they all met each other for the first time.

The infamous group chat was born that day and now, whenever one texted, all the others had to join in.

I shot them all an “I love you, I’m fine” regarding their curiosity.

One of them had noticed a change in my behavior—how the hell she did was beyond me since I lived three hours away.

I reassured them all again after another round of sudden panic.

Took a selfie with a thumbs-up and five immediate hearts appeared.

After using an app to call a rideshare (reminding myself that I really needed to get a car at some point), I texted Leo that I would be there in about twenty.

Leo: Go through the side gate. Rear basement entrance.

Jeez, the man was as terse in his texting as he was speaking.

I popped two breath mints five minutes out.

My assumption here was that he wanted something physical and I had zero problem obliging.

After what he demonstrated in that storage room…

every fifteen minutes for the past two days, all I could think about was the amount that he produced.

I wanted to see it again in action. It was like the eighth wonder to me. I had never seen anything like it.

Leo lived in a modern farmhouse with a gambrel roof.

Sandstone beige siding covered most of the house, it had white trim and black windows.

A wide and deep awning supported by Craftsman style columns covered a double oak front door with dual faux gas lanterns to either side.

The lawn, a long stretch of checkerboard-patterned mowed grass, was bookended on the lefthand side of the house by a recently sealed driveway that terminated at a three-car garage.

I thanked the cabbie, jumped out, and chewed on a third breath mint.

White vinyl fencing jutted out from the leftmost garage bay, and it took me a minute to figure out the unlatching mechanism to get it open.

Once through, a gravel walkway brought me to the backyard oasis.

A slight incline of manicured grass surrounded the entire area to make it feel like an amphitheater.

An L-shaped pool with an integrated and raised hot tub dominated the space.

A raised fire pit with six Adirondacks in a circle looked inviting off to the side.

Extra-high fencing provided privacy from neighbors, as well as an arboreal curtain wall along the inclined border.

I could imagine how gorgeous it all was at night.

Strings of Edison bulbs throughout indicated a relaxed but sophisticated ambience.

The backside of the house had a screened-in porch. Between the porch and back of the garage were concrete stairs leading down to a set of black french doors. I jogged down and knocked on one of the glass panes. I heard a mumbled shout that sounded like “open,” and pushed my way inside.

Deep-pile carpet in the lightest shade of beige.

I immediately kicked off my sandals. White walls.

High ceiling. Plenty of window wells giving natural light to a cavernous space.

A massive television screen with an equally huge, deep, inviting couch.

A full gym in a nook to my right with a kitchenette opposite.

Wood-wrapped Lally columns dotted the entirety of the finished basement.

Leo was there, leaning against the column nearest to the couch.

He held a remote in one hand that he lightly tapped on the palm of the other.

He wore those impossibly short shorts again and a tight-fitting tank top.

Barefoot. No hat. Hair styled, with a fresh fade, including the beard.

For a moment, I contemplated just dropping to my knees right there to get things started. But his body language…

“Come sit,” he said and gestured toward the couch with his chin. “Want something to drink?”

“Water?”

He walked over to a glass-doored mini fridge beside the couch, pulled out two bottles of water, and tossed one to me. He pointed at the middle cushion of the couch for me while he sat on the right-side arm, then smashed a button on the remote.

The television flared to life and I stared at a frozen video of me, mid-throw.

I wore sea-green and gold, the colors of the Providence Merchants, the AAA farm team for the Riders.

Leo hit Play and I completed the throw. A fastball smacked into the glove of the catcher at one hundred one miles per hour.

A score at the bottom of the screen showed us at the top of the sixth.

We were at seven runs. The opposing team at none.

It was one of my best games and I remembered every second of it.

“Who’s that?” Leo asked me.

My brows pinched together. I ping-ponged between him and the screen. The video continued as I pitched a nasty changeup. “Um. Me?”

“Not from where I’m sitting.” He pressed more commands into the remote.

Another video popped up. A highlight reel from the same season, when I closed every game in the month of August. Not a single run from the opposing teams. “Look at this guy.” He freeze-framed at just the right moment.

Hit a button on the remote that let him zoom in, which he did on my face.

Calm. Composed. Focused. A man who owned the mound.

“ Look at this guy.”

“I am,” I said.

He shook his head, then played another highlight reel.

More closing. More domination. He freeze-framed again, this time as I held my composure, waiting for the call to come in.

Great lighting. Burning gold sunset in the background.

Stadium only a quarter filled with the casual fans of the minors.

I loved Providence, Rhode Island. Loved my tiny, cheap studio apartment a stone’s throw from work. I was…

Happier.

I blinked as I stared at a year-younger me.

“Where is he?” Leo asked. He tossed the remote onto the couch and rotated his body away from the television and toward me.

It was a good shot of me, I had to admit. But here and now, it felt like the younger me was trying to expose present day me as a fraud. I felt like an imposter and this kid on the screen was the real deal.

Leo huffed out a quick sigh. “Thought you’d sail right through, didn’t you?

” At that, I turned to look at him. “King shit right here had all the confidence in the world. You were on the forty-man then, weren’t you?

Waiting your turn. It wasn’t talent anymore, it was patience at that point.

The Riders already knew you were good. Now someone else needed to be worse. ”

I had been scooting forward on the couch.

It was too deep to sit with my back to it and not lounge, but now all I wanted to do was crash backward.

I hunched forward, forearms on my knees, and had to crane my neck to the right to look at Leo.

I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t find any words to say.

I felt like I had been caught in a horrible lie.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Admitting that hurt. I thought it was supposed to be freeing?

“Got your ego checked, didn’t you?” I could only nod at that one. “So instead of learning, you let it get the best of you. Am I right, or am I right?”

If he starts this pushing bullshit again…

“You’re right,” I admitted.

“I’ve been watching you for two weeks now,” Leo said.

“Well, the old you. After our game against Savannah, I had Emma pull everything they had on you and send it to me. I needed to study you ,” he said and pointed to the TV, “without interacting with you .” Then he pointed at me.

“These are two completely different people. I think maybe I saw a little bit of the old you, especially during the first two innings against the Libertines. Then poof . Gone. Because…?”

“Aston, Shoji, and Levine,” I said. “The Assholes.”

“ The Assholes ,” Leo repeated with a feigned reverent tone. “So, normal bullshit that you suddenly can’t handle. I’m betting you got plenty of teasing and douchebag competition in the minors. It’s not as cutthroat as the majors, but I know things can get ugly. Did they?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. But… I dunno. I just handled it.”