Page 11 of The Battery

“Why?” He slid down from the armrest and plopped onto the couch, then hitched up his left leg for comfort, a long limb of tattoos on display. “What was different?”

I clamped my mouth shut. I didn’t want to admit this.

Leo took in a sharp breath. I waited for the berating. The anger to force me into speaking. Instead, he blew out the air from that intake and said quietly, “What was different, Cody?”

“I was having fun,” I said and let the words sit. Then I admitted the truth. “I’m not having fun anymore. I hate this. My dream, and I hate it.”

He pointed at the TV. “What was fun about it?”

“I was playing for myself. Not for others. There was a point—probably at the beginning of the season—when it was clear I would make the forty man. And I knew I wouldn’t be raised to the majors unless someone dropped down. So I just… played for me, because I was waiting. And I had so much fun.”

“Used your knuckleball plenty of times, I saw.”

I smiled. Beamed, actually. My not-so-big secret in the minors that I hid from the majors. “I did, yeah. Coaches hated it. So did the catcher. I loved using it. There’s something fun about unpredictability in a game where everything is now mathematics.”

“Damn right,” Leo said.

And then I almost fainted. I blinked wide in surprise. The man had smiled. I had yet to see his mouth make that shape. It was a sly, crooked grin. Rugged.

Emboldened, I continued. “I feel like I’m playing for other people now. Which, I mean, I am. I recognize that. I’m getting paid. This is about the team. But there’s this element to it that makes me feel superficial.”

“Is it the Assholes?”

“Partly. I feel like I’m fighting to keep my spot.”

“Because you are.”

I nodded. “Because I am.”

“In those first couple of innings against Savannah. You were having fun, right?” I nodded yes. “What about it was fun?”

I blushed, then cursed myself for letting my emotions show so easily. “You, I guess. The other players, too. You’re, um… you can be a dick, Leo. But you’re calm. Reliable. That steadiness makes things easier for me. More fun, I suppose.”

“I like hearing that,” Leo said, and not in a cocky way.

Proud, almost, that he was doing his job correctly.

“The Assholes? Look, Cody, those guys are good. Especially Shoji. They wouldn’t have made it to the majors if they weren’t.

The reason they’re jabbing you is because they know what it will do.

The more you sink into the hole you’ve dug, the more dirt they’ll pile on.

They see an easy win to get a potential star athlete out of the way, and they’re taking it. ”

I perked up a fraction at that. “Star athlete?”

“Absolutely. Our captain sees it, too. You have incredible potential. Especially after I watched all your highlight reels. It’s there. We just need to get that guy back.”

I stood from the couch and blew out a long jet of frustration I had been holding on to. “How do you cope? When people bug you the wrong way?”

“In my younger years? I’d hit them. Now? It bounces off. You probably can’t do either of those things.”

“Nope.”

He stood as well, then crossed his arms. “Which means you use it. Might not be easy at first, but those guys aren’t short of insults, and I know management wants to keep you longer so you can prove yourself.”

“Use it how?”

Again, he pointed to the TV. “Show them him . See, that’s what you work on. You already have the talent Cody, you just need the mental fortitude and only one person can train you on that. I’ll take care of the rest.”

I laughed at the incredulous thought. “What do you mean by that?”

“I see now what you are fully capable of. It’s my job to use your skills in the best way possible until management and the coaches are comfortable with you calling the shots out there. I’m gonna use you to show them how fucking sick we can make this battery.”

Desire unfurled in my belly at the way he spoke. That classic Spartan look of his was back and directed in a way I liked. It wasn’t the time, though, so I forced myself to discard the thought.

“Yes,” I said. “You’re right. The only way to fight the Assholes is just to prove them wrong.

That’s why I had a bad inning the other week.

Because I had two good ones .” We both said that last part at the same time.

His voice deeper and richer than mine but hitting the same syllables at the same time.

“So, what do you want, then? What’s your number one goal now that you’ve reached the majors?”

That was an easy answer. “I want to be a closer.”

Leo’s brow lifted a fraction. “Most relief pitchers vie for starter. Why closer?”

“The pressure. I loved the pressure in the minors. Loved it. Thrived on it. There’s something different about that kind of pressure that I never felt in other positions.

” I felt the need to be blatant with my feelings, not that I had been dishonest to this point.

But there was a degree of ego at play here that he would understand.

“The idea of delivering a game where we have a narrow lead and everyone is on the edge of their seat? It’s a high for me. ”

I was rewarded with another offset grin.

I chuckled lightly and turned away.

“What?” he asked, amused.

“I… I don’t really get you.”

“Now what does that mean?” Gone was his smile, but it wasn’t replaced by annoyance. More like playful curiosity.

“I… you…” I shook my head. “You can be this total jerk one minute, then the next you’re giving me solid life advice, and then another time I’m on my knees in a supply closet.

” I snapped my jaw shut. I didn’t want to say that out loud.

I had an inkling that the bond we were forming was predicated on its silence.

But to my surprise, he said, “Those things are all different. None of them are really connected, to be honest.”

“Wait… what?”

“Look, I’m always a dick. I also like giving advice to people who deserve it. And your body turns me on. It’s all pretty simple.”

This man. He was a machine. How did he compartmentalize those things?

“Well… okay. If it’s how you are…”

“It is,” he stated definitively. “All right. We need to strategize. ‘Cody’s Path to Closer,’” Leo said with air quotes. “I have a playbook I want to fill out with you. Do you have anywhere you need to be?”

“Not really. Just let me know when I’ve overstayed my welcome. I need to call a cab.”

He made a face. “Did you lose your license or something?”

“No, I haven’t bought a car yet.” I scoffed at myself as we came full circle. “I’m too paranoid of dropping back into the minors and losing the salary. So I’m penny-pinching.”

“That’s what rentals are for.”

I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

“We rent cars all the time. Everything I have here is a rental. The car. The house. The furniture. None of us settle down in one place unless it’s in our contracts. We also get insane discounts on everything . Did… no one tell you this?”

Freddie. That jerk. “Nope.”

Leo shook his head. “Damn, Hill. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

*

We filled twenty pages of a composition notebook with ideas, strategies, and exercises. He also scribbled down a long column of things for me to take advantage of. Leo’s handwriting was remarkably legible, almost like typeset. I marveled at how perfect and consistent it was.

The notebook filled up the bulk of our day.

Leo ordered us lunch. We stayed in the basement the whole time.

While I found it curious he didn’t invite me upstairs, I wasn’t going to press the issue.

At dinnertime he ordered more food and brought me to a storage room in the basement that was filled with towers of packages.

We spent our dinner ripping them open where Leo implored me—practically begged me—to take anything I found remotely interesting.

Turned out guys like him receive promotional swag and goods incessantly once ad companies discover their address.

I would be bringing home a new laptop, two gaming consoles, designer hoodies, designer sunglasses, a smartwatch, and top-of-the-line headphones.

Oh, and he had handed me a box of the cologne he wore but I politely declined and said I liked it on him , not me.

To which he gave me another box of assorted men’s perfumes and toiletries.

I really was baffled by the amount of swag he had already accumulated, and he promised I would be in the same boat one day soon.

He said he’d drive me home after we piled all the stuff by the door leading to the stairs outside.

In my notebook was the phone number and email of the car rental company he used, and he said they’d be in touch with me after shooting a message to his personal assistant.

Guys at his level—who had multiple projects outside of their primary job—typically had a mostly-digital assistant who didn’t need to be physically with them.

He disappeared upstairs multiple times throughout the day.

I heard the light pattering of footsteps, followed by his heavy stomping.

It felt invasive to ask and I had a sudden rush of paranoia while he was up there in the midafternoon.

Leonidas Papadopoulos didn’t sit at the upper echelon table of baseball popularity, but he retained the kind of celebrity that still caught the eyes and ears of popular gossipmongers.

A quick Google search revealed he wasn’t in a known relationship, married, or had kids.

I let my curiosity get the best of me when he came back down and asked him if everything was okay.

“Home aide for my uncle,” he had told me succinctly. “She’s in and out throughout the day.” I got nothing more out of him and it felt like an overstep to ask further. I didn’t sense a lie and my “he’s a cheater” radar wasn’t going off.

When the sky fully darkened and the evening came to a natural close, he proposed something that surprised me. “Hot tub?”

“Sure. Got an extra suit?” He didn’t respond. He just gave me a look.

Ah. ’Bout time.

Then he said, “I need to pop upstairs to get my uncle settled for the night. Why don’t you go ahead and jump in. I’ll meet you out there with towels.”

Outside, only a single string of Edison bulbs looping below the gutters of the back porch provided muted, dim amber light.

None of the pool lights were on and I had to think he wanted to provide me with as much modesty as he could.

A sweet thought. The hot tub was square-shaped, raised from the ground so water could spill from a fall into the pool.

I glanced around me for what had to be the tenth time to make sure his backyard was truly private, then stripped naked and climbed in.

No chlorine, thank the water gods. Instead, it was saline.

My body was nowhere near as defined as his, but I wasn’t lacking in the tone department. Years as a professional athlete had given me strong legs, muscled arms, and a flat belly. I tried to relax as best I could as I sat there with my bare ass against the curved tile of a seat.

Leo appeared a few minutes later from the screen door of the porch. He let it close carefully, then walked the pathway to the hot tub where he deposited a stack of towels and offered me an unopened aluminum bottle of lite beer.

“Abso lutely ,” I said as I grabbed it from him.

His eyes traced my body, flashed below the surface.

The lighting was poor enough that nothing of definition would stand out.

He circled around to the opposite side, unceremoniously stripped bare, and then stepped in.

I couldn’t pull my eyes from him, his unaroused manhood gently swinging before dipping below the surface.

He let out a long sigh as he extended both arms to the side, then kicked up his feet to rest on an open spot to my left.

“You probably hear this a lot,” I said as I twisted the top of the beer, “but your tattoos are so damn cool.”

Leo picked his head up from where it had dropped back. “Thanks.” He snatched his own beer and popped it open, then leaned forward. “Cheers.”

We clicked the bottoms and then sipped.

“Thank you,” I said. “For today. And for all the stuff. You really didn’t have to do any of that.”

He tipped his head in recognition. Said, “I like helping out the rookies. And Hill, you needed help.”

At that I laughed. “I will continue to need help, too.” I pulled a long sip of the beer. “Your uncle all good?”

He had been staring beyond me when he nodded but declined to say anything more. There was a barrier there I wouldn’t get past.

Leo adjusted his feet to cross the ankles. His toes knocked into my thigh. On instinct, I reached out and pulled his left foot onto my lap and began to rub. He let out an overdramatic moan of elation and dropped his head back. I chuckled in response.

“Yeah?”

“I am putty,” Leo said.

I would give him anything he wanted for however long he would let me stay.

After eight hours of gift giving and priceless advice, I had a debt to fill.

Strange how he didn’t expect anything from me in return.

True, he suggested some skinny dipping, but nothing about his posture led me to believe he would be making demands.

Was he… waiting for me to show that I was willing?

While rubbing his foot with my right hand, I extended my left along his other leg. It was a delicate touch, just a few fingers drifting along his skin so that he got the idea.

In the dim light, I could see the clarity find his eyes. Yep. He got the idea.

“Think you’ll tattoo the other leg?” I asked.

He shrugged in an awkward way, given how his arms were extended along the back of the tub. “Maybe.”

The man didn’t offer up too many personal details. I think I understood why. Like his uncle, I wouldn’t press to know more. He seemed open when we discussed the game. Anything veering away from that sat behind a gate that didn’t open.

Advice. Sex. That would be what this was.

The realization hit me and I didn’t mind it in the least. Best of both worlds.

“Why’re you smiling?” he asked with a funny tone.

“Oh. Nothing. It’s been a good day.”

He leveled that gaze at me. “Wanna make it better?”