Page 23 of The Battery

Leo

I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling. My phone was in my hands and reels of possible things to say ran through my mind’s eye.

Naturally, I wanted to default to demands.

Something shifted, however, after today.

Cody not only met my uncle, he also caught a glimpse of my vulnerability.

I had shared it willingly and it terrified me.

So much so that I wanted to do it again, almost like it was a morbid curiosity I couldn’t look away from.

Me: Thanks for coming over today. What are you up to tomorrow?

Cody: Was thinking about working out at the stadium for a bit. You?

Me: Would you like to come to Boston with me?

Cody: Sure! When are you thinking?

Me: My uncle usually gets settled around 10am. So, after that? I’ll hire a driver. It’s easier.

Cody: That sounds perfect. What do you have in mind?

Me: Shopping. Then dinner?

Cody: Love it.

Me: Great. See you tomorrow.

Cody: See you then.

I lowered my phone, satisfied with my approach. Something nagged at the back of my mind, though. A new itch. I had to scratch it.

Me: Thank you for sitting with me afterward. It’s been tough.

Cody: Sometimes the least you can do is the best thing to do. I’m here. Whenever you need me.

That carried me to sleep.

*

My worst nightmare came true around 10am the next day. Uncle Andy, Cody, and Maribel were standing in my kitchen having a lively conversation with each other.

The driver waited for us in the driveway and I tried to give my strongest “let’s freakin’ go” vibe but all three rejected it like I wasn’t even there.

I stifled a sigh when my uncle popped open a seltzer from the beverage fridge for Cody to sip on.

He had both him and Maribel laughing at some silly story about me when I was a kid.

Noticeably, he left out my brother, who was the instigator of my toddler rage.

His profound knowledge of my preference for privacy still rocked me. He could regale these two folks with stories providing depth to my character yet sequester precious aspects of those memories that exposed me. Who else but family could accomplish such a feat?

Why am I losing him? I thought as I watched him attempt to gesture, lose balance, then grab his walker for support. Maribel was there a heartbeat before me, gently guiding him to safety while he continued the story without breaking.

In time his energy waned. Lion yawning emphasized his need to rest, and it was Maribel who called an end to the fun before I could lose my temper.

Uncle Andy demanded a hug from Cody before going back down the hallway.

I had to turn away and pretend to fetch something from the cabinet.

They’d only met twice but already I could see the forging of a relationship.

Maybe… because he sees it happening with me.

I thanked Maribel and said we’d be back late and that I’d text her when we were on our way.

She insisted I not worry about it. I opened my home to her, and she had full access to everything at a professional athlete’s disposal who had enough connections to make a Hollywood actor blush.

She had no idea of the bonus coming her way.

Finally, I got Cody out the door. Inwardly, I squealed like a child at watching his reaction. When we stepped outside onto the stoop, blasted by the July heat, his jaw fell open.

In the driveway waiting for us was a black Mercedes-Maybach GLS. The colossal SUV sat there like an onyx spaceship, unbelievably luxurious, and waiting to drive us into the city. A man climbed out from the driver’s side and pulled open the rear doors for us to climb in.

“Holy shit,” Cody said as we walked to the car.

“Mr. Papadopoulos. Mr. Hill,” the chauffer said with a friendly smile. I climbed in on the driver’s side, Cody on the other.

We sank into premium off-white leather. This particular model only had one row for two bucket seats, which would allow us to recline nearly all the way, should we choose.

Cooling seats prevented us from getting too hot, as did what appeared to be eight separate vents, which were blasting cold air.

We buckled in and off we went, floating down the backroads of Lexington, gliding like a skater on ice.

“This is probably the most luxurious thing I’ve ever experienced,” Cody finally said as we hit the highway. He had been fidgeting with controls, knobs, and electronic options for the seat for the past fifteen minutes. Watching him was…

Adorable.

A part of me hated that thought. The other hated the part that hated it.

Cody seemed to settle as we hit cruising speed. He lightly slapped his knees and said, “All right. You haven’t said where we’re going. Just some amorphous ‘shopping’ excursion.”

“I’m buying you a suit,” I told him. That surprised him. “Veterans used to do that for rookies back in the day. These days, they usually buy some fancy bag. I always thought suits were better.”

He nodded his head in appreciation. “Wow. Thank you, Leo.”

“Also, you need to update your style. The khakis and t-shirts aren’t going to work.”

Cody snorted and looked out my window, as if there was an audience for my apparent funniness. “Um, okay. But, you don’t have to—”

“I said I’m buying the suit, not the other clothes,” I informed him.

“I’m just here to help you say ‘no’ to pretty much everything you’ll want to get.

” He beamed at that. So I gave him a little more light with which to shine.

“You make league minimum now and your star is rising, not falling. Don’t live like you’ll be back in the minors.

You can spend some of that money you’ve worked your ass off to make, Hill. ”

He needed to hear it. I saw his face go red as he turned to look out his own window. I stayed quiet to give him a moment. This car, the shopping, seeing my house, it was all a taste of things to come, so long as he stayed the course.

This was one of my favorite things. Yes, I was gruff and mean and rude and a dick. But helping out rookies and those who had the talent to exceed? To show them the endgame of their potential? It was worth more than all the fancy things that success could buy.

“You’re still an ass,” he said eventually. He got a smile out of me for that one. I knew he treasured them, since it was difficult to get one out of me.

“Yeah, well,” was all I knew how to say.

Cody forced me into idle chitchat for the duration of the drive, something I had already mentally prepared for.

He had an impressive intuition not to ask me further questions about my personal life.

Whatever he knew about me came from Uncle Andy.

I kept my personal life so wrapped up that even the prying bloggers, vloggers, and sports tabloids folks couldn’t dive too deep.

He knew—was certain, I’m sure—that I withheld something from him and yet he didn’t try kicking down the door. It was impressive. Admirable.

Alluring, honestly. All my one-night stands or playthings in the past had tried to crack the concrete that I poured over my soul.

All of them had failed. Then here this rookie was, a fun toy, then not, respecting my need for privacy.

It was enticing, to be honest. How far was he willing not to go?

And how much of that would make me want to tell him everything?

We arrived on Newbury Street where the driver deftly parked in a parallel spot. I insisted he stay in the car and didn’t have to pull the door open—I liked nice things but wasn’t that bougie.

“Good. We’re on time,” I told Cody as I led us toward a custom suit shop.

Converted, historic brownstones lined either side of the street, many reconstructed to fit a modern appeal.

Nothing rose above three stories and each was a splash of the current occupant’s flavor.

Lush and blooming magnolia trees dotted the entire street, each with a bed of rich black soil beneath.

People wearing summer clothes laughed and chatted as they strode down the sidewalks, a slow and steady stream of traffic rolling by.

I brought us to a tailor, the entrance up a flight of stairs where a bell chimed overhead at our arrival.

An elderly gentleman wearing a three-piece suit greeted us, by name, at the door.

This surprised Cody, even more so when the man offered him a glass of champagne.

He politely declined, as did I, and instead I asked for sparkling mineral water.

Thus, the late morning kicked off with Cody standing on a velveteen platform in front of a trifold mirror.

The tailor—or haberdasher , as Cody jokingly called him with a horrible British accent—took his measurements and brought in round after round of fabric to match his skin tone, eyes, and hair.

We walked through the various styles and fits.

We settled on a two-piece linen blend in a timeless navy-blue color.

I sat in the corner and popped to my feet when specific sartorial advice was needed.

Other than that, I let Cody lean into the experience, calling the shots like he would from the mound.

I supposed, to some extent he was, standing there on that platform.

The tailor disappeared to record measurements and preferences and said he’d be a few minutes. I stood from the chair and stepped up beside Cody. On the platform, he reached my height. It was…

I swallowed and ignored the swelling of hunger.

“Good fit? Not too snug?” I asked. It was only a sample, but it would give him an idea of the real thing.

I put my hands at the base of his neck and moved my palms slowly along his shoulders.

Down his arms. I wanted it to seem like I was checking for the fit, but in truth… he just looked so sharp in the jacket.

Cody rolled his neck and adjusted the lapels like some kind of 1920s gangster. I wanted to laugh but held back. “Good fit, yeah. Not sure I’ll be pitching in this, so the snugness seems right.”

My hands continued to trace his body. I had this odd sense of seclusion.

Where once I had full access to this man’s body, I now had none.

Which made me want it even more. Suddenly what lay beneath the fabric became an unknown.

New territory to be mapped by the tips of my fingers.

Funny—I had ample opportunity before to do so but rejected the idea, to keep him at arm’s length.

I circled around the platform, my hands never leaving the jacket. I heard him take shaky breaths. He made a valiant attempt at watching himself in the mirror, but his eyes kept darting to me.

I have complete control , I thought. My hand slipped inside his jacket to “feel” for the fit. My thumb delicately moved along his ribs. He shivered.

He’d do anything for me. All I have to say is what and when.

I slipped my hand out. Ran them both up the lapels of his jacket and made pretend adjustments to it, as if I knew what I was doing. All I wanted was for my hands to remain in contact. Noticeably, his pants began to bulge. To tease him, I slung my thumb along the waist band and tugged.

“Not too tight?”

“Good. It’s…” The words came out a jumble, breathy and hot on my neck as I feigned an inspection. I looked at him. Measured.

“Sounds like we found the one then, didn’t we.”

He mouthed the word “ yeah ,” which I think he meant to say. Instead, it came out barely a whisper.

All I have to do is touch his lips and he’s mine.

I put a firm grip on his hips. An unmistakable gesture. No pretend checking for the tailoring.

We stared. I froze in the moment, caught between what I wanted and what I needed. Cody froze, caught in whatever mental turmoil I had likely cast him into. It patently wasn’t fair. I berate him, ostracize him, then include him and tease him. None of that added up to what would be considered fair.

I dropped my hands. I saw a piece of him wilt, a hope in his eyes that had been glistening now a faded echo, like a rushing sound in a canyon.

The moment passed like fog moving out to the sea—slowly. I held his gaze as we both recognized the passing of it. Without words, I needed him to see my need and my ability to master it. I had told him no strings. I meant it. I wouldn’t force his hand, though I knew he’d be willing.

Again, Cody adjusted the lapels and cocked his head to give me a feigned look of impertinence. “So now I’ll look fly when we fly, right?”

Another win for Cody. I snorted out a stupid laugh. The joke was so dumb it was perfect.

“We’re not done yet, Hill. We still have plenty more places to go.”

With the moment passed, we both settled back into our distance.

Not ships in the night, but ships in the day. In sight and out of reach.