me out of my contract,” I demanded. In all the years I’d worked with Doyle, I’d never outright demanded a single thing from him. I hadn’t given him a hard time when he called to tell me I was being shipped to the Northwest back when I’d have given anything to play for Miami or Orlando.
I’d barely resigned myself to riding out my contract there when he called to tell me I was being traded to Montreal, but I still didn’t complain. No, I’d known what I was getting into when I chased after a major league career. But this…this was more than I’d bargained for and I was going to dig in my heels.
“PJ, you know they’re not going to let you walk away,” he groaned. “You’re putting up good numbers for them and you’re one of the most talented players on the team. If you ride it out a bit longer, maybe I can convince them that you’re better leverage for them to trade for younger, cheaper talent.”
“Not happening,” I responded bluntly. “Unless they guarantee me I won’t have to hear a single person talk about how they’d love to shove a broken beer bottle up someone’s ass or making light of gay clubs being attacked because the world was a better place without them. No one should have to put up with that, and I’m pretty sure the league wouldn’t be pleased to hear how common it is with everything they’re doing to try to improve the illusion of inclusion.”
“It’s not an illusion and you know it,” Doyle argued. “Just because one team has some issues that’ve gone unchecked doesn’t mean it’s a widespread issue.”
No matter how much I wanted to believe he was right, I wasn’t buying it. Sports were stereotypically a manly man’s sport and much of the world still equated sexuality with masculinity. And the more I thought about it, the more concerned I became that life in most other cities would be even worse.
It wouldn’t take long before word got out that I was gay, and at that point, I’d be even more of a troublemaker. Guys would think I was getting preferential treatment because of who I slept with, even if that wasn’t the case. There was only one place I’d be able to play and feel safe. “Bullshit. There’s only one city that’s proven they’re following through on everything the league has outlined.”
“And they’re happy with their current roster. Do you think they’re going to bump Javier Olson from the roster to make room for you?” he scoffed. Of course, I didn’t expect them to send anyone down. “Face it, PJ, you’re stuck where you are unless you’re ready to hang it up and retire.”
“I won’t accept that,” I insisted. Yesterday had been my day to feel like baseball was a lost cause. Today, thanks to Nate’s support, I was trying to stay positive and believe something would work out. “I don’t give a shit if they sign me and send me down to double-A. I need out of Miami and Milwaukee is the only organization that’s proven to be safe for gay players. Hell, if they’re looking for a bat boy or clubbie, I’ll do that. But I mean it, I’m not going back to Miami.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised me, hanging up without another word. I knew better than to take his curt response personally. Doyle was old-school and we’d been working together since I was sixteen. He’d taken me on as a favor to my dad, and he’d always come through for me, even if it didn’t feel like it at the time.
Even though I knew I should call my dad and catch him up on what was going on, I couldn’t bring myself to talk to anyone else. I pulled out my headset and tossed it onto the dashboard. Nate shifted in the seat, reaching out to me in his sleep. I took his hand in mine and rested them on the console. He sighed softly, giving away no hints that he wasn’t dead to the world.
With him peaceful beside me, I drove straight through rather than stop for lunch. I was anxious to get back to my house, away from the possibility of anyone lurking in the shadows looking for the MIA baseball player.
I hadn’t even pulled into the driveway when I realized it’d been a mistake to rush home. There were lights glowing from the downstairs windows and I knew damn well