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“Really. I want those things too, Max. And you can sit next to me on the plane or the bus or wherever you want. We still need to be careful around Roger and general management. But if anyone asks, I’m not going to lie.”
“Sutton,” he breathes, his hand cupping my cheek as he presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I –”
The ill-timed ringing of my cell phone cuts him off, and any other time I would ignore it, but it’s my Roger ringtone – a short audio clip of Tom Hanks intoning “Houston, we’ve had a problem.” The Roger ringtone is never a good sign. It’s the clock striking twelve.
“Hey Roger,” I answer and throw Max my best ‘I’m so sorry’ eyes. “What’s up?”
“I need you back at the hotel as soon as possible. Gathering the coaches for a meeting. How soon can you be here?”
“How soon can we get back?” I press my phone to my chest, hoping that Roger won’t hear Max’s response.
“We can walk there in twenty.”
“Twenty,” I tell Roger, and this seems to satisfy him.
“We’ll start as soon as you get here.”
After ending the call with Roger, I pocket my phone once more and apologize profusely to Max as he grabs my hand and we make our way to the bank of elevators and we ride down slowly to the street level.
“Don’t be sorry,” Max says as we start down the sidewalkin the direction of the hotel. “I had a great time with you today. I’m only sorry we couldn’t end the day with pizza.”
“Next time.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Max and I walk hand in hand down the sidewalk as we make our way back to the hotel, a slight chill has set in and it’s starting to spit rain. When we’re about a block from the hotel that drizzle becomes a downpour, cold and soaking me to the bone. Max pulls me close and wraps an arm around my shoulders, warming me up as much as he can. When the hotel is in sight, he stops and spins me into his chest, dropping a kiss on my lips.
“What was that for?” I ask, my hands gripping his biceps.
“For luck in the meeting. To say thank you. For whatever you want it to be. But this is goodbye. Walk in ahead of me and go to your meeting.”
“Thank you, Maxwell.” Cupping the back of his neck, I draw him down for a kiss. Raindrops drip from his unfairly beautiful eyelashes as he crashes his lips to mine.
“Go get ‘em coach.”
Leaving Max on the sidewalk behind me, I kick into a light jog, careful of the rain slick sidewalk before turning into the front entrance of the hotel. I know Roger and the coaches are waiting for me, but I’m freezing and I’m soaked through from the rain, so I make myself a cup of tea from the cart in the lobby before joining Roger and the guys at a table in the back corner of the dimly lit hotel bar.
“Get caught in the rain, Davis?” Jose grins at me.
“Sure did. I was out most of the day and didn’t realize we were supposed to get any rain.”
“Well, you’re here now,” Roger says with a note of finality in his voice. “Let’s get started. I have some decisions to be made, and I want everyone’s input.”
April is still early enough in the season that everyone is finding their place on the team, their groove in their position, and finding their swing in the batter’s box. With some players, it makes sense to keep them in the big club and let them tough it out, others however are better served from time spent with the minor league affiliate.
“I’d like to option Sanchez to Tacoma, and call up Wilson to take his place. But before I do, give me your arguments for or against.”
Roger does nothing by half measures, and he never makes a decision that could impact the entire team without input from his staff. I’m still finding my voice in these meetings, but since Sanchez is 0-for-the-month-of-April, I have no trouble speaking up.
“We need someone in the lineup that can hit the ball, and Sanchez hasn’t been doing that. I like Wilson’s numbers with Tacoma and think he’d be a good fit to round out the batting order.
Roger nods, and I go back to sitting silently as the rest of the coaches offer their input. By the end of the meeting, it’s decided that someone has to break the news to Sanchez that he won’t be participating in our series with The Rogue.
It’s another hour and a half before I’m in the elevator and heading to my room on the third floor. I drop my bag just inside the door and strip out of my soaking wet clothes and take a long, hot shower, before crawling into bed and falling asleep thinking of kisses in the rain with the man of my dreams.
Our New York road trip ends on a high note as we sweep the series with the Rogue before heading back to the west coast. We have a series in Anaheim before heading home, and Anaheim isn’t exactly my favorite place to visit. Sure, the stadium is nice, it’s almost always sunny – nearly perfectbaseball weather, everytime we’re there – and there’s a little dive bar near our usual team hotel that makes the best tacos al pastor.
What I don’t like about Anaheim is their lack of accommodation. My “room” for the series will be a small supply closet halfway between the home and visitor’s clubhouses. At least I have access to a restroom with a toilet and running water if I need it. For now though, I’m on the plane, Max is next to me, and all is right with my world.
