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"You taking batting practice today?" Taylor asked as Zach hauled his bag to his locker. It would have been nice to get a spot next to Taylor, but the manager made clubhouse arrangements based on what he thought would be best, and Zach wasn't one to argue with the skipper.
He nodded and pried his shoes off with a toe against each heel. "Got the all-clear yesterday. Just do me a favor, don't hold today against me. I haven't had a bat in my hands since last season."
"And you guys didn't go that far," a voice pointed out helpfully from across the room. "At least, not as far as we did."
"And we didn't go as far as the Cowboys, either," Taylor shot back with a laugh.
The hair on the back of his neck standing up, Zach turned to face Javier Vargas, catcher, possibly the love of Zach's life, if someone demanded the truth under pain of death and Zach particularly felt like living that day. "Hey man, haven't seen you in a while."
"Nope, don't get out to Portland all that much." Javier smiled, but the expression didn't reach his warm brown eyes. It was a lie, the Bengals played Portland just as often as they played all the other teams. But that wasn't what Javier had meant, and they both knew it. He was saying there was nothing in Portland interesting enough to make him visit. “I heard this crazy rumor that you were living in L.A. during your downtime.”
“Yeah, that’s where I… it’s where my better-half lives.” He shrugged and cleared his throat. “You know how it is.”
“Yeah, I know what you’re saying.” Javier pulled his cap on. “Get a piece of your cake, before these jackals eat it up.”
“I really wasn’t expecting a cake.” In fact, it was kind of embarrassing, showing up after a stupid injury to find your name in frosting.
Taylor laughed ruefully. “The new owner’s assistant has this weird idea that everything should be celebrated with cake. It’s driving the trainers nuts, you should see how much weight some of the guys are putting on.”
There was a companionable silence that turned uncomfortable. Javier slid his sunglasses on and said, “Well… see you guys out there.”
Zach could feel Taylor’s stare as Javier left. It was pretty bad when it only took a five-second conversation to put all the awkwardness between them on display. Quietly, Taylor asked, “So… you guys didn’t get along in Portland, huh?”
They’d gotten along too well, but that was definitely not clubhouse talk. “You could say that. It’s not going to cause a problem, though. We’re both big boys.”
That promise sounded hollow, even to his own ears. It wasn’t until he onto the field that he felt like he could breathe again. Surrounded by his teammates, some friends, some strangers, all wearing the Bengals practice jersey while a few fans watched from the empty stands, and he didn’t feel like he’d really missed anything at all. The only thing turning down his exhilaration a notch was the fact that Javier was there, and both of them were being careful, too aware of each other on the field in a definite attempt to avoid talking.
“Baird, you’re up,” Ken Holmes called. Then, he narrowed his eyes as they landed on Zach. “When I saw you on my roster today, I gotta tell you, I was relieved. It’s good to have you with us finally.”
Zach couldn’t help but grin at the old man’s words. He’d only met the team manager briefly, in the thick of the deal, when general manager Casey Morgan hadn’t yet totally convinced Zach to leave Portland. A large part of Zach’s decision had been based on the leadership the grizzled veteran Holmes had promised. “Any chance I’ll play today?”
“No sir,” Holmes immediately shot him down.
“I did my sixty days,” he pointed out. “More than. They’ve got me down as day-to-day, right?”
“They’ve got you down as day-to-day, but I don’t listen to the DL, I listen to the trainers. Medical wants you riding the bench tonight.” Holmes turned to the batter in the box. The conversation was clearly closed, not to be revisited. “You ready, Baird?”
Zach tried hard to suppress his disappointment as he walked away. When the skipper called out to him again, his spirits momentarily lifted. Until Holmes said, “Why don’t you grab Vargas and do some fielding drills?”
It would have to be Vargas. He nodded and gave a tight smile. Javier had overheard the command, as well, and though his mouth barely moved, Zach knew he’d sworn under his breath. He wanted to shout, “Hey, I don’t want to be around you any more than you want to be around me,” but that wasn’t exactly the old team spirit. He couldn’t come in as the new guy, the injured liability, and start a fight with the player everyone probably liked.
