Tatum
Tobias sleptthrough the worst of his withdrawals, and once the last of the shows in Tallahassee closed out, I had to admit I was happy to be back on the road.
We left Mike, the withdrawal nurse Ruby had put us in touch with, in Florida with agood luckand a contact number in case we needed him in the future. He was good people, and I’d studied the recovery resources he left with us like it was an exam that would determine the rest of my life.
Calix had handled the situation with his usual churlish flare for alienating everyone around him.
While we’d been distracted with Toby, I’d noticed a shift between Harvey and Otis.
For one thing, there had been no protest when we’d decided to clear all alcohol and drugs out of the bus. Otis seemed to be somewhere closer to the man I first met, while Harvey had withdrawn. Instead of being the first to needle Calix or give anopinion just to get a reaction, he had taken to sitting quietly at the front of the bus, practicing on his guitar or scribbling in a notebook. As far as I was aware, Harvey wasn’t usually much of a songwriter, but the dynamic of the entire band seemed to have shifted recently, so who knew?
As the bus pulled into another parking lot that we would call home for the length of time we were in Atlanta, I slipped into the seat beside him.
“We’re going out this afternoon,” I said without waiting for acknowledgement.
“Where?”
“Somewhere fun.” I grinned at his confused look and headed toward the back of the bus to find some comfortable shoes.
“This is your idea of fun?”Harvey looked around the huge indoor space, cataloging the webbed netting that separated each of the cages, the pitching machines, the gloves, and wooden bats and helmets for hire decorating the walls like trophies.
“Have you ever been to a batting cage before?” I asked lightly, smiling at the woman behind the desk.
“I can’t say that I have. It looks dangerous.”
I laughed. “That’s why you wear protective gear. Come on, didn’t you play baseball as a kid?”
“Not when I could help it.”
I refused to be discouraged by his reticence, so I gave my attention to the woman who handed over two helmets, two bats, and two pairs of gloves, then directed us to the nearest cage.
We started with slow pitches, getting the feel for the pace and angle of the machine. The first time Harvey’s hit connected, he grinned like he’d won the World Series.
It occurred to me that we’d probably grown up very differently. My dad had taken me to baseball games religiously every summer. My heroes were my contemporaries in college ball, like Farrah Hall and Cami Morales.
Harvey didn’t seem to have the same kind of memories.
After a few balls, Harvey tapped out, arguing he’d prefer to go out on the win and watch the master get her ass kicked by a machine.
He seemed lighter here, away from the others. As I wound up and felt the solid connection of bat and ball, I wondered again what he was carrying, and if he’d trust me enough to open up about it.
My shoulders burned, muscles that had long gone unused waking up in the way that only comes with deeply ingrained memory. I lost myself in the rhythm. Swing. Hit. Swing. Hit.
“Can you go faster?” Harvey asked, eyeing the dial on the pitching machine.
“Hell yes.” He stepped toward the nets, ready to help with the speed, but I stopped him with a quick gesture. “No, I need to—Oof.” I cut off with a grunt of pain as the next ball connected with my shoulder, unaware of my distraction.
Harvey swore, making another move to enter the nets.
“Don’t. That was my fault. Maybe it’s time we stopped for lunch.” I gave him a weak smile, rubbing my throbbing shoulder as I met him outside the nets and walked toward the hot dog van out the front of the venue. He hesitated but fell into step beside me as I greeted the man and ordered two hotdogs with cola.
“I don’t eat this stuff,” he grumbled as we climbed up and sat on the picnic table set up beside the van.
“What, hot dogs and soda?” I asked, slurping the sugary bubbles up my straw.
“It’s fattening.”
I let my eyes wander over his lean frame. “I don’t think you have a problem. Besides, you exercise religiously. It’s actually why I thought you’d like this. You seem like a sporty kind of guy.”
