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“I’m not dating Minika.” Javier took a quick, fortifying sip. “I’m gay.”
Chris nodded slowly and finished his drink. When he set the glass down, he said, “I know.”
“You know?” Javier made a noise of confident disbelief. “You didn’t know.”
“I knew.” Chris shrugged. “I’m not a rookie, here. You have a model girlfriend you never see, who shows up to like, one away game a year.”
“Some guys just have that,” Javier argued. “Look at half the guys in New York—”
“Yeah, in New York. Where the models live.” Chris laughed, a smile touching the corners of his eyes despite his grim day. “You’re in Michigan. You talk about her the way a nerd talks about his girlfriend from camp who lives in Canada. Look, I can’t point to one thing that proves that I knew all along, but I had a feeling. I was wondering when you were going to tell me. Although, I would have understood if you never did.”
“Well, hold onto your jock, Thomas, because you’re just the dress rehearsal.” Javier had come to the conclusion that the only way to protect Zach, the only real way to mitigate the damage from Domenic’s impending announcement, was to cover it with a bigger story.
“You’re… coming out? Publicly?” Chris’s booze-reddened eyes widened. “You realize that only one player has done that while he was still playing?”
“I know.” Javier tried to act nonchalant about it, but under the table, his knee bounced like crazy. “And it didn’t work out so great for him.”
“And it’s bound to work out a lot less great for you,” Chris said. “You’re, well...you’re…”
“Venezuelan?” Javier finished for him. “It’s not an insult.”
“Sorry,” Chris said quickly, without conditions. “I know you already deal with bigoted people. Being Latino in baseball isn’t unusual, but being an out gay Latino making millions off America’s game? Do you know how people are going to treat you?”
“Yeah, they’re going to treat me the way they treated you after last season,” Javier shot back.
Chris pointed an index finger at him. “I may be drunk, but I will fight you.”
“I think I know better than you do how bigots are going to treat me.” Javier sipped his drink, then folded his hands on the tabletop. “I have to do it. You know how you want to rescue Maggie?”
Chris nodded and motioned to the waitress again before Javier could cut him off.
He let it slide. “Well, I’m in love. With a guy I used to date. After we broke up, he dated this epic douchebag, and this guy is going to out him.”
“He can’t do that. Is this guy a player? Does he have an agent? A lawyer?” The way Chris leaped to Zach’s defense, without ever knowing who he was sticking up for, was kind of cool.
Javier didn’t want to disclose too much information. “I can’t tell you everything because it’s not my place to tell. This ex is a big-time Hollywood guy. He’s going to write a book and give these interviews, and when he does, he’s going to tell them that he was in a relationship with a pro ballplayer.”
“And you think that if you come out, no one will figure out it’s him.” Chris put the pieces together pretty well, for a drunk. “That’s a big commitment to make. What does he think?”
“He doesn’t know.” Javier wondered if he should tell him. Would it be worth it to tell, if Zach would beg him not to do it? No, this was Javier’s information to disclose, nobody else’s. “It’s not up to him. This is something everyone needs to decide on their own.”
“If you do this, everything is going to change, man,” Chris warned.
“Would you do it for Maggie?” Javier asked.
Chris raised his hands in silent defeat.
Javier smiled, in spite of the seriousness of the night. “Congratulations. You’re getting married. I can’t believe it.”
“I can’t, either.” Chris laughed. “You’ll be my best man, right?”
Javier’s shocked laughter stuttered out. “Wow. Absolutely. Yes. Yes, I will be your best man.”
Chris took the two fresh glasses from the waitress and held up his for a toast. “To women and men who are worth risking our jobs for.”
They clinked their glasses, and for the first time all day, the burning sensation in Javier’s stomach eased. That wasn’t from the alcohol, he knew that much. It was a release of stress at the realization that everything was going to be alright. No matter what happened, everything was going to be alright. Maybe it wouldn’t work out the way he wanted it to, but it would work out.
* * * *
Standing in the door to his study, Javier studied Zach. He sat behind the desk, his laptop open, face grim. He’d stayed over the last few nights, not really talking about Domenic or his mounting anxiety over the impending interview. He didn’t need to; it was written into every line on his face.
