Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
ROYCE
“First thing you need to know is that there are bases on the field,” Jake says, his voice slow as if he were talking to a preschool class. “See how it makes a pretty diamond shape.”
He holds up an illustration of the Jays' field and points to each base individually. I roll my eyes as Finn and Timothy snicker from across the table.
“I don't need to be taught like a kindergartner, brother dear. I merely asked for your help since you were so good at learning hockey.”
Jake scoffs. “Yeah, but I studied it for years. It is my favorite sport. Of course, I acquired a hockey team. You just decided you liked baseball out of the blue.”
I hold up my hand. “I didn't say I liked it.”
Finn’s hands slap against his cheeks. “Oh no! You don't like it at all? Maybe you shouldn't be the manager. I bet I could do it. Daddy would totally let me, right?”
He whips his head to Timothy, who stares wide-eyed. The other man nods, then stops and shakes his head. “I don't know that your Daddy would let you do that, Finn. I think that Royce is the best fit for this.”
I dip my head. “Thank you. I appreciate your confidence in me. I am a capable business owner.”
My tone at the last part is directed to my brother.
Jake grumbles, then flips through several pages of this notebook he's created.
I should have known when it said Baseball 101 on the front that he was going to take this too far.
When I called him a couple days ago and asked for a quick rundown of everything to refresh my memory since life had been chaotic, I expected him to maybe want to drink a beer and sit around and talk.
Instead, he recruited his assistant and our other brother-in-law to come along for this adventure. I would consider it a torture session.
Jake Bellport, my younger brother, is a handful.
For as long as I can remember, which is his entire existence, he has been mischievous.
If there was trouble to get up to, he was getting into it.
I'd often catch myself in scenarios with him.
Sometimes just to spend time with him and other times because I was bored out of my mind.
Being smarter than a lot of the people around you often led to idle hands.
Though we're not religious, I’d heard about the whole ‘devil's handiwork’ thing.
I digress.
Focusing on Jake, I see he's finally stopping on a page. "Aha!" he shouts, holding the image out to me. “This is probably one of the most important pieces. It's the roster for the team. You're going to want to get to know these guys like the back of your hand.”
I nod, pulling paper closer to me. Jake lets it go, and I run my eyes over the page. “I actually already know quite a bit of this. Kenny keeps a detailed list in his office.”
“Kenny,” Timothy says, his voice curious.
Jake hums. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure his name is Kenneth. Since when is he Kenny?”
I shrug, not looking up from the page. I know three sets of eyes are on me, and I don't have the energy to fight them off with some misdirection. It should be easy considering all three of them are littles and one stern word would have them turning away.
“It's what everyone calls him. What am I supposed to do? Be different?”
Finn giggles. “But you are different, Royce. In the best way possible. Meeting you helped me realize that it was okay to be who I wanted to be. To have my Daddy. You're an inspiration.”
That gets me to look up. As much as I pretend to have my shit together, there are still times when I can be self-conscious.
They're very few and far between. Usually it's when I'm wearing a new outfit I'm not quite sure matches perfectly, or one of those horrible days where my hair decides the humidity of this state should win.
Curse you Louisiana weather.
“I appreciate the kind word, Finn. If I helped you embrace all the parts of you, then I'm honored. And now you're family. You're a Bellport. No one can say shit to you about being different unless they want to piss us all off.”
Finn nods. “Exactly. So if you want to call him Kenneth, you should be able to.”
I frown as his words sink in. I walked right into that one.
Jake's gaze analyzes me. I know all of the different looks he has. This one spells trouble for me. Might not be now.
Might not even be soon. But eventually this conversation will come up again.
Clearing my throat, I turn the page. “What else is in here? I need more stuff to help me make sense of everything. The business side of this is easy. It's the sports I don't understand.”
“What don't you understand?” Timothy asks in his assistant voice. I notice he also has a pen and paper before him like he was going to take meeting notes.
Jake doesn't realize how lucky he is to have someone as dedicated as him at his side.
“I’m talking about the fixation on the sport,” I tell them.
“People treat this game like it's a cult.
I mean, I have been to fashion weeks in Paris that haven't had this much chaos behind it.
Millions of people are screaming at their televisions demanding that a team plays better.
They call it America's pastime for a reason, and I'm trying to understand that.”
Timothy jots down notes as Finn bobs his head. “I don't want to admit that I'm part of a cult, but I can see how it looks from the outside. Sports fans are pretty intense.”
Jake chooses that moment to whistle and avert his eyes. We all know just how intense he can be, especially when his men are playing, and I say his men but really, it's his team.
I mean the man loved hockey enough to bring his two favorite players and build an entire team around that fact. Not to mention those players are now his partners.
“You don't have anything to say, brother dear?” I poke him in the side where I know he's most ticklish.
Jake shrieks and scoots away from me. His brow dips as he shakes his head.
“You all know how much I love hockey. Baseball is different, but not so much so in that it's not idolized by people.
I mean, it's still pretty cool. Those guys hit baseballs that fly at them at like a bajillion miles an hour and then they have to run all the bases.
Sometimes they get to slide in real cool and get all dirty.
Mom would have a fit if we'd done that as kids.”
“We did do that as kids,” I remind him. “In fact, I believe there were more days you were dirty than clean. How many times were we preparing to go to a banquet, and you had to go get hosed down before getting in the shower?”
Jake leans back. “How dare you?! If I do recall, there were many a time when you had make-up experiments go wrong that had to be corrected. You were lucky our mother is a saint.”
“That she is,” comes the deep baritone of my father's voice. I look up to see him stepping into the living room where we've spread out with all of our baseball paraphernalia and charts.
He looks around with a smile. It's subtle, much like everything my father does.
When people look up the word nonchalant in the dictionary, they would find a picture of him there because he is absolutely the most carefree person I know.
Even when he's having a business meeting where he needs to be focused and intense, there's a calmness to it.
A stillness no one else has. I have idolized him since I understood what was going on around me.
My mother has been soft and loving, but she's also driven. It's in her to be the absolute best.
It's why the Bellport Foundation is as big as we are. Why she raised four children who strive to bring even more to the community. But my father, the man that he is, is the one who truly taught me about work ethic in a way I don't think you could ever learn without observing someone intently.
“What's happening, Dad? Everything okay?” I ask.
Curious as to why we're seeing him. Usually, he's busy with meetings or keeping up with the laundry list of things my mother has him do until dinnertime. For him to be out and about is only troublesome.
He waves his hand in my direction. “There's nothing to worry about. I knew you were coming over and just wanted to come see you. It's rare that we get a Royce visit these days.”
I pause, thinking about that fact. I guess it's true. Between my businesses, the side work I do, and now the baseball team, my free time has been cut to nothing. Maybe that's why Kenny, or rather, Kenneth, is getting under my skin.
“Sorry about that. I didn't even realize I'd been absent. I'll have to come by more. Maybe do a couple of dinners a week if you're up for it.”
Dad smiles. “I’m always up for it. I love having my children here.”
“Oh Dad, I love you too!”
Jake’s voice is all high-pitched and sweet. We've always said it's his baby voice because it took him forever to grow out of it. Even now, his voice isn't as deep as my brother’s or mine when I intentionally changed my tone.
“Whatever you're going to say next, save it for your mother when she sweeps through here in a little bit. I do not want to get tangled up in whatever terror you're about to reign, son.”
Jake blinks several times in a row, then bursts into laughter. He falls back on the carpet holding his stomach. Finn and Timothy last all of two seconds before they follow him.
With the three littles giggling uncontrollably, I decide it's time for a break. "I'm gonna go make everyone snacks," I announce. That gets them to pause for a moment, then it's back to the giggling.
“Come on, Dad. Let's leave them to their moment of fun,” I say, motioning down the hall. He nods, looking happy to be given the chance to have me alone for a moment.
When we're in the kitchen, I start going through the pantry for all the different snacks I know Bellamy keeps here for Finn. My eldest sibling is nothing if not prepared.
Extensively so. Anywhere he spends more than a couple of times a year has a special cabinet space dedicated to anything and everything Finn would need.
I would say that he's spoiled, but I feel like I would do the same for whatever special person showed up in my life.
It's how you show you care. Those little moments, those little details that you pick up on that truly make it so that the other person knows you understand them.
It's beautiful, and I'm so happy that all three of my siblings—my sister Carmen included—have found people to create that environment for them.
Once I have all the snacks laid out on a tray, I lean back against the counter and cross my arms.
“So what do you want to talk about?” I ask, my tone neutral so that he doesn't feel like he's under attack in any way. That's not what this is. I just want to know what's going on with him.
Dad moves around the island of the kitchen to stand across from me. He leans back much in the same way I'm positioned and then tilts his head. “I really did just want to come see you. I know you have more on your plate than you did before.”
He pauses, his head shaking slowly as his wrinkles appear on his forehead.
“Royce, I don't know how you do it all. Your mother and I navigate a million and one foundation events and appearances along with business stuff, but you, my child, have built an industry all your own.”
My arms drop to my sides. “What do you mean?”
The look he gives me reminds me of all the chaos Jake and I got up to.
While Mom could definitely keep us disciplined, there were times Dad had to step in.
And when he did, I always felt like the lowest of the low.
If you could be out of line enough for him to need to discipline you, then you'd really fucked up.
“What do you mean, Dad?” I repeat when he doesn't answer me.
“I mean that I know exactly what you do, Royce. I've known all the things that you've dabbled in since the beginning.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. I could not let any of my children venture out into the great wide world without some kind of supervision. Whether it's me keeping tabs on you for safety or simply because I want to be there to help you should you need it."
“Wow! I can't believe it,” I admit.
To think I had thought I was keeping everything so secret all this time. That I was the big bad sneaky Royce when all along my father knew… which means, of course, my mother probably knows as well. The two can't keep secrets from each other.
“I promise I'm okay. It's busy, but I'm good.”
Dad pauses for a moment longer, then nods. He pulls me into a brief hug. I bask in the embrace. It makes me feel like a kid all over again.
“I love you, and I'm beyond proud of you. If you need anything at all, I'm here.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I lift the tray and make my way back into the living room with the littles.