Chapter 7 #2
Opening up my browser, I type in Layla’s name again.
The first few searches are her social media pages, and I’m disappointed to find that nearly every single account is private.
Her Instagram, however, is not. Scrolling through, I find virtually no personal information.
Most of it is food-related, a lot of recipes, and she seems to share new-to-her ingredients.
What the fuck is a kumquat? And Romanesco is some kind of broccoli and cauliflower hybrid?
I let out a breath as I chuckle, imagining that’ll undoubtedly make an appearance in a meal soon, as she just shared it last week.
I happen upon a picture of an incredibly fluffy cat, who, Layla says, recently crossed the Rainbow Bridge. She claimed the cat was sixteen, and had been with Layla since she was a teenager.
“Damn,” I mutter. I’ve never been a pet lover myself, but one image of Layla and her cat tells me she loved the feline. I’d imagine the pet dying must have been incredibly hard for her.
I spend the remainder of the flight scrolling through her Instagram, but I find no mention of anyone from either of her previous teams. The way she spoke so negatively about the guy makes me wonder if there was something else going on.
Did he just antagonize her, or did they date?
Was it a bad breakup, or were there unrequited feelings on his part?
Once settled in my hotel room in Dallas, I have a moment of clarity.
Pulling up Layla’s Instagram account again, I check out who she follows.
I’m oddly disappointed she doesn’t follow me, but I rarely use Instagram anyway.
She follows a couple hundred accounts, none of which are baseball-related.
Switching to her followers, a name jumps out at me immediately.
Javier Morales.
The dude is an asshole. There are rumors he’s had multiple women accuse him of a variety of things, but nothing has officially stuck.
Athletes can get away with a lot of things, unfortunately.
Morales must be coated in oil, because everything just slides right off him.
A few years younger than me, he’s jumped teams often in his career.
Fortunately, I’ve never been on the same team as him.
I don’t know why, but I have a feeling he’s the guy Layla had an issue with.
Clicking on his page, I find it as I expect: mostly just not-so-humble bragging about how amazing he thinks he is.
Lots of selfies, muscle flexing, and showing off his expensive cars.
Women in the comments ogling him. I find it peculiar that there are seemingly no negative comments on any old posts, but the one posted today is full of women saying he’s a vile person.
I wonder if he deletes all the negative comments, or if he has someone do it for him.
He’s probably the type of guy who thinks monitoring comments is beneath him.
I do find a post that cements my theory on it being him. Two years ago, right before Atlanta traded him to Houston, he posted an image of a menu, and his comment was, “Food police thinks this is tasty? This is why women need to shut up.”
Oh, I’m going to fucking murder this asshole.
Remembering the team gave us a link with the entire staff’s phone numbers, I find Layla’s, and open up a text.
Me
Found him.
Unknown
Who is this?
Chuckling, I save her contact info, changing her name to Peaches.
Me
You know exactly who this is, Peaches.
Peaches
For fuck’s sake. How did you get this number?
Me
Coaches gave out numbers for everyone. In fact, YOU should have mine already.
Peaches
I do. I just didn’t intend to ever use it.
Me
Aww. Come on. Don’t be mean.
Peaches
What do you want, Max? I’m tired and want to go to bed.
Visions of her asleep next to me crowd my brain, and I’m instantly hard. I wish I’d taken a picture of her, with her blonde hair covering the pillow. Shaking the image from my head, I send her a screenshot of Morales’s profile.
Me
Tell me I’m wrong.
Peaches
I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Me
That’s how you’re going to play this?
Peaches
Max, there is absolutely no reason for you to pursue anything with him. All because I mentioned having to boil an egg for the jerk? Come on! That’s absurd.
Me
I know that’s just the tip of the iceberg, Peaches. Tell me what else he did.
Peaches
No.
Me
But you admit he did other things?
Me
Things that I’ll be pissed about?
Me
LAYLA
Peaches
I’m not enabling this behavior.
Me
Fine.
Me
I’m telling the team. You know we travel to Houston in a couple of weeks, right?
Peaches
If you do that, I’m telling Coach Dunn you refuse to follow my meal plan, and that I’ve caught you eating fast food multiple times on this road series.
Peaches
Don’t threaten me, Max.
Me
Coach won’t bench me.
Peaches
He will if I tell him you called me a derogatory name.
Me
The fuck? What could I possibly call you?
Peaches
Does that fact matter?
Me
It does matter.
Peaches
Sigh. It doesn’t. I would never tell Coach that anyway. I really don’t like to lie, and as much as it pains me to say this, I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would do that.
Me
I wouldn’t. You don’t know me well, Layla, but one thing I can guarantee is that I’m not a chauvinistic pig.
Anyone on this team, and on my previous team, can attest to that.
If it had come down to a he-said-she-said, it wouldn’t have ended well for you, especially when I presented this text exchange as evidence.
Me
I’ve never called a woman a derogatory name. I’ve called men tons of them. Bitch ass, fucktard, asshat, etc. I might be a grumpy bastard, but I treat women with respect. It would behoove you to recognize that now.
Peaches
I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Max.
Peaches
Although really great usage of the word behoove. But please promise me you will NOT go any further with plans to go after Javier.
Me
Why not?
Peaches
Because it’s not important to me. I made peace with that part of my life a long time ago. He was a minor blip, and I refuse to give him any more attention. I really hope you’ll do the same.
Me
So you admit it was Morales.
Peaches
Yes. Please leave it alone.
Me
Related question. What’s a kumquat?
Peaches
It’s like an orange, but you eat the peel. And that’s not even remotely related.
Me
Add that to the “Max won’t eat this” list.
Peaches
You don’t have a list.
Me
Probably a good idea to start one.
Me
Ostrich eggs and kumquats.
Peaches
I have a feeling I’m going to need tabs on this list.
Me
I found this thing called a Crosnes? Yeah, I’m not eating that either.
Peaches
What the hell is that?
Me
I guess it’s a Chinese artichoke, but it looks like a bug, and I draw the line at eating creepy crawlies.
Peaches
Noted.
Peaches
I appreciate the change of topic.
Me
You’re welcome.
Peaches
I didn’t thank you.
Me
But you thought it, didn’t you?
When Layla doesn’t respond, I laugh heartily. Going toe-to-toe with her is fucking fun, and the most enjoyment I’ve had in quite some time.
If only I wouldn’t dream about her every night.