49. FRANKIE
FORTY-NINE
FRANKIE
What a fucking day. Meeting after meeting, none of which had been previously scheduled.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean my assignments don’t still need to get done.
I ended up staying late on a Friday night—which should be illegal, yet it’s something that’s extremely common in my line of work.
As much as it sucks to work late, I’ll at least still be able to catch most of Jackson’s game.
I haven’t been able to take a breath all day, so I finally unlock my phone and head for the parking garage.
I frown. I have fifteen missed calls. And—my eyes go wide—fifty text messages.
My pulse teeters for a moment, then takes off.
I scroll through my notifications. Missed calls from Jackson, Pao Pao, Shane, Maddy. I hurry out to my car and freeze.
A man is leaning against my car, arms crossed.
“Maddy?”
His head snaps up, and the look he shoots me terrifies me. His expression is tight; even from this distance, his gaze is sad.
“W-what the fuck is going on?” Was there an accident? Is someone hurt? Oh God, is someone dead?
He walks up to me and grips my shoulders. My stomach tightens, ready for the blow.
“First, everyone is fine. I can see every possibility going through your head. There’s just been, ah, some shocking news. When you weren’t responding, I figured I’d head here after work and meet you rather than wait until you got home.”
I draw in a breath that isn’t nearly sufficient, but my lungs won’t let me have the oxygen I so desperately need. “Okay, what’s going on then?”
Maddy’s fingers tighten. “Jackson’s been traded.”
My heart punches me straight in the sternum.
My knees shake and wobble precariously. Before I know it, I’ve been moved to my car, and I gladly collapse against it.
“Traded?” I whisper. I drop my briefcase and slump even lower against my car.
Maddy’s grimace deepens. “Yeah, Frank. He’s been traded to Berkeley.”
My gut bottoms out.
He’s been traded…to California. He’s going to be across the country from me.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I hiss.
This can’t be happening right now. Everything was going so well. Everything was fucking perfect. We were finally going to have it all. And just like that, baseball rips it away.
“When does he leave?” I choke out.
Maddy pulls me into a hug, his arms cinching around me.
But it’s not comfort that settles around me. It’s doom.
“He’s already gone,” he whispers.
I knew it. I knew it before he said the words.
“How is that possible?” I ask faintly. I push Maddy away and start pacing in rhythm with my frantic heartbeat. “Don’t they have to give him time to pack? Jesus, to breathe?”
“These things can happen really fast. Especially when big league spots need to be filled. I mean, there was that game when Seranthony Domínguez was traded mid-doubleheader. He just walked across the field to play for the other team in the second game.”
I glare at him. I don’t want logic and facts right now. I don’t want any of this right now. Fuck.
“He’s starting in tomorrow night’s game. For Berkeley, Frank.”
I pace by him. “Did he even get to take his things? Holy fucking shit. Where’s he going to live when he gets out there?” God, he doesn’t know anyone out there. He’s going to be completely alone. No no no. No. This is not okay.
“He’s got the essentials, gear. I mean, you saw how little he has last night… There wasn’t much to bring.”
Yeah, the stuff he hadn’t even unpacked yet. He’d just officially moved in with me. My heart splinters. We were going to have everything.
“Most young players pretty much live out of suitcases because this is the name of the game,” Maddy says. “The Clippers will ship out the things he couldn’t take with him.”
I flip open my phone and tap Jackson’s text thread.
Jackson
Hey, babe. Call me when you see this.
Frankie, call me.
It’s urgent, babe.
My chest seizes.
Jackson
Shit, Frank. Please see this. Call me.
I’m at the airport, babe. I didn’t want to tell you this through text. God, I hope you see this soon. My plane boards in half an hour.
Fuck. I have to turn off my phone. I got traded. I’m supposed to get in around 1 your time. Stay up for me? I need to hear your voice. I love you.
My eyes burn. “Fuck!”
I can’t believe I missed all his calls and texts. I slam my palm against my car. I have never been more livid with myself. I can’t even imagine how he’s feeling right now. The devastation I’m feeling? Amplify that by fear and anxiety. He’d finally found his place, his home. Me.
I quickly punch out a reply.
Me
I love you too, Jackie. Of course I’ll wait up for you.
I pocket my phone and run my hand through my hair, blowing out a breath.
“You okay, Frankie?” Maddy eyes me, forehead wrinkled.
“I mean, not even fucking close, Madz. But all I care about right now is Jackson. In a matter of hours, his entire life got turned upside down, and he got shipped out across the country. Alone. New team. No family. No friends. No place to live.”
“His agent is working through logistics. He’ll be put up in a temporary spot. But yeah, I imagine he’s terrified. Not to mention the anxiety of playing his first major league game tomorrow.”
His first major league…
I frown at Maddy. For Berkeley, Frank. I had thought…I had just thought he meant Berkeley’s Triple-A team.
Holy fucking shit. He made it. God, his dream is coming true.
This is the worst-best news I’ve ever heard.
“This isn’t how this is going to happen.”
Maddy cocks his head. “I…am not following.”
I whip out my phone and pull up the internet browser.
I glance at Maddy. “That man has had no one in his corner his entire life. He finally got to feel what it’s like to have a family.
You, East, Shane, Paulie, Jed, me.” I look back at my phone and tap away furiously.
“When family needs you, you drop everything to be there for them.”
“What are you going to do, Frank?”
“I’m going to California. You better believe I’ll be waiting for him when he finishes his first big league game.”
My phone dings, and I dive for it. Except…
I can’t fucking find it. I let out an outraged growl and start throwing clothes.
It’s in this mess somewhere. My room looks like a tornado.
I may have packed a little more…vigorously than was necessary.
But my heart hasn’t slowed down since Maddy told me the news.
I booked myself the earliest flight I could find.
Which is leaving Boston at 8 a.m. Which means I need to be at the airport at 6 a.m. Which means I need to leave here at five. And right now, it’s…
“Aha!” I found the bastard. I click on my phone, and my shoulders sag. It’s 1:30 in the morning. I snap straight. It’s fine. I’ve totally got this. If I don’t stop moving, I’ll be fine.
I tap to Jackson’s text thread.
Jackson
Just landed. You still up?
I hastily type a reply.
Me
The doubt. It hurts, loverboy.
My phone rings.
I click to make it a video call. Who does this boy think he is?
Jackson’s face fills my screen—and my heart squeezes painfully tight. Dark circles line his bloodshot eyes, his lids dragging so low they look like they’re fighting a losing battle to stay open. Bone-deep exhaustion edged with hopelessness stares back at me.
“Dolcezza,” I whisper.
Those blue eyes well up.
“Baby, no. This is going to be okay.”
His lips press tight, whitening at the corners. God dammit. I wish I were there.
“None of that,” I say firmly. “You’re playing in your first major league game tomorrow.
It’s happening for you, Jackson. This is your moment.
I’m so. Damn. Proud of you. All I want you to worry about is resting up and recharging and then walking out on that field tomorrow—Dear Lord, tonight—and fucking killing it. ”
He still doesn’t seem capable of words.
“Jackson, it’s going to be okay. One day at a time, babe.”
“I’m all the way across the country, Frank.” His voice is rough with disuse, or maybe strain. There’s defeat in it. A defeat that’s a kick to the gut.
I wave a hand and laugh—albeit hysterically, because I am starting to lose my mind from overtiredness. “Oh, that. That’s nothing. Just a quick redeye. No big deal.”
“So quick and so inexpensive,” he mumbles.
Yeah. Last-minute flights are not cheap. “Good thing you’re dating a hotshot actuary.” I wink. “I’m basically your sugar daddy.”
That gets a huff of laughter out of him.
He scrubs a hand down his face. I catch the sight of what looks like a baggage carousel behind his seat.
Hopefully, he can get his stuff soon and get to his hotel.
He needs to rest before he has to report to the clubhouse.
Before he meets an entirely new coaching staff.
A new team. With no idea what the atmosphere or vibe will be like.
Ave fucking Maria.
“I, uh, think I might be your sugar daddy now,” he says with a weak smile. “As long as they actually keep me up here.”
Ah, yes. He’s making the big boy league minimum now.
If I’m remembering right, I think it’s approaching eight hundred grand.
It’ll be prorated based on how much he plays, but considering what minor league players make…
I know how much Pao Pao makes, and let’s just say it’s less than forty grand for the year, which is why those boys live with me and pay utilities only.
It won’t take many days for Jackson to surpass that.
“See, you can fly your sexy boyfriend over to see you whenever your little heart desires.”
The right side of his mouth hooks up, but his eyes stay sad. “You know it’s not that simple. Even when I was practically living with you, our time was limited. Odd hours after night games, taking advantage of rainouts. Now we have a seven-hour flight between us.”
“Nope. Shush. We are not having this discussion while we’re both exhausted. We’ll talk about this in person. After you’ve had such an incredible first game in the majors that the Jetties’ owner is crying in his office for making the worst trade of his life.”
He grins, but then it goes stiff. His brows crash together. “We’ll talk about this in person?” he asks hoarsely. “After my game?”
I nod, biting my lip against a grin. “My flight leaves in a few hours. So, I’ma need your hotel info, loverboy. Make sure you leave my name at reception so I can get a keycard.”
His features tighten, and then he drops out of view. All I can see is the floor as the phone shakes slightly.
“Jackson?” an alarmed voice rings through the speaker. “Jackson, what’s wrong?”
Um. Who the fuck is that?
The screen swirls violently, and then I’m face to face with—dear God. Who is this beautiful specimen, and why the fuck is he with my boyfriend?
His frown instantly morphs into a smile. “Ah, Frankie—the boyfriend. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Yeah. So, I’m not in the habit of loving when my boyfriend is with gorgeous men I don’t know anything about. Though you are really pretty. So, I can see why he was tempted.”
A deep chuckle fills my room. Ugh, even his laugh is sexy. All right. Who is this Nicholas Galitzine look-a-like.
“I’m Chuck Wentworth, Jackson’s agent.”
“Jackson,” I say loudly. “I have a bone to pick with you. You never once mentioned how hot your agent is.”
Chuck chuckles again. Oh dear. Chuck chuckles. How many chuckles could a chuckling Chuck chuckle… Ohmygod I have lost my mind. I’m really fucking tired.
Everything spins, and then Jackson’s face is on the screen again. His smile is big and genuine this time, but tear tracks stain his cheeks. My heart tries desperately to teleport through the phone to him. My poor baby. I can’t even imagine how overtired and emotionally drained he is after today.
“Well, I’m glad you have this Adonis with you. It makes me feel a hell of a lot better that you’re not alone. Though I’d have preferred him to be butt ugly.”
Jackson’s grin widens. Winning!
“So…you’re really coming here?” His tone is so hopeful, and he’s so much like a little Newfoundland puppy I’m slightly afraid the organ in my chest is going to explode.
“Yeah, loverboy. My flight should land sometime before noon your time.”
A throat clears off camera, and then Chuck’s voice fills my room. “Jackson, why don’t you get me Frankie’s contact information? I’ll make sure he has all the information he needs so you don’t need to think about anything but the game tomorrow.”
Jackson nods, and the small flash of excitement from before is overtaken by exhaustion again.
“Thank you, Chuck. But also…why exactly are you with Jackson? I’m no expert, but I didn’t think this was something agents typically did for their clients. There’s not much to negotiate, is there? Call-ups get the league minimum.”
Jackson glances off screen then back at me. “He, ah, is meeting with the GM and the PR department.”
Oooh. Unease prickles over my skin.
“Is that a…good idea still? Should you wait until you’ve established some rapport with the franchise?”
The Jetties were already familiar with Jackson and his dedication and talent. All Berkeley sees right now are his stats. Not to mention the Jetties have a queer man on their roster with Stone. They’re a known ally.
“Couldn’t they choose to DFA him…”
If they’re bigots. If they don’t want the firestorm that will come from having a gay man on their roster.
If he gets designated for assignment, he could be claimed by another team—or end up back in the minors.
It makes him vulnerable. It could end up as a giant game of ping-pong with Jackson being tossed from team to team.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Chuck says from offscreen. “However, Berkeley is an extremely progressive and inclusive city. There is nothing this city will love more than a queer superstar in the making to champion.”
“You’re…going to sell them on it,” I say slowly as I mull it over.
Jackson’s shoulders creep up toward his ears, proving he’s not so certain how well this plan will work. “Apparently, Chuck thinks he can sell them on the fact that I’ll be good for ticket sales.”
“Essentially, yes,” Chuck says bluntly. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it.
Money is what’s most important to these people.
Fans in seats. The plan is still the same—Jackson will only be privately out.
But if it were to get out, we will have a plan in place to handle it immediately.
One that will make the owner’s bottom line happy. ”
Damn. This guy is good; I’ll give him that. He’s a shark…disguised as a Greek god. My attention sharpens on Jackson. I don’t think he heard a word of what Chuck just said; he’s disappeared somewhere inside himself. He’s fading fast.
“Okay,” I say. “Enough chit-chat. Get him to his hotel and to bed—well, not literally. If you get him in bed, I will cut you. But we can talk more about this tomorrow.”
Chuck laughs again. “Noted.”
“Jackie,” I say softly.
His gaze slowly focuses on mine like he’s coming out of a trance.
“I love you. I can’t wait to see you step out on the field. Make me proud, dolcezza.”
His lips tilt up. “Love you too.”