54. JACKSON
FIFTY-FOUR
JACKSON
A hand settles on my thigh and squeezes lightly. I glance to my left, and Frankie sends me a comforting smile. We’re sitting at a round table in a conference room, Chuck to my right, while we wait for my GM and PR team.
I don’t want to be here, even though I know we have to be.
I don’t want to waste a single minute I have left with him doing things like this.
He’s got a little extra color on his cheeks after being out in the stands this afternoon.
I want to kiss that freshly tanned skin.
Bask in those softly glowing brown eyes.
The door opens, and my gaze jerks to where three people filter into the room.
The first is a tall blonde woman in a bright pink pantsuit.
This is my GM, Kat. Her hair is slicked back in a tight ponytail, not a single hair out of place—I don’t think this woman would allow a single hair to be out of place.
I have a feeling that extends to her team.
I quickly stand and shake her hand. She greets Chuck and then Frankie.
Next is a man with a spattering of freckles. He’s wearing an evergreen cable-knit sweater that makes his green eyes pop and his wide smile seem even whiter.
He steps up to me, hand outstretched. “Hi, I’m Liam, co-head of PR here with Berkeley.”
He quickly shakes our hands. He points behind him, where a woman with very similar features stands. Like so similar, she appears to be the female version of Liam. Her hair falls in shoulder-length waves, and where her brother is of medium build, she’s a tiny thing.
“This is Layla, my partner in crime—I mean, my co-head—and also my twin.”
She steps forward and gives us all extremely firm shakes that belie her small frame.
Frankie leans forward and whispers, “I love your outfit.” I bite back my smile, because it’s a very Frankie-coded outfit. She’s wearing a dark brown, skin-tight turtleneck with wide-legged, high-waisted pants—and when I say wide-legged, I mean, like, I could fit my legs in them.
She beams at him and does a little dip. “Thank you.”
“The dynamic duo,” Kat says with a smile. “Those two are a force to be reckoned with.”
“Let’s get down to business,” Liam says, and we all take our seats.
“Layla and I handle everything that touches the public’s eye. From interviews, to your social media accounts, to whatever firestorm the media tries to send our way. We also work very closely with our cybersecurity team. It’s a bit like the Wild West out on the internet and social media.”
Kat taps the tabletop and leans forward.
“In addition to our cybersecurity team, we also have a very talented security detail that mans the stadium, including individuals specifically assigned to our player-designated seating area and family suite. When at Berkeley, you can both breathe easy knowing that we are taking all precautions necessary to keep our players and their loved ones safe. Players bring their children to these games, and we don’t ever want them to have to worry about their safety. We take this extremely seriously.”
“It’s an unfortunate reality of being in the public eye,” Liam adds. “Our job is to make sure Berkeley and its players maintain a positive image while also protecting them when attention crosses into something unsafe.
Chuck turns to me. “Something we’ll also have to decide on is private security when you’re both away from the stadium.”
“I definitely want someone hired for Frankie,” I say quickly.
“And yourself.” Frankie sends me an incredulous glare. “You’re the one people are going to care about.”
“I’m six-six and made of muscle. I am security detail.”
“You need security as well,” Layla says gently.
“Bodyguards are trained to watch out for threats. It’s more than being muscle.
And you shouldn’t have to be watching your back every time you walk out your front door.
It’s not just hateful people you need protection from either.
Fans who love you will show up at your home and crowd you in public.
Security will know how to get you past paparazzi and overzealous fans. ”
“No one even knows who I am,” I say weakly.
Kat hums, and her neat blond brows tip up. “The sports sites beg to differ.”
“Exactly. You’re new. You’re hot. Both talent and image,” Liam says.
Frankie’s hand tightens possessively on my thigh. I’d laugh if this wasn’t so overwhelming.
I blow out a breath. I guess this is my new reality.
“Have you decided on what you want to do?” Liam asks. “Chuck said you’ve discussed the pros and cons of coming out or letting it happen when it happens.”
Chuck’s attention falls on me. “We can go over them again here with everyone if you’d like.”
I shake my head. We did discuss it earlier. Chuck made some great points for both. If we come out upfront, we get to control the narrative. We don’t have any say in how we’re outed if we leave it up to the paparazzi and media.
If we wait, there will be added anxiety around when the shoe will drop. Who knows how it’ll happen and what the media will come up with.
But once the world knows…that’s all I’ll be.
A gay Major League ballplayer. My talent as a ballplayer, anything I accomplish this year—will all come second to my sexual orientation.
I rest my hand on Frankie’s, and he instantly laces our fingers.
“I want things to remain private. I just want to be Jackson Olander, center fielder for the BDE for as long as I’m able.
I have a lot to prove to this organization and the fans.
I’m…overwhelmed by the reception I’ve had, the support from you all and my teammates.
I want to show you that you made the right decision acquiring me. ”
Kat smiles. “That catch you made last night was all the proof I needed. Though today’s home run didn’t hurt either.”
My cheeks warm. “Thank you, ma’am.” I look at Frankie and clear my throat. “However, we don’t plan to hide. I’ve done enough hiding.” I look back at everyone across the table.
Liam smiles softly at me. “Understood. Unfortunately, privacy is a rare commodity for a professional athlete. And this is something the buzzards will feast on. We’ll prepare a statement that can be released immediately when the media finds out.
It’ll go through you for approval. Then it will sit in your file, ready. ”
“I suppose it’s good I live on the other side of the country.” Frankie’s words are light with a joke that doesn’t hit. “There will be nothing juicy for the media to sink its teeth into.”
Sympathy reflects back at me from across the table. My gaze falls, and I bite my cheek, but I nod. I hadn’t thought there were any positives, but I guess there is one.
Liam’s throat-clearing slices through the awkward cloud that just settled over the room.
“We also need to discuss what happens once the world finds out. There are a lot of ways we can go about this. We can do nothing and keep things as private as possible. Or we can run with it—interviews, appearances, photoshoots.” He glances between Frankie and me.
“Jackson alone and the both of you. A full media push.”
Layla glances at Kat quickly before focusing on me.
“We hold a Pride night in June, like most teams, but I think we should add more throughout the year. We want the world to know we support you more than just in June. Something where the focus can be as much or as little on you as you’re comfortable with. ”
“I love that, Layla,” Kat says. “Definitely get that rolling.”
“So…” Frankie says. There’s something in his tone that gives me the feeling he’s about to say something very Frankie-esque. “Liam, love. You said something about photoshoots.”
Oh dear.
Chuck laughs softly next to me.
Liam lights up. “Yes! I guarantee magazines, especially queer-focused ones, would love a spread with the both of you. It sends a message of pride, allows you to tell a bit of your story—own it, and inspire others.”
“Not to mention, you’d both make for a beautiful spread,” Layla adds. “Frankie, you already have the face of a model.”
Frankie’s hand shoots to his heart. “I love you.” He turns to me. “I love her.”
I can’t stop my grin. If that’s what my man wants, that’s what he gets. “Nobody puts Frankie in the corner,” I whisper. His expression goes soft.
I clear my throat and look back at Liam and Layla. “Photoshoots and interviews it is.”
Layla claps excitedly. “Perfect. I’ll start curating a list. We’ll be ready to get this shopped around the moment it hits. The media will think they caught you, but little will they know, we’ve been ahead of them the whole time.”
“I’ll send you an email,” Chuck says to Layla and Liam. “I have some thoughts on this too.”
Looks like I’m in capable hands. I sit back in my chair and take the first full breath my body’s allowed since I got the news of the trade.
I close the hotel door quietly behind me. The lightness I’d felt immediately after the PR meeting is gone now. Now everything’s constricting, a snake’s wrapping itself around me.
Torso. Chest. Neck.
Squeeze.
Frankie turns, and the minute his stare lands on my face, his falls. He’s in front of me in two strides, fingers sliding up my jaw and sifting into my hair. “Hey. Breathe.”
I try. I really do. But it’s closing in on eight p.m., and he has to leave for the airport in five hours.
“It’s going to be hard.”
“Really hard,” I say thickly.
“But it’s temporary. We’re going to figure this out. Look at how much we’ve figured out already, and it’s only been a couple days.”
If he says so.
“When can I see you again?” I whisper.
Lines pinch his brow, and he worries his lip. “I don’t know. When I get back to the office, I can see what my schedule looks like. Then compare it to yours. See when you’re home and when I can take time off lines up.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Worst-case scenario, we have to go a couple months without seeing each other. Once off-season hits, you’ll come right back home to me.”
My eyes fall closed. Home to him. It sounds like heaven. “Am I greedy for not wanting to wait that long?”