Chapter Three Rome
M Y HAIR NATURALLY curled the longer it grew.
Any amount of gel or product I lock into it flees the moment I get sweaty on the field.
Getting ready for Hiroshi’s birthday party, and knowing Alex would be there, I was sure to get my hair freshly cut with a hard part and faded sides.
At home, I put in enough product to slick the top to give it a little volume while keeping it straight.
Not a stereotypical dago like how my father looked, but still Italian enough to be unmistakable.
I wore a loose tank top and short shorts to show off all the hard work I put into my lower half.
I wedged flip flops on my feet, knowing they would eventually come off at some point.
Lastly, I put on cologne—the expensive stuff my agent bought me.
I checked myself in the full-length hallway mirror. Was it too much? Too frat-boy? I always liked to be as comfortable as possible when we didn’t have a game. I wondered if I should put on a nice t-shirt or longer shorts. Golfing attire, perhaps?
My phone chimed and I pulled it out to see a text from Alex.
Alex: Forgot to ask. Is this like a formal thing?
My eyes browsed over our previous texts.
He had sent me an apologetic text last night after the game concluded (we lost, one to three).
He attempted to sound like a fan, to say we played good defense, which made me smile.
I didn’t message back until the next day—this morning.
Another part of my ritual to keep myself separated, to wind down, to bifurcate my life so that I rested, especially after a loss.
He didn’t seem to mind, as he responded almost immediately after I texted back.
And now here he was again, looking for information.
Me: Definitely not formal. There’s a pool, too. Bring your suit if you aren’t shy ;)
Alex: Pale Irish skinny guy amongst professional athletes? Hard pass.
Me: lol shorts and t-shirt are good. Don’t be late!
Alex: There’s a joke here about roads and Rome, but I think I might be beating a dead horse.
Me: Trust me, that saying never gets old.
Alex: Then I’ll turn off my GPS and just drive until I arrive ;)
Me: One pale Irish skinny guy, coming right up.
He laughed at my last text, and I stuffed my phone back into my pocket.
When I looked up at myself in the mirror, I saw a stupidly big grin plastered on my face.
My belly did flips as if I went through a loop-de-loop on a rollercoaster.
How could I be simultaneously dreading a negative encounter but excited to interact with him again?
Those two couldn’t coexist in my mind or my body.
I paused when I reached the front door of my house.
This duality inside me, the fear of screwing this up, the excitement of getting it right, had only happened on sparse occasions in the past. All of them going the way of the dodo.
The market of men I required was a very niche one.
I was out to my family and closest friends and had zero interest in going public.
But discreet men were impossible to find and it was even harder to sift through the sycophants or would-bes who googled me and wanted fame and fortune.
Would Alex be the same? He still seemed cautious, even after my call and the texts we exchanged.
And if he was cautious, why? I hadn’t explicitly come out to him, hadn’t held a sign for him to read to say, “I’m gay, but please keep it a secret, also please date me in secret.
” He appeared to live his life out and proud.
Would he want to change that for someone he barely knew?
I pulled the door open. A short driveway with a single-car garage stood before me, beyond that a short walk down the drive toward the big house, Hiroshi’s home.
Three years ago, he bought the manor for his family since they lived full time in Massachusetts.
After struggling to find a suitable place to live, he offered up the guesthouse, a nice two-bedroom with everything I needed.
I owned a home down in Florida that I stayed at during spring training, and a house in Rhode Island near my parents that I lived in during offseason.
I had yet to find something during the regular season but was in no rush to do so.
A beautifully manicured lawn surrounded the three story, all-white structure of a modern luxury build.
Abutting over eighty acres of conservation land, Hiroshi’s house was as private as you could get, with a long, gated driveway.
(Yes, I had texted Alex the guest code to get in.) A pool sat in the back surrounded by a low, white fence.
Currently, I heard splashes, likely from Hiroshi’s kids playing before everyone showed up.
Catering and service vans lined the driveway as penguin-dressed folks marched an endless array of food and drink to the back patio.
A DJ was pulling cords and plugging in speakers along the pool.
A couple of the catering people stared me down as I walked to the side entrance they were using.
One woman’s eyes never left my body and she bit her lower lip.
Inside was controlled chaos. I meandered my way through it all until I reached the living room where Hiroshi stood in front of a seventy-inch flatscreen. Last night’s highlights were on and he had his hands on his hips, shaking his head.
“Can’t win ’em all,” I told him. He didn’t turn to look at me.
“I’m more concerned about the ones we should have won. They scored twice in the fifth inning. Twice . And we couldn’t catch up the rest of the game?”
He prattled on and I listened. There was a reason he became our captain, shouldering a burden I never wanted to carry. “When do we play them next?” Hiroshi asked.
“Couple of weeks, I think. We’re playing there for those two.”
Hiroshi clicked off the television and turned to me. He let out a breath and his body shifted . The tautness he carried in his shoulders evaporated as his eyes looked me up and down. He leaned forward a fraction and made a show at sniffing the air.
“Dude, you wearing cologne?” He slapped his chest and rocked back. “For me, on my birthday? You’re just so sweet.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, I’m not wearing cologne for you.”
“Then for who? Because no one wears cologne for themselves.”
My cheeks went red. I couldn’t lie, didn’t want to lie. Had to change subjects. Had to…
“You invited someone, didn’t you?” Hiroshi said.
He laser focused on me and it was as if he could read me like an easy play.
“Does this one have potential?” He grew more serious as the questions came rolling out.
“Dude, you should have told me. What does he like to drink? I can talk to the caterers. I’ll give him a good spot to park in, if you want? When do you think he’ll get here?”
I held out both my hands. “Roshi, brother, please. This isn’t anything like that.”
Again, he dramatically sniffed the air. “Sure, Rom eo ,” he said, putting emphasis on the perfect portmanteau of my name and the other. He smiled and crossed his arms. “Look at you. You’re nervous, aren’t you?”
“What? I’m not nervous .”
“Yes, you are. Damn, who is this guy?”
“Hon?” a woman’s voice said as she came around a corner. Hiroshi’s wife, Rei, was a knockout, with long black hair, a stunning body, and clothing that always fit just right. She was a former model and who could blame Hiroshi for falling head over heels for her.
She smiled at me. “Hey, Rome. Nice haircut. Hon, I need help with the…” Her nose crinkled. “Rome, are you wearing cologne?” She gasped. “Is it for a boy? Is he coming? He’s coming here, I knew it. Who is it? Do we know him? Is that why your hair looks so good?”
I threw up my hands. “Oh, I can’t with you two.” I stomped to the French doors that led out to the pool patio. “I refuse to be interrogated.”
“You better tell me his name now,” Rei called out after me, “because once I find him and sink my claws into him, I’ll know way more about his life than you!”
I closed the door and heard them giggle. One of their kids called my name but I held up a finger when I heard my phone ding.
Alex: Oh, also, should I bring anything? What does Hiroshi like?
Me: He was adamant on no gifts. Just you is good :)
Alex: Well all right. I’ll see you in an hour.
I bided the next half hour tossing Hiroshi’s daughters into the pool while their Shiba Inu barked at the danger of children in the water.
Teammates had started to arrive by the time the girls got out and Rei brought them upstairs.
Brett had a light beer in one hand while he handed me a can of seltzer with his other.
We stood by the pool slide while the DJ turned on some chill beats.
“Dude,” Brett said as he sniffed.
“Don’t,” I said. He opened his mouth to speak but I talked over it. “Not another word.”
“Was just gonna comment on how sick your hair looks. Fresh fade?”
I glowered and sipped the seltzer. “Yes.”
“Who is it for?”
If I pinched my face together any tighter, I’d implode on myself. My cheeks grew redder by the heartbeat. “Brett…”
He bumped his shoulder into mine. “Come on. Let’s play some pool.”
Together, we walked to the corner of the house, a glass structure overlooked part of the pool and patio. Inside sat a green pool table, the walls that weren’t glass covered in Riders, Brawlers, and Barracudas paraphernalia, all of Hiroshi’s past teams.
“So,” Brett said as he set up the first round. “When does he get here?”
I knew Brett wouldn’t stop until he got the baseline details out of me. And honestly? I sort of wanted to share.
“He’ll be here in a half hour,” I admitted.
Brett racked the balls several times, looking for some kind of perfection I couldn’t see. “Nervous?”
“Very.”
He took a swig of his beer before grabbing the pool cue. “Makes sense. Have you ever been this nervous before? Dude, you’re shaking out of your sandals.”
I thought on that as I watched Brett line up the first shot. “Yes, but not like the others.”
“Hmm, gotta be something special this time.” He broke and we watched the pool balls bounce around the table to clicks and clacks of the balls colliding with one another.
“He’s different from the others.” By others, I meant three separate occasions over the course of ten years, none of them resulting in anything more than a first kiss after a couple of dates.
“Whattaya mean?”
Brett’s questions didn’t come across as inquisitorial, but rather, conversational. In front of others, he would tease relentlessly. One-on-one, his entire approach shifted.
“I dunno. He doesn’t know a lick about baseball, to start.”
Brett looked up from the pool table as the balls finished bouncing. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “He had no idea who I was.” Internally, I scolded myself for sounding too egotistical. It would come across as such to someone who didn’t live in our world, but I knew Brett understood what I meant.
“I call solids.” Brett lined up his next shot. “Bro, you didn’t come out to him, did you.” It wasn’t a question. He sank a ball in the corner pocket and lined up his next shot.
“No. Didn’t think I needed to. I… I mean, I tried flirting. I think it worked. Pretty sure he understood. He’s out. At least I assume. He had rainbows and stuff on his webpage.”
Brett paused while lining up a shot and looked up at me. “So he’s out. You’re not. Ain’t that gonna cause a problem, man?”
He sank a ball in a side pocket. I wasn’t going to get a turn anytime soon.
“I’m not not out. I just…” I sighed. “You know me. I want to keep my private life private.”
Sank another one. “Yeah, too private sometimes.”
He sank his fourth ball. I already resigned to defeat.
Brett won the first round by a mile. I set up the second round and he beat me again.
When he set up the third round, a murmur outside caught my attention.
The party was fully underway now, the pool mostly crowded with people I knew.
One particular man stood out among the rest. I openly stared and watched as he pressed a polite smile on his face and weeded through the hordes of people.
His hair looked freshly cut. He wore a baby-blue V-neck t-shirt, khaki shorts that fell a few inches above his knees, and loafers.
My eyes went to his legs—powerful and corded with muscle.
Lean. A runner, I just knew he was a runner.
His arms filled out his shirt, too. He wasn’t as skinny as he claimed to be.
“That him?” Brett asked as he came up behind me.
Alex’s head moved on a swivel. Looking for someone.
Looking for me.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Handsome fella,” Brett said. “Hey isn’t that Devin’s brother? The photographer that the assholes in media didn’t like?” He punched my shoulder. “You devil.”
Alex’s eyes roamed the landscape. They tracked along the house, windowed walls, inching toward me. I strained my spine and put my hand on the handle to the door leading outside. Then, his eyes found mine.
Oh, that smile. I could get used to that.
I waved him toward me.
“I’ll leave ya to it. And remember, don’t be a fool, wrap your tool.” Brett left the room before I could bark out a response. He disappeared somewhere in the house. By the time I turned back to the door leading outside, Alex was there.