Ninth Inning

Chapter One

Will

Every practice was hard work – but out here in the blistering August heat, Will could feel the sweat dripping down the side of his face and the sun pounding into the back of his neck even stronger than he could feel the searing ache in his muscles.  It was almost impossible to comprehend staying out here for any longer to train more, but he just didn’t have a choice.

Fuck, he said, a bitter outburst shot out at nobody in particular.  I can’t do this much longer.

Ah, grow up.

He grinned across at his teammate Oliver.  Will hadn’t known that he was standing there – but then, Oliver was quick enough on the field.  Why shouldn’t he be quick at practice too, even in weather like this?  Like you’re enjoying it.  You’re sweating like a vicar next to a whore.

Oliver gave a raucous laugh, shoving him in the shoulder.  Even just having him close felt hotter; Will grimaced and took a few steps over for his water.  It was too warm to cool him down by drinking it now – but he could still tip it over his head.

What are you? Oliver shot at him.  A fuckin’ dog?  You know coach is going to have your ass for looking like that in front of the new teammate.

Ah, shit.  Will had forgotten they were meeting the new guy today.  None of them had recognized him by name.  Supposedly, he was a big-shot in the Canadian academic leagues, and now he was moving to the US to join their big-league baseball team.  Will wasn’t convinced that the kid would be able to keep up, and he wasn’t the only one – but still, Oliver was right.  Coach would want them making a good impression on him, and looking like a drowned rat probably wouldn’t do that.

That being said, sweating like a bitch from doing drills in the California sun probably wasn’t the best look either.  This new kid was just going to have to deal with what he saw.

You know, Tony looked him up.  Apparently he made waves in Canada doing an interview with some gay magazine.

Huh.

Will didn’t have a problem with gay people in general – or gay athletes, specifically.  As far as he knew, nor did Ollie.  As for the rest of the team, he couldn’t say.  He certainly wouldn’t want to be an out gay player when the media came knocking, or in front of the traditionally-minded fans.

People could be pretty closed-minded in sports.  Frankly, they’d probably see some of that themselves; conservative pundits were going to want to know exactly how they felt having a gay guy on their team.

If he even was gay, that is.  It wasn’t unheard of for a good-looking straight man to do gay magazines these days.  It made sense to broaden your appeal however you could, right?  Even if that meant being a pinup for men as well as women.

He screwed up his face, glancing over the other end of the field.  Sometimes, media approached to try and shoot pictures of their practices.  If that was the case today, then they could fuck off; Will didn’t want to be photographed looking like this.  He was pretty sure he looked like he was about to die of heatstroke and drown at the same time – if that was even possible.

However, as the figure continued to approach, Will quickly realized it wasn’t a paparazzo.  There was no camera in his hands, for one thing.  For another, he had the recognizable build of an athlete, and workout clothes.  Clean ones, too – not stained with sweat like the rest of them.  What Will wouldn’t give for a change of clothes himself right now.  After an ice-cold shower?  Shit.

Of course, there were more immediate things to think about right now.  This had to be their new teammate – and like the rest of his team, Will found his curiosity a perfectly good excuse to stop working out and watch his approach.

If Tony was right and he had done a gay magazine, then Will figured he understood why the gay magazine wanted him.  The new guy was slender but well-toned; his skin was bronzed off, even without a slick of sweat from the sun.  His hair was a cool blond, light enough to lift away from his eyes as he walked.  He could do with a haircut, but it kind of suited him to be windswept.  Quite noticeably in the sunlight that made it shine a little, a thin pale scar stretched vertical from the tip of his left eyebrow all the way down to his jawline.

Gentlemen, said coach, hands on his hips.  I’d tell you to stop working, but I can see your lazy asses already have.  This is your new teammate.  I’d like to introduce Gabriel Marten.

Oh – Gabe’s just fine, he insisted.  His voice was softer than Will had been expecting.  He knew you weren’t supposed to make assumptions like this, but he definitely sounded gay.  There was an effeminate quality to his tone – an almost flirtatious twitch in the corner of his lips as he squinted against the sun and glanced around the crowd of his new teammates.  Nice to meet you all.

Unfortunately, however, Tony’s story about the gay magazine seemed to have spread.  A couple of Will’s teammates didn’t look particularly friendly towards him – and sure, it might be the sun making them moody, but Will doubted it.  He knew the kind of narrow-minded jerks he worked with.  Great players, but they weren’t his friends.  Finally, he couldn’t take the awkward silence anymore, and stepped forward himself to offer his hand.

Don’t mind the sweat, he joked.  Won’t poison you.  I’m Will.  Good to have you with us.

He still didn’t imagine the guy would bring much skill to the table.  He was probably just a reasonably good addition for a cheap price – but in fairness, Will hadn’t seen him play yet.  Maybe he was good.  Even if he was awful, though, he deserved a better welcome than this.