Page 36 of Heavy Hitter

They flew down to Florida for Game 4, Jonesy hitting bombs and Tito zipping all over the outfield and Tuck pitching some of the most beautiful innings of baseball Jimmy had ever seen, sending hitters chasing after pitches hooked just outside the strike zone and catching them looking as his slider dipped across the plate. Two outs at the bottom of the fourth, Jimmy remembers, the O’s up by three and a rookie second baseman from the Marlins up at bat. The kid was new as a freshly minted penny, a mid-season call-up eager to make a name for himself, and as his swing connected neatly with Tuck’s fastball Jimmy thought for a moment there was a chance he was going to. He remembers the scream of the crowd as the kid dropped his bat and took off around the bases, rounding second as the Birds struggled to get their acts together and crossing third by the time they finally put hands on the ball. Jimmy made the catch just as the kid dove for home plate, desperate and wild—

And took a flying leap into Jimmy’s left side.

Jimmy’s not deluded enough to think that him tearing his shoulder is the reason the Marlins came from behind and won that night, let alone the reason they swept the next three games and won the Series. Still, he thinks about it sometimes, what might have happened. He thinks about how it all might have felt.

“Anyway,” he says now, clearing his throat, “wasn’t meant to be.”

“That’s very stoic of you.”

“I’m a stoic guy.”

“A regular Marcus Aurelius.”

“That’s what they call me.” He can tell that she knows he’s full of shit and he wants to distract her into forgetting, so he backs her up against the edge of the pool and kisses her, sliding his hands up her rib cage and tracing the cheerful white piping on her bathing suit top. “You could take this off, you know.”

Lacey smirks. “I could, huh?”

“Just saying.” He works the tip of one finger underneath the edge of the spandex, rubbing gently around the very edge of her nipple and feeling it harden up underneath his touch. “There’s nobody here.”

“My bodyguards are in the pool house, dumbass.”

“They’re not watching.”

“Somebody’s always watching,” she counters with an ease that nearly takes his breath away. “Always.” Then, wrinkling her nose: “Sorry. Is that a total boner-killer?”

“Nah,” Jimmy lies, kissing her one more time before pulling away and sitting down on the steps in the shallow end. “Just kind of makes me wonder if I should start waxing my chest.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Does it get tiring?” he asks, stretching his legs out in front of him. He’s supposed to do PT in this pool, theoretically, but in practice he hardly ever does. “Being the entirety of the American zeitgeist?”

Lacey shrugs. “I don’t really think about it that way,” she says. “I chose this, and there are certain things that come with it. And certain accommodations or calculations that I have to make because of that.”

“No topless sunbathing,” he says sadly.

“Tits away,” she deadpans, and Jimmy guffaws.

Back in the house he makes them a couple of green juices, which is the single healthy habit he held on to from his marriage. “You want to go to breakfast?” he calls over the whir of the juicer as she sits down on the sofa in the great room. “There’s a place in town that’s got good eggs.”

“Oh!” Lacey hesitates, turning around to look at him over the back of the sofa. “Um.”

All at once, Jimmy gets it. It’s like a record scratch, the moment he figures it out. “Okay,” he says slowly, handing her a glass of health the color of ectoplasm and sitting down on the couch beside her, cracking his knuckles and hoping vainly for a little bit of relief. “So this is gonna be a secret, huh?”

Lacey looks sheepish. “It’s not that I want it to be a secret,” she says, not quite looking at him. “It just gets complicated once it’s not.”

“Calculations,” Jimmy says, nodding slowly. “Accommodations.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he says, and he’s not, truly; in fact, he’s closer to hurt than angry, but fuck him if he’s ever going to admit that out loud. “I mean, that’s fine. But for the record, I think I could probably handle it. The complications, or whatever.” He takes a sip of his grass-tasting juice. “I mean, if you’re embarrassed about it, then that’s another story—”

“I’m not embarrassed.” Lacey’s temper flares; he can see it.

“Okay.” Jimmy shrugs. “Well, then. I guess I just don’t love the idea of sneaking around like some teenager who doesn’t want his dad to catch him breaking curfew, that’s all.”

“Oh, because historically you’ve been the king of romantic integrity?”

Jimmy feels his jaw twitch. “I’ve never tried to hide it when I cared about someone.”

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