Page 25 of Double Play

He cackles as he makes his way to the elevator.

Ripley and I go inside and look through everything. I hold up the tiny jerseys. “Are these youth sizes? Do we really have to wear these?”

She holds up a number eight jersey and turns it around so I can read the back. “I guessLayton’s Ladydoes.” That’s the name on the back of the jersey.Layton’s Lady.

“Ugh. Is that jersey bedazzled? Who would wear crap like this to games? His better be bedazzled too.”

Ripley giggles. “I doubt it.”

“It barely covers one of my boobs.”

“That’s what you get for having a big rack.”

Much to Ripley’s clean freak disapproval, I toss the jersey onto the sofa and head toward my bedroom. “I need to shower. I’m meeting Layton for lunch.”

“Have fun beingLayton’s Lady.”

Two hours later, Layton and I are sitting in a park known as LOVE Park for the famous statue of the letters spelling out the word,LOVE. He has three bags of food and is wearing a huge grin on his face as we sit on a bench. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Why are you stupidly happy right now?”

“I’m popping your cheesesteak cherry. It’s so exciting.”

I roll my eyes. “How much food did you get? It looks like enough to feed ten people.”

“You can’t live in Philly and not know which cheesesteak is your favorite. I got one from each of the three most famous cheesesteak stands. Pat’s, Jim’s, and Geno’s. We’ll do a taste test.”

“Which one is your favorite?”

“I can’t tell you yet. I don’t want to sway you. Cheesesteak preference is very personal.”

I can’t help my laugh over how seriously he’s taking this.

As he’s slicing them like a trained surgeon with the knife he conveniently brought, I ask, “Why are you so set on staying in Philly?”

He’s quiet for a moment before answering. “It’s the only family I have left.”

“The team?”

“Yes and no. Obviously the team. I was always close to Harold Greene. But not just that. My grandmother took care of a lot of kids when I grew up. They were mostly in and out, but there was one boy who became sort of a little brother to me. His name is Henry. He’s twenty-four now but was only ten when my grandmother died. I was so caught up in my life and career, I didn’t think about what would happen to him without my grandmother. She died about two years after I moved away. He bounced around from home to home, dealt with all kinds of terrible shit, and got into drugs and alcohol. By the time he was eighteen, he was a mess. I reconnected with him and immediately got him into a good rehab. After that, I moved him here and helped him get a job. He still struggles a lot, but I do what I can for him. Things would definitely go south if I moved away from him, and I don’t think he’d be willing to move again.”

“You feel guilty that you left him behind?”

He nods. “I do. If I had taken him with me, maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad for him.”

“You were practically a kid yourself.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. But I still should have looked out for him. It’s my biggest regret. I’m trying to make up for it both with him and by spending time with kids in similar situations. I volunteer when I can.”

“What kind of volunteer work?”

“I coach a youth baseball team.”

“That’s awesome. Does Henry coach with you?”

“No. He doesn’t like being around kids in those circumstances. I think it triggers him.”

“What does he do?”

---