Consumption
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I still don't own these guys.
Summary: Some of the players go out after breaking a losing streak
"As the man who broke us out of a skid, we are officially buying you a drink,"
Greg Maddux said, putting his arm around my shoulders and grinning at me.
The "we" was referring to his general other half, Tom Glavine, who was
walking to my left.
"You are, are you?"
"Yep," the stoic Glavine replied, allowing a small smile. "You deserve it."
"And is anyone else coming?"
"Chipper," Maddux replied. "He's bringing Marc, I think. I asked him to. I
like the kid. Smoltzy and Jace, too."
I sighed, pretending to be annoyed at their insistence, but they knew I didn't
mean it. I certainly wouldn't turn them down, and I was as happy as anyone
to break the losing streak, especially at Coors Field, where my ERA's in
the 8-point-something range. "Ok, ok, fine. But I refuse to pay for
anything."
Glavine looked slightly offended. "And why would we make you do that?" I gave
him a look and he grinned a bit wider, but we had reached the car, an
Explorer. I didn't ask where it came from, but Smoltz was driving, so I
figured it probably wasn't illegal and got in, the one and two starters
following me.
Maddy was right on the other occupants of the vehicle, with the exception of
Jason Marquis, who had begged off, leaving rookie Marcus Giles looking
decidedly uncomfortable in the presence of all us veterans.
The scene at the table at the dark and quiet bar Smoltz and Chipper had chosen
was quite similar. John was sitting at the end next to Chipper, and Marcus
was between he and I. Maddux and Glavine sat a bit too close together to
my left, trying to look like they weren't madly in love, and failing
fairly miserably. But still, the company was familiar and pleasant, and I
nursed my first beer slowly, watching the interactions - or non-
interactions, in Marc's case - of my friends. Later in the night, it was
all I could do to keep from bursting out laughing.
Chipper and Smoltz had migrated and were currently playing a heated pool game
against a couple of guys in Rockies hats who didn't seem to recognize
them. Marc was eyeing our young waiter, who seemed to be eyeing back
pretty steadily. Maddux and Glavine were doing a very poor job of
disguising what they were doing, and I couldn't help myself from playing
the teacher. "Hand check," I murmured, just loud enough for my companions
and our server to hear.
Giles flushed red as the waiter dropped his hand and took a step back, but I
noticed the slip of paper the second baseman held. Tommy and Greg and
jumped guiltily, and all four of their hands had returned to the tabletop
in my period of inattention. I couldn't help but laugh at them.
"Ah, fuck you, Burk," Maddux muttered, jovially. "You're just jealous anyway."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Me? Jealous of you? Or of him, for that matter?"
Glavine leaned across the tabletop, giving me the same icy stare he gave to
batters, that he had perfected in 17 years of professional baseball. "And
what exactly are you trying to say?"
I'll admit that he startled me. No one realizes just how intimidating that guy
can be. So I sat back involuntarily, until I noticed Maddy giggling
uncontrollably - somewhat due to alcohol consumption, no doubt - with his
hand covertly stroking his lover's neck.
I shook my head, and rolled my eyes and the rookie beside me, who wore an
expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement as he watched the
antics of the two veteran pitchers. "Didn't know, did you?"
He shook his head. "Don't know now how I missed it. They're...God, they're so
obvious when you're looking."
"The only reason they get away with that is that no one is looking. Now,
though, I think it's time to get home."
Marc looked thoughtful. "Actually...I think I'll find my own way back."
I shrugged, as Chipper and Smoltz came back, apparently having earned the
title of reigning pool champions of the place for the evening. "Ok." I
directed my gaze across the room to our server, who was watching our
table. "Have fun, then. Don't be late for batting practice."
"Thanks, Dad," he grinned, before easing his way across the room. I picked up
the piece of paper he'd left on the table. Hastily scrawled were the
words "Nice single tonight. I'm off in 10 min."
So apparently Maddy was right in calling him Marc. I chuckled a little and
winked across the room, then followed the rest out, calling seniority to
make Chipper sit in the back with Maddux and Glavine, who were having an
alcoholically difficult time keeping their hands off each other. But we
still reached the hotel without incident, and made it quietly across the
lobby and to our hall.
Maddy and Glavine found their - well, Tommy's - room, first, and wished us all
good night before disappearing inside. Actually, Glavine was sort of
pushing Maddux, lips already grazing his jawbone, and Maddux winked at us
over his lover's shoulder as Tommy closed the door behind them. Smoltz was
looking at the door of his two old friends with an expression torn between
tender and bemused, Chipper with his usual whatever-makes-you-happy look.
"Well. Thank you for the drinks. Good night."
"Night, Burky. Good game."
"You guys, too," I said, meaning it. It was Smoltzy's save, and Chipper's
grand slam that really set the game in stone for us, but they didn't need
me to tell them that, so I decided that I'd rather sleep than find another
pool table with the two of them and vanished into my own room, which I
actually shared with Jose Cabrera. I think you've gotta be a Brave for 5
years before they give you your own room. Jose wasn't there, though, so I
gratefully fell into bed, marveling for the ten thousandth time at the
fact that I, a semi-good journeyman starter, had a quite a respectable
ERA, was playing for a team with playoff aspirations, and had, somehow,
gotten to know 3, count them, 3, gay baseball players on one team.
And damned if I didn't, despite try as I might have that first week after I
accidentally found out Maddy and Tommy, like every single one of them.