Chapter 8

Brock found he had a natural affinity with Emmy Reyes. She laughed easily but she was grounded and down to earth, too.

At the cookout, their conversations ventured from boobs to boats to, eventually, baseball. Emmy was a fan. Of course, her Uncle Al was her favorite player but she said she liked the way Brock played with such energy.

It was the same energy she put into her studies. Emmy was looking for a graduate school to continue studying marine biology. She had graduated from the University of Miami but she didn't want to go to grad school there. In her field, a variety of learning was preferred when it came to landing the best jobs.

The fact that Uncle Al and Aunt Esmi lived in Los Angeles provided too good an opportunity to let slip past. Al, the highest-paid player on the Dodgers' roster and one of the highest paid in the league, had offered to pay Emmy's way but she wanted to do this on her own.

Emmy planned to land a research job and go to grad school at the same time. Brock was impressed with her drive but put in his two cents anyway.

"Don't dismiss Al and Esmi's help," he advised. "They have more money than they know what to do with. I know it doesn't seem like it but I was in the same situation as Al. It gave me great personal satisfaction to help out those I was closest to and to make their lives easier."

"But I want to work," Emmy protested.

"So work," Brock replied with a smile. "But instead of living in a crappy one-bedroom apartment over a bar, let your family help you out. Out-of-state tuition is going to be monstrous."

Emmy looked back over her shoulder then faced Brock again.

"I love them dearly," she said. "I really do. But I would go absolutely crazy living with them."

Brock laughed. He could readily identify with that assertion.

"I wasn't suggesting that," he said. "My God, I didn't think you were a masochist. I was talking about letting them help you with rent or a mortgage. Everyone wins that way. They feel like they're giving back to a family that has always been there for them. You don't have to check for cockroaches before you fix a sandwich."

Emmy rolled her eyes but smiled.

"I could do that, I guess," she said. "My family is strange. Esmi never really liked my mom."

"I think your mom's looks might have intimidated Esmi," Brock corrected gently. Emmy wondered how he knew so much about her family dynamic. That thought lasted until she remembered that her aunt had given her a primer on what subjects to stay away from when talking to Brock. It only made sense that her uncle had done the same thing.

A couple of pieces clicked into place.

"Brock," she said quietly, "this won't go any farther than friendship."

"OK," Brock answered immediately. He couldn't see how their conversation had gotten to that statement but he could accept it. "Everyone needs friends – especially out here."

"I'm gay," Emmy said. "That's another reason I couldn't stay with Aunt Esmi. She would disapprove."

"Oh, OK," Brock answered. He didn't really need an explanation and he couldn't see that Esmi would care one way or the other. Esmi could be caustic with her comments but she was also a very nice woman. "I think you're mistaken about Esmi but I could be wrong. It's happened before."

The conversation continued for several more minutes before Esmi came over to visit.

"I see you're getting along well," she said happily. She was mentally patting herself on the back for her matchmaking skills. "I suspected you two would have a lot in common."

Such as the fact we both like females, Brock thought but didn't say. Emmy saw the twinkle in his eyes and slapped his arm.

Esmi continued unabated.

"You two don't have to stay and hang out with us old folks," she said. "Why don't you go out and have fun? Brock, I know you don't have a thing to do tomorrow and Emmy doesn't have her interview until Tuesday."

Emmy rolled her eyes behind Esmi's back.

"If you didn't buy enough food to feed me, you shouldn't have invited me," Brock replied with a laugh. The party had only been under way for an hour and the food wasn't off the grill yet. Esmi looked over her shoulder and turned back, red-faced.

"Sorry," she said. "I wasn't trying to get rid of you. I know these can get boring for two young people."

Esmi and Al were only eight years older than Brock and Emmy.

"Yeah, well, once you start the shuffleboard games, we'll probably split," Brock responded. "Until then, I think we're OK hanging out with the elderly."

Esmi smiled and wandered away. Emmy looked at Brock with amazement.

"She must really like you," she said. "Anyone else would have been picking their teeth up off the floor."

Brock shrugged.

"I'm a charmer, what can I say?" he asked.

Brock and Emmy did go out on the town after the cookout wound down – but not before a couple of other attendees took a run at Emmy. Brock found out that Emmy could be just as abrasive as her aunt.

One of the players, an overpriced veteran pitcher in the last year of his contract, started to say something hateful but stopped when he remembered whose house he was visiting and whose niece he was talking to. He also saw Brock take a step forward so the man turned on his heel and departed.

The situation at their first night spot was similar. Emmy Reyes was beautiful. That couldn't be denied. But she also was somewhat naïve. Brock could readily see that – because he was just as guileless.

Neither considered it to be a problem when Brock went to the bar to grab a beer for himself and a cocktail for Emmy. The problem arose when some of the jerks who inhabit the L.A. nightlife saw an attractive, unattended female and made a mad dash to get to her.

Emmy liked to dance so she accepted the first invitation that was offered. They didn't make it to the dance floor because the guy put his hand on Emmy's ass within three steps and she almost ripped his head off. Brock was almost to the table and saw the incident. He recognized the guy from one of those campy TV shows but didn't remember his name.

Brock strode purposefully forward, pushing club-goers out of his way and arrived in time to hear the man ask Emmy in a loud voice: "Do you know who I am?"

Brock couldn't help the laugh that escaped when he heard Emmy's reply.

"Yeah, another D-list actor whose IQ is smaller than his shoe size," Emmy retorted. "You probably should stick with the pimply-faced teenagers, Pal. I'm sure they go all starry-eyed when you get close. Now get the fuck away from me."

Brock picked that moment to step forward. He was surprised to find he was so much taller than the guy who had accosted Emmy.

"Problem?" he asked.

He saw the fire in Emmy's eyes when she turned. They softened only slightly when she recognized him.

"We were just discussing how Mr. Grabby there would like to try to slay zombies with only one arm next season," Emmy said. She took Brock's arm and they walked to an unoccupied table, leaving the actor fuming in their wake. He was certain that the Internet would have a full transcript of his strikeout online by midnight.

"Peckerhead," Emmy said to another bar patron who took the opportunity for a grope when she walked past.

"Sorry," Brock answered. "I know you could handle things but I wanted to be there in case he got physical."

"What?" Emmy asked.

"Uh, you called me a peckerhead," Brock replied.

"Not you!" Emmy responded. "Jesus, these fucking people must have four hands each. How do you put up with it?"

"Me?" Brock wondered. "I've never been to a place like this before in my life."

They were shouting at each other despite the fact they were only a foot apart.

"Fuck this," Emmy said. She grabbed her apple-tini and drained it. Brock looked forlornly at the $9 beer that he knew he wasn't going to get the chance to drink. He would probably puke on the floor if he drank it as quickly as Emmy had finished her cocktail.

Sure enough, she grabbed his hand and led him toward the coat-check. They retrieved their belongings and headed out the door.

"Let's go hang out on the beach," Emmy decided.

The ensuing few weeks brought another platonic relationship into Brock's orbit. Emmy Reyes became almost his constant companion. She was outspoken and independent but she also possessed a vulnerability that endeared her to her new friend.

Brock knew that part of her Emmy's insecurity stemmed from the fact that she was gay – and that she had few people to whom she could confide. Emmy seemed to sense that Brock was worthy of her trust from only a few moments after she met him. In only a couple of weeks, he became the person to whom she confessed her darkest fears and most outlandish hopes.

He hated to see her fly home but he knew by the end of August he would see her again. There were times he wished that her sexual orientation swung the other direction. He could see himself making a life with Emmy Reyes. Their relationship was open and honest. There was no history to derail them.

Sadly, for Brock at least, there was no future to covet either.

The last series before the All-Star break was in Miami. Brock was dreading it. He hadn't spoken to Chastity since May. They had exchanged a couple of e-mails and texts but that was it.

The four-game series with the Marlins started on Thursday and ended on Sunday. Brock was thankful that Chastity would be in Mexico for the majority of his stay. Emmy had returned to Miami following her interview at UCLA and she was looking forward to visiting with Brock during his time in her hometown.

He wasn't the least bit surprised Thursday evening to see Emmy, along with an older woman that could only be her mother, stationed along the third base line with a handmade banner in front of them: Brock's Beauties, South Florida Chapter.

What surprised him was seeing Esmi Perez right there alongside them. She gave Brock a smirk when his gaze returned to her.

The weekend turned out to be enjoyable. Al took Brock to meet his brother-in-law and sister-in-law. Emmy showed him where she had gone to college and some of the interesting sights in South Florida.

It was nice to be able to eat a home-cooked meal, even if it was at lunchtime. He was looking forward to three days off the following week.

The only surprise came Sunday afternoon. Brock and Al had stopped to say goodbye to Lindy Reyes, who was stationed in her seat along the third-base line with her daughter, when a face two rows behind them caught his eye.

Chastity Durant.

Brock gulped and stopped in mid-sentence. Al glanced toward him, then toward Chastity. The woman was talking to some of her friends and seemed to be ignoring Brock completely. He was unsure of what to do.

Esmi wasn't.

"Hey, that's Chastity Durant and Louisa Bond," she said loudly enough to be heard over the gathering crowd. "I want their autographs."

Chastity, of course, looked up when she heard her name. It was relatively rare for someone to recognize her even in soccer-crazed Little Havana. She couldn't pretend not to see Brock any longer.

Brock raised a hand in greeting and offered a half-smile. She offered the same.

"Let's switch seats," Esmi said, lifting her children out of the seat next to her and motioning Chastity and her teammate down front.

"I need to go," Brock said.

"Stay!" Esmi and Emmy ordered in unison.

Brock looked at Al for guidance. It was 20 more minutes before they absolutely had to be in the clubhouse. They had arrived early so they could visit with Esmi's family before flying back to L.A. after the game.

"You, too," Esmi said to her husband. That seemed to decide the matter. Lindy and Emmy made a strategic withdraw to get some nachos as Chastity and Louisa came down front.

"Hi, Brock," Chastity said when she stopped in front of him.

"How did it go yesterday?" he asked. "Our game went extras and I had to get up too early to catch Sports Tonight."

"We won," Louisa said. The woman didn't seem all that thrilled by the information.

"That's great!" Brock declared. "Winning in Mexico is always a big deal. Congratulations."

"We quit, Brock," Chastity said softly.

"What?" Brock asked.

"She said, 'We quit, '" Louisa said louder. "We were supposed to have five days away. They canceled the friendly in Hartford. Instead we were told that we were confined to the training area and practice would resume this afternoon."

"Oh," Brock said. He wasn't sure what he should say. Louisa was undeterred.

"A bunch of us had tickets for today's game," she said. "So we told the old bitch we were through. Chas and I came to get the tickets and the rest are holding a press conference. Eleven of us all quit this morning and we won't be back until that hateful bitch is gone."

Brock looked at Chastity.

"I'm really sorry," he said. "I know this means a lot to you. I hope things work out. I truly do."

"Thanks, Brock," Chastity said. "I guess either it will or it won't. I couldn't put up with it any longer. None of us could. Louisa hasn't been able to see her kids in three months. Coach forgets that almost everyone has someone else out there paying the bill for this. We can't just afford to fly them in for a few hours. We're not making $250,000 a year like she is. The coach wouldn't let us go even for two or three days and she wouldn't allow anyone outside the team into the practices. We probably would be better off if we had mutinied back in May. That would have given us six more weeks to gel. Or it would give the new team six more weeks to practice.

"Today was the final straw. We had planned for months to come to this game. We were all looking forward to it. Well, at least I was looking forward to it."

"We all were," Louisa said. Then she elbowed Chastity in the ribs. "Ask him."

"Later," Chastity said softly. Brock and Al both could hear her.

"There might not be much time later," Al said. "We're flying out as soon as we can hit the airport. They've already taken our stuff out."

Chastity sighed and seemed to steel herself.

"Can I come back to L.A. with you?" she asked quickly.

"Uh," Brock stammered. "I..."

"We have a charter," Al cut in. "They won't let anyone on that's not affiliated with the team. I'm sorry. I'll have my wife ... that's her that dragged you down here ... make flight arrangements. Will that work?"