The girl was gorgeous. I said, “And there he goes.” I turned back to Harley as Javier honed in on his latest target at the bar. There was no doubt about his good taste in women. She didn’t bat an eye when she saw Javier headed her way. He sidled up beside her and promptly blocked our view. It was the last we would see of Javier until batting practice the next day.

Harley asked, “Does he do that every time?”

I nodded. “Yep, pretty much, unless it’s a cookout or something else private. Still, Javier is a great guy, and he has fascinating connections in this town. He helped catch the goons who shattered Chase’s shoulder. Getting to know Javier is like peeling the layers of an onion. I think I’m only skin deep. My mind boggles when I think about what else I might eventually find out about him.”

I convinced Harley to leave the ratty T-Shirt in the locker at the stadium. He got razzed by guys on the team, and they plotted to steal it and hide it away where he’d never find it again. One of the guys said, “It’s from college ball. You’re playing the real game now.”

Harley groused, “I’m older than almost half of them, but they made me feel like a junior high kid.”

I said, “You don’t need it. All those good luck things are a crutch. Store the T-Shirt away with the trophies and those Little League uniforms your mom saved.”

Before we left the stadium for the bar, I smiled as I watched Harley carefully fold the T-Shirt against the bench in the locker room. He laid it gently on the shelf inside the locker and pulled on a button-up shirt. I knew that he would turn a few heads in the bar. Wearing the nice shirt, he looked at least five years older and like someone you might want to take home to your parents.

Sipping his beer, Harley said, “Mo had the perfect idea for my shirt. He suggested it to me right after he said, ‘That’s why I keep the rabbit’s foot in my pocket.’”

“Mo? What did he suggest, and damn, that rabbit’s foot is the rattiest thing. You don’t even want to see it.”

Harley shook his head. “I won’t tell you until I see how it turns out. It is an outstanding idea.” He asked, “So, anyway, is this how you spend every night after a home game? Do you hang out with Javier for a few minutes until he finds company for the rest of the evening and leaves you sitting here alone nursing a beer? Why don’t you have a girlfriend? You’re a good guy.”

I wedged the corner of a fingernail under the label on the beer bottle and shrugged. “It was a much better idea when I hung out with Aaron, Chase, and sometimes Mo. Then they all paired off in couples, and here I sat. It’s not a bad way to wind down after a game. Yeah, a girlfriend would be great, but I’m in no hurry.”

Harley started digging deeper with his questions. “Don’t you ever wonder how you ended up the odd guy out with the gay players? It makes sense that they hung together, but what’s your story?”

I shrugged. “Good taste? Are you trying to imply something?”

Harley leaned forward, and the dim light of the bar danced along the profile of his face. “Nah, I’m not implying anything about you unless there’s something about me, too. My best buddies in high school all had girlfriends most of the time. They paired off with cheerleaders and daughters of the few doctors and lawyers in town. Go figure.”

I said, “So I guess it’s you and me.”

Harley swallowed a swig of the beer and burped. “Oh, oops, sorry, bud. Maybe you’ll have second thoughts about hanging out with me.” He giggled, and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing along with him. There was something about the boy inside Harley that charmed the hell out of me.

“Charlotte’s a good town. There’s always a lot to do here besides just baseball. The games make the schedule difficult at times, but we could go out to dinner or catch an occasional movie in a theater together.”

Harley reached up and scratched his head. “So why is it only you and me. There’s the whole rest of the team. Granted, I don’t know any of them much beyond the butt swats and the high-fives, but why are you such a loner?”

He had a point. I’d zeroed in so much on Chase, and then Javier tagged along. I could put more effort into the rest of the team. “I’m not the most social guy in the world. Don’t let me get in your way. If you want to make more friends, by all means, do it. Life’s too short to be lonely.”

Harley’s status as a veteran of more than five years in professional baseball started to show through. He rested his head on his hand and said, “Yeah, I get it. I used to be a lot more social, too. I’d hang around with the guys and watch dumb cable movies and make jokes about female anatomy. I guess I got bored, and I got tired of the jokes about Indiana. They were all amused by the real-life Hoosier. You aren’t like that. It’s a breath of fresh air.”

“Aww, thanks. Count me surprised in a good way about you, too. I’m still welcome at Chase and Aaron’s backyard barbecues, and Mo makes sure he always checks in before each game, but it’s great to hang out with another unattached guy.” I sipped my beer. “I’ve got a question for you. This might sound completely off topic, but I’ll ask anyway.”

Harley tilted his head to the right. “Please don’t ask me what Hoosiers really are.”

I laughed. “No, this is more serious. You know how most players have a charity they support? Or in some cases, the guys who’ve been around a long time have their own foundations? Mo gives shitloads of money to protect sea turtles.”

“Yeah, I think that’s one of the benefits. It’s cool to have enough money to make a difference like that.”

I dug at the beer bottle label again. “Yeah, exactly. That’s the way I feel, too, but I’m struggling with my cause. I’m sort of ashamed to admit it, but I haven’t done any volunteer work since high school, and then it wasn’t much.”

Harley asked, “Are you looking for something to support? I don’t have that problem at all. I know exactly what I want to do. I figured that out about three years ago when I thought I had a chance of getting called to fill in a gap in St. Louis. By the way, thanks for bringing it up. I need to make some phone calls here in Charlotte.”

“Wow, Harley. What is it? I’m seriously curious. What are you so into? You haven’t brought up anything like that yet.”

Harley grinned. “Animals. Well, dogs in particular, but if I get involved with shelters, it will be for all kinds of animals. It might sound horrible, but the member of the family I miss most is our dog, Tex. If you ever meet them, don’t say anything like that, but he’s the greatest dog ever, so I want to help out animal shelters in his honor.”

“Damn, I love animals, too.” I looked around the bar and leaned in close. “Hey, it’s noisy in here. Do you want to go and walk around the neighborhood and chat about this before we call it a night?

“Oh, yeah, definitely. You’re a dog lover, too?”

“I don’t think I would have ever played baseball if it wasn’t for George.”

“George?”

“Our golden retriever.”

Harley grinned. “I’ve got to hear this story. Yeah, let’s go, and it’s still early. We can chat.”

I watched Harley’s Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed the last of his beer. For some reason, it was hard for me to keep my eyes off the little details.

We walked to a small park a few blocks from the bar. The city kept the lights on late in the summer. We found an empty bench near a fountain and sat.

Harley said, “I feel like I’m still walking in a dream. Did you feel like that when you first got called up? It’s so unreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up in some dusty motel in northern Georgia.”

“You’ll get used to it, but enjoy it while you’ve got it. I love that sense of wonder, and you’ll never get it back. You’ll never be able to look at the big leagues like a rookie again. You’ll miss it when it’s gone.”

Harley nodded. “I guess you’re right. I was getting jaded in Chattanooga. Seriously, I thought I only had a year or two before my baseball career would end, and then this year it all came together for some reason.”

I whispered, “Late bloomer.”

“Tell me that dog story.”

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot that’s what I was supposed to talk about next. It doesn’t take long to tell. It’s pretty simple, but I guess the littlest events can change everything.”

Harley rubbed his hands over his jeans and turned his head to face me.

I said, “My next-door friend, Robbie, and I were tossing a football around in the backyard one summer. I think I was eight years old. I was a skinny little kid, and I was so uncoordinated. I couldn’t master a football. Every time I threw it, the football wobbled or rolled end over end.

“Robbie was two years older than me, and he’d stomp up to me and say, ‘You hold it like this. Fingers between the laces and give it a spin when you let go.’”

Harley said, “Footballs are too big for a little kid’s hand.”

“No, Robbie was a football fanatic. He had an uncle somewhere in the Atlanta Falcons organization. He got a football that was smaller than regulation size. I was too uncoordinated. That was my problem.”

“And what does this have to do with a dog?”

I smiled and reached out to grip Harley’s shoulder. It was strong. For a moment, I didn’t want to let go. I said, “George, my family’s golden retriever, was in the yard with us. Every time one of us missed the football, he hunted it down. It was too big for George’s mouth so he couldn’t bring it back. He’d stand there and bark at it until one of us walked over and picked it up.”

“He sounds like a great dog.”

“Well, here’s the twist. Here’s how George changed my life.”

Harley leaned slightly closer. “Let me guess. Did you fall and break a leg, and he hunted for your parents?”

“Nothing like that. Nobody got hurt. Robbie threw a ball way off the mark. As he said, ‘Well, I know that doesn’t work,’ the ball landed several feet back into the weeds at the edge of the yard. George chased after it like usual, but he veered off the path. He stuck his nose down into the weeds about three feet away and rooted around. I said, ‘No, buddy. It’s about three feet in the other direction.’”

“What was he after?”

“I wondered about that, too. Robbie and I both watched wondering if he’d found a rabbit hole. George pulled his muzzle out of the weeds and started to trot back in my direction. When he got closer, my chin dropped. I saw what he found. George had a baseball in his mouth.”