CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

 

BILLY HAULED the equipment bag across the grass toward the field. With his moving and all the stuff with the building, he’d been neglecting the kids. He’d even let Bruce coach the last game. He wanted to make it up to them. Maybe some pizza after practice.

As he got close to the benches and picnic table where they stashed their gear, he saw Bruce running toward him from the parking lot, waving an arm. He smiled and waved back, then started unloading gear. He felt so good. Every minute with Shaz was like a new life. Even the party had been fun. Man, how did he get so lucky?

“Billy!”

He looked up. What? Bruce wasn’t smiling. Walking from the parking lot several yards behind him came Carl Jenkins and a couple of the other parents, JT Smith’s mom and a woman Billy’d seen but never met.

Bruce got there, breathing hard, and grabbed his arm. “Billy, they want to fire you. They say you’re a pervert or something. I’m so sorry. I don’t want this to happen, but why don’t you go for now, because those people are mean and have shit for brains.”

So this was it. The Universe had dished out some goodies and wanted to be paid. He clenched his hands, then relaxed them. “Thanks, Bruce. I guess I’ll hear what they have to say.”

Jenkins got to him first, with the two women trailing. He held a newspaper out in front of him, shaking it toward Billy. “Is this you? Of course it’s you. When I asked about that god-awful fag you brought to this practice field, you said you worked for him. Not that he was your boyfriend. This was lying on my front porch. What if Willie had seen it? You’re a liar and a pervert and you’re done, Ballew.”

Billy reached out and snatched the shaking paper from Jenkins’s hands. It was the cover of the fashion section of the Orange County newspaper. A big picture of Shaz clinging to Billy’s arm appeared under the headline OC Designer Nabs Fashion Institute Award for Best Stylist. Billy smiled. He handed it back to Jenkins. “I’m surprised you read the fashion section. Great picture, huh?”

“Is that all you have to say?” Jenkins’s lips were white, he held them so tightly.

Billy sighed. “Mr. Jenkins, several times you’ve complimented me on my coaching. You even asked me to spend more time with your son.” Billy pointed at the picture. “This is the same person you were complimenting. Just a little better dressed.”

“You’re insane. I always knew there was something sneaky and weird about you.”

The woman whose name he didn’t know waved a hand. “I homeschool my children so they’ll be raised according to God’s word. I don’t expect them to be exposed to this kind of sick example.”

Billy glanced up and saw some of the kids assembling on the field. They were edging closer, obviously wanting to hear what was going on. “Bruce, will you hit some grounders to the kids? Get them going?”

“Sure, Billy. I’m sorry about this. I don’t agree with any of it. You’re a great coach.”

Jenkins snarled, “We can do without you too, Mortensen.”

“Oh yeah? Do me, my wife, and three kids fall into your definition of perversion, Carl?”

Billy shook his head and nodded toward the kids, who looked plenty curious and upset. Bruce made a disgusted sound, spit on the lawn, and marched off toward the team.

What a crock. He stared down at Jenkins and the two women. “When I was a kid, I got bullied a lot. I didn’t grow until late, so I couldn’t defend myself. When I grew up, I started coaching Little League because I wanted to give kids a safe place to play and learn to respect each other. Their enjoyment is the only thing I get out of it.”

“How do we know what you get out of it, Ballew? How do we know what you’re doing to our kids?”

Billy caught his breath. “Be careful, Jenkins. I may be a fag, but I guarantee I hit hard.”

All three of the parents stepped back with stunned expressions.

Billy shook his head. “Hell, how could I teach kids to respect each other when they have crap parents like you?”

He grabbed the equipment bag that contained all the stuff he’d bought for the team with his own money over the years and hauled it back to his truck. He could hear Jenkins yelling, “I’ll have you arrested for threatening me. You fag pervert.”

He’d wanted to know what it would be like to be gay. He’d found out.

 

 

BILLY SIGHED and let Shaz rock him on the couch. They’d kept Shaz’s leather sectional in the living room and put Billy’s midcentury acquisition in the office. The rocking felt nice against the suede.

Shaz smoothed his hair. “I’m so sorry, baby. Isn’t it strange that the most evil people in the world masquerade as good? I know how much the team meant to you.”

“I hate to think of my kids with parents like that. Poor Willie.”

Shaz shuddered, and Billy sat up. “I’m sorry. I know your father probably made Jenkins look like a saint.”

“Maybe. But you’ve done a lot of good, Billy. No matter what the parents say, those kids know you, and they’ll never forget what you taught them.”

Billy nodded.

“So come on, let’s study. You only have two days until the test.”

Billy’s turn to shudder.

“Lie down and I’ll read the questions to you.”

Billy stretched out. Crap, just answering the questions freaked him out.

“The minimum live load that must be sustained by a roof with a slope less than four in twelve is how many pounds per square foot?”

Billy sighed. “Twenty.”

“When referring to excavation, how is material measured?”

Billy’s phone rang. He sat up and reached in his pocket. “Cubic yards.”

“Right.”

He glanced. Didn’t recognize the number. “Hello.”

“Is this Billy Ballew?”

“Yes.”

“This is Marshall Hendrick, Coach Ballew. I’m the head of the Little League Board of Directors.”

Billy sighed again. Shit. “Yes, sir.”

“We’re having a board meeting this Saturday. I wonder if you could come and see us.”

Same day as the test. “Sorry. I have a very important appointment on Saturday. And quite frankly, sir, I don’t see any need. The parents made it clear they don’t want me around. Coach Mortensen will do a good job. I only coached to help the kids. I don’t want to upset anyone, and I could get pretty damned upset at one of the fathers. So I don’t see any reason to come.”

“How about tomorrow night?”

“Sir—”

“We’d really appreciate it, Coach.”

He blew out his breath and didn’t care if the man heard it. “All right. Where and when?” Hendrick gave him an address, and he motioned to Shaz to write it down. Then he hung up. “They want me to come see them.”

“Who are these people?”

“Volunteers who run the Little League. They want me to come at six o’clock.”

“I guess you can go.” Shaz smiled gently. “You don’t have Little League practice.”

Billy nodded.

“You made yourself clear, Billy. To that man on the phone. So I don’t think we’re talking a repeat of that performance on the practice field.”

“Maybe not.”

“I’ll come with you and wait in the car, okay?”

“Will you come with me to the meeting?”

Shaz stared at him. Then he slowly nodded.

 

 

THE “BOARD room” turned out to be the back room of a community center in Irvine. Shaz parked the Jag and turned to Billy in the passenger seat. “I’m sorry you have to do this the day before the test. Just remember, we can turn and walk out. You need to get ready for tomorrow, and I have some special preparations planned.”

Billy looked up. His wide eyes looked almost as interested as they were stressed. “Oh really?”

“Yes.” Shit, if this meeting went south, it could wreck all of Shaz’s plans. He took a breath. Worry about that later. “Let’s go get this over with.”

He hopped out his side and caught up with Billy, who was striding toward the community center like Sherman marching on Atlanta. Shaz had to take extra steps to keep up. Inside, they spied a handwritten sign that said Little League and followed it.

Outside the room, Billy paused. He’d worn his new good jeans and a light sweater. The play of the fabric across his huge shoulders made him look about as masculine as a man could get. Shaz touched his arm. “You sure you want me there? I’m kind of a statement.”

Billy touched his neck. “You’re gorgeous and I’m proud of you.”

Shaz fanned his face. So sweet. “At least I butched up a little for you.” He’d worn jeans and a conservative, dark sweater, with his hair wrapped in a tail.

Billy smiled.

“I know. Hopeless cause.”

They walked into the room side by side. A bunch of people sat there, with seven of them at a long table and the rest in chairs in front of the table. Every eye turned to Billy and Shaz. Dear God, this feels like going back in time. Grandfather’s church council looked like this—but worse.

The man at the center of the table—sandy-haired, about forty, and desperately in need of a hairstyle—stood up. “Coach Ballew?”

Billy nodded.

“I’m Mitch Hendrick. I called you.”

“Yes. This is my—” Tiny pause. “—partner, Chase Phillips.”

Son of a bitch.

“I see. Please come up and take a seat.”

A couple of people moved over in the first row of chairs so Billy and Shaz could sit in front of the table. Billy looked up. He was giving no quarter. “What did you want to see me about?”

“There seems to have been some misunderstanding among parents of players on your team.”

Billy shook his head. “No misunderstanding. They don’t want gay coaches. I’m gay.”

Wow.

“This seems to have been a recent problem.”

Billy sat back a bit. “I apologize for not letting the Board know I was gay when I applied to coach. I actually didn’t know it at the time, or I would never have put you in this position.” He shrugged.

“Really?” That was one of the women at the table

Billy gave her a small grin. “Yeah. I’m slow that way. Anyway, I am gay and have no intention of defending it, so I’m not sure why I’m here.”

Hendrick picked up a piece of paper. “A few of the parents on your team seem to be under the mistaken impression that Little League discriminates against gay men as coaches. We have no such policy. Since this, uh, misunderstanding occurred, we’ve heard from many of the other parents and most of the kids on the team as well as your assistant coach, all telling us that they’ve never had or seen a better baseball coach in their lives, and if we accepted your resignation, they’d leave the league and ask you to start your own team.” He picked up a pile of papers. “We asked you to come here because we wanted to meet you and to give you all these e-mails. I think you’ll get a kick out of them.”

Shaz stared at the stack of papers. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

The woman who had spoken earlier looked at Shaz. “You’re Chase Phillips, the man in the newspaper?”

“Yes.”

“Congratulations on your award.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled. “How would you like to design some new uniform shirts for the team?”

Shaz started to laugh. Welcome to Leave It to Beaver world.

 

 

IT TOOK another half hour before they escaped the clutches of Little League, by which time Billy had agreed to do a special training workshop for all the Little League coaches in the county and Shaz was contemplating hat designs to go with the shirts. Back in the Jag, Billy leaned against the passenger seat as Shaz drove. “That was wild.”

“I’m really happy for you, Billy. But you earned it. No reason why they shouldn’t appreciate you.”

Billy smiled. “You looked so shocked when they said it wasn’t their policy to discriminate against gay coaches.”

Shaz navigated down the road toward PCH. “It’s not always easy for me to get that there are good people in the world and not everyone hates you if you’re gay.”

“You’ve had a lot of bad shit happen.”

“Yes, but I meant what I said at the Gala. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. There’s a goodness about you, Billy. People feel it. I feel it.”

Billy snorted. “Good and terrified. All I want to know is what’s my surprise for studying, and it better be good because I’m scared shitless.”

Shaz laughed. “Oh yeah. It’s good, baby, it’s good.”

Billy watched the shops go by as they drove toward Shaz’s, uh, their house. Worrying about Little League had been good. It had distracted him from the terror over the test. Now it was back, man. He could throw up all over Shaz’s car. Having Shaz help him meant everything, but it freaked him out more. What if he failed? Oh shit, letting Shaz down would be so bad. Billy was barely an equal partner in this relationship as it was. Shaz made more money. Shaz owned the house and the fancy car. If Billy couldn’t even do the building for him, what good was he? Shaz could say sweet things about how he didn’t deserve Billy and all that crap, but the truth was Billy didn’t deserve Shaz. God, he wanted to run.

“You’re thinking way too hard.” Shaz pulled into the driveway and navigated the narrow garage. He pressed the button for the garage door.

Billy put his hand on the door handle. Going inside put him that much closer to tomorrow. Shaz pulled his door open. “Come on, big guy. We’re going to have some fun.”

Billy shook his head. “Nothing about this is fun.”

“You’re psyching yourself out. Stop it. Come on.” He pulled on Billy’s arm.

Billy sighed, swung out, and followed Shaz into the kitchen. The cats danced around the floor, announcing their presence with authority.

Shaz looked over his shoulder as he walked out of the kitchen. “Would you feed the boys? Plus you’ll find some things in there for us. I’m going to go prepare our study session. Okay?” The last word was said with a wiggle of his hips. Okay, so Billy might be terrified, but his cock wasn’t. The beast bounced in reply to Shaz’s invitation as Shaz rounded the kitchen island and headed toward the stairs.

Billy opened the refrigerator, getting a fur massage on both legs. Beside the packages of home-cooked, superhealthy, superexpensive cat food that Shaz always got for the boys was a plate of cheese, another plate of strawberries, sliced pears, and melon, and, beside that, one of many bottles of champagne and two glasses chilling. Okay, sexy picnic. That did sound a little fun.

He filled the cat dishes and gave the boys water, then placed all the food plates on a tray with some napkins and the crackers Shaz had left on the counter. He picked up the tray and started upstairs. Butterflies soared in his stomach, and not many were because of tomorrow’s test. Good.

When he walked in the bedroom, he about dropped the tray. Candlelight flickered off every wall and surface, a big cotton comforter covered the bed, and Shaz sat against the headboard wearing only his aqua boxer briefs and holding his study guide. All that was lovely, but Billy’s eyes riveted to the three dildoes lined up on the bedside table. He swallowed. “Uh—?”

Shaz extended a hand toward the toys. “Meet Papa Bear, Mama Bear and Baby Bear. We have no expectation of reaching Papa tonight, but I put him there aspirationally.”

Something like a giggle popped out of Billy’s mouth. Shaz put down the study guide and hopped up from the bed. “Let me take that before we feed it to the cats.” He grabbed the tray, and all Billy could see was the bulge of his cock in the briefs and then the beautiful thrust of his butt as he carried the tray to the side table. Shaz looked over his shoulder at Billy. “Hungry?” He must have noticed the look in Billy’s eyes, because he smirked. “Yes, I can see you are. But remember, we’re studying.”

“We are?”

“Yes. Get undressed, please.”

“To study?”

“Yes. It’s required.”

He was confused, but his cock wasn’t. As he undressed, Shaz opened the champagne and poured two glasses, then carefully placed a big cushion in the middle of the bed. Okay, this looked like fun studying.

Shaz glanced over. “Hmm, you seem to like the lesson plan.”

Billy looked at his now bare and very upright penis. “Seems so.”

Shaz swayed his way to Billy and extended a glass of bubbly. Billy took it and they clinked, then Shaz gave a little salute to Billy’s cock and sipped his champagne. “Have a little food and we’ll get to work.”

Billy shoved a piece of cheese in his mouth. “Is this what they call work?”

“Trust me, you’re studying.”

He managed a couple of crackers, but he was too anxious. Interesting how Shaz had him looking forward to studying.

Shaz pointed to the pillow. “Lie down on your stomach.”

Billy dove into position. He glanced back and saw Shaz grab one of his economy-sized containers of lube. Looks promising. And his study guide. What the hell?

Shaz sat on the bed beside Billy’s well-presented ass. Finally. Ever since Shaz had found out that Billy wanted to bottom, he’d given no attention to Billy’s aching hole because he said he wanted to wait for “his surprise.” It looked like the drought might be over.

Shaz patted his butt, then cracked it a little harder. Fun. Billy looked back as Shaz separated his ass cheeks and slipped a little dollop of cool gel right where Billy most wanted it. “Yes.” The word came out on a long breath.

A very small digit inserted itself into Billy’s butthole. It felt weird. And it felt good. “Uh, you couldn’t find anything smaller?”

What had to be Shaz’s little finger pushed in farther. “Billy?”

“Mm.” He pushed his butt back so the finger slipped in another inch.

“Who do you contact before starting to work along the railroad tracks?”

“What? What the fuck?”

“Answer. Fast. Don’t think.”

“The Railroad Engineering Department.”

The finger pulled out and thrust back in. “How many guest rooms must a building have to be called a hotel? Answer!” Out and in.

Holy shit. “Five guest rooms.”

“Right.” Out, in. Out.

“Wait. What—?”

Something bigger and cold pushed against his opening. “How far from a crawl space or access door can cleanouts be?”

His head was swimming. “Tw-twenty.”

“Twenty what?”

“Feet. Twenty feet.” In. Out. In. Je-sus, it felt— “Holy shit. Oh my God.” His body lit up from the inside!

“May I introduce your prostate? What do you use to join a copper and a galvanized pipe?”

“A brass adaptor.” He shot his hips back against the wonderful intruder. “More. More.”

“Ah, see how we crave studying now?” Shaz set up a deep, steady rhythm with the dildo. “What do you call the place where a gable dormer meets the main roof?”

“A—a valley. Mmmm.”

Shaz laughed, but he didn’t stop. He moved on to a slightly larger dildo—and to the hardest legal questions. Billy’s lips opened and closed and made sounds, but he couldn’t hear them. He’d answer forever if Shaz just wouldn’t stop. In, out, in, out. Asphalt shingles. Liquid solar. Ordering structural steel. In. Out. Oh. My. God.

His balls tightened and his cock throbbed. So close. More. More. Heaven. More.

“With 120 tiles in a box, how many boxes of tile are needed to cover a wall six feet by ten feet using six-inch-square tiles?”

“Who-what?”

“Answer!”

Everything went black. A hot hand grabbed his cock and started to pump it. In. Out. In. “Answer!”

The world lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh God. Oh!”

“Answer!”

“Twooooooo.” Semen shot out of his cock onto the blanket and that perfect hand kept stroking as one, two, three more blasts poured out of his happy-dancing dick.

Billy’s body melted into the pillow he lay on. Wonder of wonders. The bed bounced as Shaz got up. Billy opened one eye. Shaz was gathering the dildoes and putting the lube away. What? “But wait. Aren’t you going to—?”

Shaz chuckled by his ear. “Fuck your adorable ass? No, my dear. That comes after the test. Now go to sleep and dream about what comes next.”

“But you—”

“I’m happy as a cross-dresser with a new garter belt. Go to sleep, darling. Sleep.”

Billy’s eyes felt heavy. He lay there with a satisfied body, staring at a funny, ragged stuffed cat. “Shaz?”

“Umm?”

“Tell me about the cat.”

“Oh, just an old souvenir.”

“Umm.” Despite all the potential terrors to come, Billy slept.