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False Start -5&6- by Melanie E
🕑 Added 2024-02-13 05:14:56 +0000 UTC5. Play Ball
I glanced at myself in the rear-view mirror for no more than the seventy-third time since leaving Jaime’s place, not sure whether to feel elated or appalled at the results.
Jaime was a genius when it came to hair, even when all he was doing was a trim and clean-up. He had insisted on doing a bit more than that, of course… but not a lot.
What I left with was a hair trim that kept my style more or less what it had been for the last several years, perhaps a bit long and well-manicured for a guy, but nothing exceedingly feminine either if I didn’t take the time to give it some style.
No, the hair hadn’t done much to change my appearance one way or the other.
The makeup had, though.
It wasn’t a lot – not much more than I ever wore, really. Just a bit of foundation….
And a touch, just a touch, of eyeliner, to help them pop.
And some eyebrow pencil, because he wasn’t any happier with how aggressively I’d plucked than I was.
And of course, it being cold out, he’d insisted we do some kind of gloss to keep my lips safe.
And if we were going to be there hanging out he wanted my opinion on a new nail polish he was thinking about stocking in the shop. Nothing crazy, but they had a blue that matched my sweater almost perfectly….
“Blue is a manly color,” I told myself unconvincingly, even as my shiny pastel blue nails glinted in the California winter sun.
If I were being honest with myself, being more prettied up did have me feeling better, but it also had me feeling nervous.
Was it the first time I’d ever been out of the house fully en femme? No, of course not. Heck, you could argue that’s how I usually left, given the massacre I’d done to my male wardrobe. I’d done plenty of my grocery shopping or clothes shopping girl-ed up, and even gone to a few clubs, with and without some of my girlfriends and guy friends to back me up.
But my manly day wasn’t the day to do that, was it?
I double-checked my GPS, just to make sure I was still on track for my next destination.
Step Two: Get a Manly Haircut had been an even worse failure than my Manly Meal had been, though I couldn’t blame Jaime for that. He was right: I hadn’t really wanted to do it, and I was pretty sure that if we had I’da spent the next two hours crying on his couch rather than trying out different nail polishes and eating Too Many Brownies.
And I did like how I looked. A lot.
But….
“Stay in the right two lanes, and take the next exit,” the GPS told me, and I dutifully obeyed it, since there was no way I’d be able to find my destination otherwise.
Well, the meal and the haircut might not have gone how they were supposed to, but I still had a chance to salvage the last part of my Be A Man Plan: the sports thing. According to my research that morning all I had to do was show up, and the game was free to watch, since they didn’t expect a lot of people to be there. Donations were being taken, but it was mostly just a way for the college’s baseball team and some of the alumni to have a bit of fun in the off-season.
Thankfully I’d eaten half my burger while at Jaime’s, with the cape on to boot, so I didn’t think I’d feel too tempted by any of the concession stand foods. Good thing, too – I didn’t want to risk a second mustard incident in one day.
After a few roundabout turns and one accidental veer down a side street I finally pulled into the parking lot near the college’s baseball field. It was less than a third full, so I felt pretty confident I was correct in my assumption it would be a quiet game, though even from outside the fence I could hear the sound of the bat cracking as it hit a ball, and the muffled rumble of the announcer’s voice.
I checked in at the entrance with no issues, and gave a five dollar donation when asked, just to not feel rude, then headed toward the stands.
The field was nothing fancy, and the audience seating was almost completely empty…
Almost.
“Is that? Hey! Hey, Courtney!”
I winced as I turned, tracking the voice I heard along the seats, back to a smiling elf, waving at me excitedly.
“Courtney! Over here!”
I considered pretending she had the wrong person, but decided against it, and walked over. She patted the bench next to her, and I sat down, making sure I didn’t sit on the edge of my sweater.
“Wow! I didn’t expect to see you here! Oh, you look cute!”
“Ah, hey Darla. Same?” It was true – she was wearing a letterman’s jacket that was about four times too big for her, and a pair of black yoga pants, with her dark hair tied back in a bun. She looked like the perfect Girlfriend At The Game. I laughed a bit nervously. “I, umm… what are you doing here?”
Darla giggled. “I’m here to watch Tony play!”
“Tony?” I blanched. Darla was my boss’s daughter, and Tony was his son… the same son who had asked me to dance the night before. “T-t-tony’s playing in this game?”
“Of course! Dad had business to attend to today or he’d be here, too, playing on the alumni side. You didn’t know?”
“No, no I didn’t,” I said, feeling even more nervous as I thought about what I was wearing. “Umm….”
“That sweater is amazing! Where did you get it?”
“It was a gift?” I said. “I don’t normally dress like this,” I added lamely, not sure where to go with it.
“I know, I’ve seen you at work. Sometimes I’d swear you were trying to look like a guy!”
“Ah, heheh, yeah?”
“Like last night at the New Year’s party, those shoes! I told Tony that you probably wouldn’t dance with him because you must be a lesbian wearing shoes like that – are you?”
“What? I mean, no?” The conversation wasn’t going anywhere like what I thought it would. “You don’t think I look like a guy?”
Darla laughed at that. “Come on. I don’t think you could pass as a guy if you grew a three foot beard and started weight lifting.”
“Eww.”
“Right?” Darla giggled again. “So, if you’re not a lesbian, and you didn’t know Tony would be here, does that mean you’re here to watch your boyfriend play?”
“I-- I mean, I don’t have-- I’m not.” I sighed, and decided to just let it go. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend either,” I said, laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation.
“Tony’ll be happy to hear that,” Darla said ominously. “Oh, look, the first inning’s about to start!”
Thankful for the distraction, I turned my attention to the game, watching as the players headed out to the field. Sure enough, I recognized Tony walking toward the base at the back.
“So Tony plays… back base?” I hazarded.
“Second base,” Darla corrected me.
“Oh.”
Once the college kids were in place I watched an older gentleman walk up to the base nearest us, a bat in hand.
“That’s D.W. Walker, he’s one of Dad’s friends. Owns the fig farms out near the highway. Him and Dad took the college all the way to the championships back when they were on the team.”
“That’s nice,” I said, watching the pitcher wind up and toss a ball. It looked like it went right across the plate, but the guy at bat just stood there. “Why didn’t he swing?”
“Too far in,” Darla said, her eyes never leaving the field.
“Oh, yeah. Of course.”
Another throw, and this time a crack as the bat made contact with the ball, sending it flying to the left.
“He hit it! But why isn’t he running?”
“Foul ball. See how it’s outside the lines?” Darla shook her head. “You don’t know much about baseball, do you?”
“Umm… no. Not really.”
Darla giggled again and slid over on the bench. “Here, let me help you.”
I felt lost as Darla started explaining to me what the positions were, and how they worked, and how batters had to judge pitchers, and more.
“So Tony just stands there and waits for someone else to throw the ball to him?”
“Sorta. Tony’s real strength is as a batter, but he’s got a good arm, and a good eye. Not enough to get the ball in from the fence, but good enough for where he’s at.”
I nodded, pretending like I understood what any of that meant.
When the teams changed positions she tried to explain more. “See, Tony comes up fourth in batting. He tends to get big hits, so this way he can clear the bases if there are runners on the field. Home runs.”
“So the best batters don’t go first?”
“It depends on what the team is trying to do. Getting on base is one thing, but getting back to home is a whole other story.”
“Oh. And Tony does that?”
“As often as he can.”
The first batter for the college got what Darla called a grounder, barely making it to the first base before the ball did, and the second batter struck out. The team’s third batter gave Darla a wink before he stepped up to the plate, and pegged the ball out into the green on the left side of the field, giving him time to make it to first, and the guy on the first base to second. Once there, he looked at Darla and gave her a big wave.
“Someone you know?” I asked her, smiling at the blush on her cheeks.
“Yeah, Eddie. He’s a friend of mine and Tony’s.”
“Just a friend?” I asked teasingly.
“Oh, would you look at that? Tony’s coming out. HEY TONY!!” Darla yelled, pointedly ignoring me.
Tony turned to look at us, grinning when he saw Darla… and grinning even wider when he spotted me. Just like Eddie had done, he gave us a wink before stepping up to bat.
“Why is he on the other side of the base?”
“The plate. And Tony’s a lefty, it’s part of what makes him a useful batter.”
We watched as the pitcher shifted positions, sizing Tony up.
He reared back, lifting his front foot, then launched the ball down the line.
Whiff
“Strike one!”
Tony shook his head and stepped back, swinging the bat a couple of times before stepping back into the box next to the base… err, plate.
Once again the pitcher reared back, lifting his foot, before bringing it down and almost touching the ground with his fingertips as he catapulted the ball at the plate.
C-RACK!
I jumped a bit at the volume as the bat made contact with the ball, sending it flying almost right over the pitcher’s head, straight out to the fence.
Tony took off like a rocket, and so did the other guys on base, racing around the bases and in to home, Tony making it right before the ball made it back, sliding in with a plume of dust.
“SAFE!”
Darla grabbed my hand and jumped up, screaming in excitement, and I couldn’t help but join in, glad for her brother and what he had apparently done.
There was a brief discussion on the field, then Tony came over and looked through the fence at us.
“Hey sis. And is that you, Courtney?”
“Sure is!” Darla answered for me. “She’s here all alone, so I’m explaining the game to her.”
“Alone?”
“Yep.”
“Great. I mean, umm.” Tony grinned, just a little goofily. “You look nice.”
I blushed.
“Tony! Back on the bench!”
Tony waved to us before running back over to the bunker, getting a few high-fives from his teammates before sitting down again.
Darla bumped me with her shoulder. “Toldja he’d be happy.”
All I could do was blush even more.
At the end of the inning the score was 4-2, in the college kids’ favor, with Darla assuring me that the only reason the alumni were doing so well was that they had a few minor league-ers on their side.
I half-watched the game and half-chatted with Darla, both of us enjoying the way the sun helped fight the January chill. We’d both go quiet any time Tony or Eddie went to bat, and cheer when they got a hit and pout when they didn’t. I wanted to tease Darla about her obvious (reciprocated) crush… but I also didn’t want to draw any more teasing about her brother than I was already getting.
Was going to a baseball game still manly when one of the players kept flirting with you between innings? I wasn’t sure if it was.
It seemed like the game went on forever before Darla told me it was the last inning, and after one more big hit from Tony the game wrapped with a final score of 16-9, the college kids winning the day. This seemed to be the expected outcome, but everyone in the stands made sure to congratulate all the players, student and alumi alike, as they came off the field.
Once again Darla kept hold of my hand, not letting me disappear like I wanted to.
Not until Tony got to us.
“Hey girls,” he said, wiping dust off his uniform with a towel. “Courtney, was nice to see you up there. I didn’t know you were a baseball fan.”
“Umm, yeah,” I agreed, wincing a bit when Darla squeezed my hand and trying to ignore the sniggers coming from where she stood. “I’ve been to every game this year.”
Tony thought about that for half a second, then chuckled. “Heh. Good one! Well, let me know next time you’re coming, I’ll lend you my jacket so you can stay warmer.”
“The one Darla’s wearing?”
“Hmm? No, that’s Eddie’s,” he said, grinning.
So much for just friends, I thought, not unkindly.
I shook my head. “I couldn’t do that. That’s the kinda thing you do for a girlfriend.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Tony said, cocking his head and grinning at me. “Well?”
“I… I….” I stammered. “I don’t….”
Tony’s grin grew wider. “Not sure about being my girlfriend?”
I tried to say something else, but just shook my head.
“Tell ya what, then. Got anything I can write on?”
“Here ya go,” Darla said, handing him a slip of paper and the eyeliner pencil from my bag.
He was still smiling as he wrote his number on the piece of paper, then tore part of it off. “What’s your number?” He asked me, and I guess I answered, because he started writing something on the other scrap. “A’ight, I’ll call you later tonight, if you don’t call me first, and we can set up a trial date. Sound good?”
“Trial date?”
“Nothing serious, just dinner and a movie or something. You like movies?”
“Yeah?”
“Good.” He pressed the piece of paper with his number on it into my free hand, then gave me an unexpected hug, filling my nose with the scent of his exercise-enfused uniform, then did the same to his sister. “I gotta run, I’d invite you to the after-game festivities but it’s gonna be a bit of a bore.”
“No prob, bro,” Darla said for us, lifting our still-joined hands to wave him off.
I watched Tony’s back as he walked away, trying to figure out just what had happened.
“You’ve got a date!” Darla squealed, answering my unasked question. “Isn’t that great?!”
All I could do was gulp in answer.
###
6. Homebody
“Blegh,” I grumbled as I once again collapsed on my couch.
My man-day be damned, I’d stopped by a supermarket on my way home for a quart of brownie fudge chunk ice cream, and as soon as I’d walked in the door I’d headed to my bedroom to strip out of the jeans, boots, and still absolutely gorgeous sweater, and into a pair of my comfort jammies – flannel, in a lilac with a kitten print on them – and my bunny slippers.
That done, I’d grabbed my ice cream and a big spoon and gotten ready for a good sulk.
So much for getting a head start on being more manly, I moped, using the remote to scan through movies and TV shows on my streaming box. Needing something comforting and not too heavy, I settled on Friendship is Magic and dropped the remote back on the coffee table.
Sitting cross-legged on the couch with my ice cream in my lap, I watched my cartoon, and thought about my Be A Man Plan.
Step 1: Eat a Manly Meal. I’d had half the burger in between painting my nails and getting my makeup done. Not exactly what I’d intended.
Step 2: Get a Manly Haircut. My split ends were gone, but I’d left my scrunchie at Jaime’s, and whatever dry shampoo he’d put in still smelled like strawberries.
Step 3: Do a Manly Activity. I’d gone to a baseball game, only to have my boss’s daughter have to explain what was going on to me, while her brother kept hitting on me.
I glanced down at my hand, still tightly clutching the now very rumpled slip of paper with my plan on it. I turned the paper over, and there was Tony’s number: he’d torn off the blank part of the paper to write mine on.
I harrumphed a bit and ate a giant spoonful of ice cream. Maybe a brain freeze would help to knock some brain cells loose so I could make some sense of the whole situation.
Should I call him?
I shook my head. Of course not. He thinks I’m a girl, and I’m not.
...He is cute, though.
I shook my head again. Cute didn’t matter: I wasn’t a girl.
So… no. No phone call to Tony, no matter how cute he was.
Besides, he’s the bosses son. There’s gotta be something wrong with that too.
Wallowing in my sorrows, I watched my cartoon some more. At least I could always rely on Pinkie Pie to brighten my day.
Maybe I should call him, and let him know I’m a guy?
I didn’t like that idea either.
Work is gonna be so awkward on Monday.
I whimpered a little at that, and took another big spoon of my ice cream.
I was half-way through my third episode – and about two-thirds of the way through my ice cream – when my phone toodled at me, letting me know I had a message.
It was Tony:
“Hey! Was great seeing you at the game today! I told Dad you were there, and he asked if I finally asked you out LOL.”
He what?
My phone blooped again.
“What you doing Saturday? Want to see a movie?”
….
I can’t.
I shouldn’t.
I won’t.
….
“OK,” I typed in, then sent the message before I second guessed it.
Almost immediately there was another bloop.
“Great! Meet @ the factory 4 ish?”
“OK,” I typed again, this time followed by a smiling emoji.
He sent another smiling emoji back.
I sighed, and took another bite of ice cream.
So much for being more manly. Instead of proving I could do it, I’d gotten some amazing new clothes, and a makeover, and scored a date with a hunky college guy.
Could I have screwed the day up any worse?
As if in answer, my phone blooped again. This time, it was a message from my boss:
“Heard from Tony U agreed to date. Be good 2 him. Also, Darla showed me pix of U at game. Nice 2 see U dressed pretty. Wear 2 work Monday? Roy”
Why does he always sign his texts?
I looked at the message.
I looked at my plan.
I looked at the TV.
I looked at my ice cream.
With another sigh I turned my phone off and settled down into cartoons.
Saturday was still five days away.
Still plenty of time to try and put my Be A Man Plan into action before then, right?
I thought about it.
It didn’t work out today, but maybe I just chose the wrong things. And my outfit didn’t help either.
Yes. First thing tomorrow I go shopping for Manly Clothes! That’ll help! I smiled to myself and took another bite of ice cream, this one in victory.
Sicario’s has a big men’s section. And while I’m there I can check out that shoe sale they’ve got going on. So long as I don’t buy any… I mean, it’s not un-manly just to look, is it?
I assured myself it wasn’t, and smiled again, proud of myself for not giving up.
Though maybe I will pick up a new outfit for Saturday. Just in case.
Yeah.
Other than that, nothing but manly things.
And some stockings.
###
--End--
