Page 3 of Sliding into Love
Technically, they’re right. They just have no clue of the level to which I’ve taken things.
There are a few emails on my phone waiting for me from my time in the meeting. There’s a request for funding to another charity. The answer is probably yes. I forward it to my assistant to review. The second notification I spot tells me the testing on the new product line is ready to go. That will require a trip to the factory for an in-person assessment. I send it to my assistantas well with a note to factor in my new responsibilities with the team.
As well as being the owner and operator of Ember Heights, my overhead company for all my businesses, I just signed papers to acquire and manage the Bellport Blue Jays baseball team. Thanks to my future brother-in-law Finn, I’ll be turning the team into an LGBTQ+ haven for athletes. It will match the already growing movement in Bellport teams having support to be themselves without scrutiny from within.
Truly, I can’t complain. As a non-binary pansexual, I feel there can never truly be enough representation out there. I’d have killed to see an out and proud sports star as a kid. Hell, I’d have taken any type of famous person living as their true self. It didn’t even have to be sports.
And now, thanks to my overzealous family, I’m going to be a part of that change. This will be the first role where I’ll be the face of the company. No more hiding behind Ember Heights or the false identities I’ve created for my more dangerous side quests.
My phone rings as I’m getting my car from the valet. I answer, connecting to the Bluetooth so I can focus on driving. Too many people are easily distracted on the roads today. I believe it stems from a lack of discipline. If people could keep their lives in better order, then there would be no reason to make that last-minute phone call.
Years ago, we didn’t even have mobile phones. Now we’re so addicted to the fucking things they had to make laws to get people to put the things down long enough to remain safe on the road.
But I digress. No need to rant to myself when I’m following the best practices.
“Yes?” I answer succinctly.
No need for frills. Anyone calling my number knows what they’re getting. If they don’t, then too damn bad. I don’t have time to sugarcoat everything.
“How did it go? Everything get all done on your end?” Bellamy’s voice booms through my car speakers. I turn the volume down as I merge into traffic from the parking garage. Despite Bellport’s modest size, downtown is always a busy swell of vehicles and cyclists making deliveries. I have to pay attention so as not to clip anyone around me.
Once I’m safely on the road, I answer him. “It’s done. Ron assured me he’s filing it all today. It’s official.”
Bellamy lets out a whoop, which is quickly followed by a squeal. I chuckle at the sound.
“Hello, Finn. Should have known he had you with him.”
It’s rare the two of them are ever far apart. The boy even travels with Bell during the season as part of the man’s contract. I’d never heard of a team catering so much to the whims of one, but alas, he's a Bellport too. There’s more to this than even they understand.
My brother-in-law gives a hum of agreement. “He’s been a nervous wreck all morning, Royce. I’ve tried to tell him you’ve got it handled. He’s just?—”
“Too much of a bear to listen? Yes, I think so too. I’m glad you and I can agree.”
As I suspected he would, Bellamy huffs but manages to stop his cheering. “I’ll have you know I’m no bear. Not like that anyway. I just wanted to check on you. I hadn’t heard anything.”
“Because I just left the meeting, Bell. It’s not like it was hours ago. Geesh! Give me a minute to actually call you.”
He sighs. “Ok, ok. I get it. I’m hovering. I just… I really want this for Finn. And for you. I think it will be good for you to have something to manage like this.”
I roll my eyes.Clueless overbearing brother of mine.He has no idea how much I actually manage at a time.
“You’re lucky the people of Bellport love you. Otherwise, they might scream monopoly since our family now owns every major sports team here. You know this is ludicrous, right?”
“Not really. I think it’s good. We have the resources to make this safe and welcoming for everyone. The players, the workers, the fans—they all benefit.”
I don’t tell him he’s right. We all know he is.
When I don’t speak again, he asks, “How do you feel about this? Still going to be ok?”
I tense at the question. Not because I’m offended, but because I don’t have an honest answer for him.
Will I be ok taking over the team? Sure thing. I can make it work in my lifestyle with some careful adjustments of my daily tasks. Within a few months, I’ll have it all figured out.
Will I be ok co-managing the team with the previous owner, a man whom I dislike on a cellular level? Absolutely the fuck not. I have not allowed myself to think of it. I can’t.
“All will be well,” I say, sounding more like a yoga instructor than myself. My cool demeanor trembles as frustrated thoughts run on repeat in my head.
He’s going to be worse now.
