Inside Out (5 page)

He gawked. Then he muttered, “You’re as mixed up as Eric.” He grabbed his computer and slammed out of the door.

She stared at the door for several moments before moving. Then she tried to re-erect the wall that had fallen from around her heart. When the wall refused to budge, tears trickled down her face.

Erica sucked in a breath. Why couldn’t Trey accept the new her? His anger and confusion hung thick and heavy in the air, suffocating her. The heaviness in her heart threatened to crush her.

But sniffing back new tears, she rallied. She was not going to let him destroy her spirit. Obviously, he wasn’t the man she wanted him to be. That made them even.

As angry and hurt as she was, she couldn’t totally blame him. Eric’s alcoholism had been appalling. She didn’t know how Trey had lived with it as long as he had. And Eric hadn’t confided in him. Eric hadn’t done a lot of things he should have.

But Erica was a better person.
A whole person.
A happy person.
No matter what society thought, she was a good, decent person. And damn it! She was going to be happy if it killed her!

Fuck Trey if he couldn’t forgive and forget. She understood it was hard for people to get used to her change. She’d been dealing with this all her life and had only recently accepted herself. Still, she deserved to be treated with normal human decency. She’d accept nothing less.

She found her panties, put them on and flopped onto her chair. Then she called her friend Chantal, a transgender woman not as far along in the transformation process as herself, and counted the rings hoping it wouldn’t go to voice mail. She’d grown close to the other woman, and was helping her through the process. Their psychologist had introduced them and they’d become fast friends.

When Chantal finally answered, Erica groaned with relief and said, “God, I desperately need a drink. Don’t let me.”

“I’ll be right there. Where are you?” Chantal asked, concern ringing in her still raspy, masculine voice.

“At work.”
Hating herself for feeling weak, for wanting a drink, Erica rubbed her forehead. She hadn’t desired alcohol in more than a year and she yearned for a beer now because of Trey? Ironic chuckles escaped her lips. She wanted a drink because of the man who’d left her because she was an alcoholic.

“What happened?”

Erica dragged in a deep, ragged breath. “Trey…”

“Damn. Don’t touch anything stronger than water. The bastard’s not worth it.”

So she kept trying to tell herself…

Chapter Three

Trey’s computer mocked him all week. So did the ball fields.
And the team.
It seemed everything reminded him of Erica.

He paid an outrageous fee for a computer store to fix his laptop. To his annoyance, it still didn’t work. It booted up but overheated with less than an hour’s use.

He came to the disturbing conclusion that his computer needed Erica’s magic touch. He also knew his computer was the last one on earth she’d want to lay a hand on.
Unless he made amends.

The word
petition
rang in his mind. He’d rather buy out a florist than grovel to the league, but he knew all the flowers wouldn’t appease her.

Two petitions and several working pens in hand, he showed up to the game early that evening. He drew in a deep, cleansing breath and caught Clay alone.
“Coach.
I need a big favour.”

Clay took his time to finish what he was doing,
then
turned around. “What kind of favour?”

The words tasted like bile in Trey’s mouth but he spat them out as he pushed the pen and petition at Clay. “Sign this petition. Erica Metzger wants to play ball on our league.”

Clay scowled and took the paper. As he read it, his forehead puckered. “Who in hell is
Erica Metzger?
Why would I want to help someone I don’t know?”

Trey sucked in his breath. “She used to be Eric Metzger.” When Clay gave him a blank look, he continued, “My ex-partner. He was our shortstop.”

Clay scrubbed his chin with the heel of his hand. “Your boyfriend had a sex change? How do you feel about that?”

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“Then I mean your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We broke up four years ago.” After he voiced them, the words felt hollow. Yet he knew they were true.

“Then why would you want her on the league? I don’t want my ex underfoot any more than I want a woman on my team.” Clay spat on the ground by Trey’s feet.

Disgusted by the wad of grey phlegm, Trey moved back. “She’s a good player. She hasn’t forgotten how to play.”

“She’ll throw like a girl now.”

Trey cringed when his own words were thrown back in his face. “Give her a chance. If she’s no good, kick her off.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Trey whipped off his ball cap and shovelled his fingers through his hair. “What do you mean?”

Clay removed his glasses, cleaned his lenses with the tail of his shirt. Then he held them up to the sun and peered through them. Apparently satisfied, he hooked them over his ears. “I do you a favour, you do me a favour. That’s the way the world works.”

Trey wasn’t sure what he had that Clay would want. A direct marketer, he didn’t have things the normal Joe could use.
“How about a bet?”

Clay’s eyes lit up. Rumour had it he liked the ponies and he’d been spotted at the local casino a number of times. “What do you propose?”

Trey wasn’t the home run hitter Eric had been, but he was a decent enough batter. “That I can bat in at least three runs this game. If I do, you sign. If I don’t, I won’t ask again.”

Clay made a moue with his lips and seemed to consider it. Then he took a hand towel out of his back pocket and mopped his brow. “Tell you what. You get at least five
RBIs
and I’ll sign that thing.”

Five!
He’d need a hell of a lot of luck. Even if he batted five home runs, there was no guarantee anyone would be on base when he got up to bat. “Four.”

Clay stuck out his hand to shake. “You bring four batters home and I’ll sign your little paper.”

Trey shook his hand and squeezed it hard. He rolled up the petition, batted it against his thigh and went in search of his next victim.

By the end of the third inning, he only had five signatures and thirteen bets between his and the opposing team. He overheard several side wagers being made that he’d lose. Some of the guys bet how many
RBIs
he’d get.

A wry smile twisted his lips. He was exhausting himself trying to get the signatures, and he feared he wouldn’t get a hit, much less a good enough hit to bat many others in. He uncapped his bottle of water, took a swig,
then
poured the rest over his head.

Clay cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Kincaid! Get with the game and get on deck!”

Trey shook the water out of his eyes and wiped his face on his shirtsleeve. He grabbed his new bat, jammed his helmet on his head and strolled out to the deck. He eyed the man on first base and the batter who would make two. As he tapped his bat against his cleats, he hoped the batter would get on base but not bring home their teammate. That would give him two
RBIs
.

To his delight, when Trey got up to bat, he brought home both runners. His hopes soared as he slid into a cloud of dust at second.

At the end of the game, however, he’d only got those two.

When Clay slapped him on the back and said, “Tough break, pussy. You lose,” Trey swore under his breath.

He tried not to watch all the money changing hands or the snickers of not only his team but also the opposing one. Only the two umpires signed his petition, bringing the total to eight.

“Well, now I know why Erica doesn’t mind hanging out here,” the umpire with a tri-coloured goatee said as he returned Trey’s pen after signing. “It’s a shame she’s having trouble finding a team to play with. I hope you get enough signatures.”

Trey’s head was almost as sore as his heart but he appreciated this man’s kind words, the first of the night. He was tired of hearing his teammates put down Erica.
Like they were perfect.
Of all people, he’d thought they’d be understanding and sympathetic. “Thanks. I’m trying to help her.”

The man paused. “I’m Grover, by the way. If you have an extra form, I’ll take it with me and ask folks to sign at the other fields where I have games. You might also want to come to the big tournament here this weekend and ask all those people to sign.”

Hope flashed in front of him. Maybe this was doable. He dug his business card out of his wallet and handed it to his new friend along with the second petition. “Thanks for the tip. Call me if you have any questions or when you’re done. The name’s Trey Kincaid.”

Grover chuckled and read the card before putting it in his pocket. “I know. Number twelve.”

Trey waved as he headed to the crowd surrounding the concession stand. To his relief, he got six more names. A few others said they’d think about it.

Unfortunately, a couple of men made snide remarks about Erica and her transformation that made the hair on the back of his neck bristle. A strange and fierce protectiveness washed over him and he wanted to defend her. However, he removed himself from the field before he said or did something he regretted.

The rest of the evening he tossed and turned and beat up his pillow, yet still couldn’t release his anger.

* * * *

The following Saturday afternoon after she got home from her transgender support group meeting and lunch with her friends Chantal and Nicole, Erica pulled on her striped arm warmers, painted her nails,
then
applied flowery decals. She was catching up on all the feminine things she’d longed to do as a kid. As she primped, Madonna crooned in the background. She sang along at the top of her voice, not caring that she’d never win American Idol or even karaoke night at the local bar.

When someone knocked on her door, she grimaced. Since she wasn’t expecting anyone and she didn’t feel like company, she ignored the summons.

The knocking grew louder, however. “It’s Trey. I know you’re home. Let me in. I have something for you.”

Erica’s heart did several funny little skips. She was sorely tempted to tell him again to get lost. In particular, she didn’t want Trey hanging around, playing havoc with her heart. In general, she didn’t even want a bi man around, someone who would eventually want someone with a cock in his bed.

However, her curiosity wouldn’t let her turn him away so she recapped the polish, turned down the music and sauntered to the door. With her left hand, she opened it. Then, bristling, she struck a defensive pose and glared. “What do you have?”

As usual, he stood tall and proud but the normal devilish twinkle was gone from his eyes. He glanced at the neighbours, who were unabashedly ogling them, and grimaced.
“In private.”

She didn’t trust him any more than he seemed to trust her. Her racing heart couldn’t take much more. “So? You can give me whatever it is right here.”

“Please. I’d like to apologise, too.” From behind his back, he pulled out a bouquet of multi-coloured daisies and a flat, brightly wrapped box and held them out to her. In a hushed voice he said, “I’m sorry if I behaved like an ass. Can we be friends again?”

While she was considering his apology and took the gifts, his gaze dropped to her hands. Then he cocked his brow.
“Pink polish?
Flowery nails?”

Erica tried to quell her rising annoyance. She fluttered her fingers before his eyes. “You like? It’s called ‘passion pink’. And what if I’d been in the shower?”

Too late, she realised her poor choice of words. She seared under Trey’s roving gaze as she opened the door.

Her thighs quivered and she tried to hide behind the daisies as she stole a glance at his groin. When she saw it was swollen, straining against his jeans, her pussy tingled.

She marvelled how the sexual feelings differed from those Eric used to have. Instead of her cock growing hot and her balls tightening, her pussy clenched and her nipples beaded.

The sexual tension was more than she could stand. She wedged the box under her arm then fluttered her hand before Trey’s face. “I like my nails. I didn’t get my fill like other little girls so I have a lot of catching up to do.”

Trey stared at her nails then cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to open your gift? I assure you it’s something you’ll like.”

Erica’s brows tented. The box felt thin and flimsy and was too large for most jewellery. It was too light to be a book or piece of clothing unless maybe it was a scarf. She thrust the bouquet into his arms then ripped the ribbon and shiny silver wrap from the present.

When a few pieces of paper fluttered out, she frowned. Seconds later when she scooped them up from the floor and read them, her heart jumped. There were a few hundred names.

Visions of playing baseball again filled her and her heart leapt. She was so excited she closed the gap between him and hugged him. “Thank you! I didn’t think you’d come through.”

Trey disentangled himself and glowered down at her. “I always come through. By the way, this is a copy. I gave the originals to the board.”

Chastised, she veiled her eyes with a sweep of her lashes. Thinking back over the years, she realised the truth of his words. He had always come through. She’d been the one to royally screw things up.

She held the petitions to her heart, crossed her fingers they would work as she hoped and nodded. “So you do. I owe you now. Is your computer still on the fritz?”

A rueful expression crossed his face as he handed the flowers back to her.
“Big time.
The firm I hired to fix it last week charged me a mint and they screwed it up worse.”

“Bring it over and I’ll have a look at it.”

Trey held up his forefinger and glanced at the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Before she could spit out a reply, he’d sprinted out the door and to his car. Since he hadn’t shut the door behind him, she could see that he delved in his trunk and pulled out his computer. She wasn’t surprised.