Inside Out by Ashley Ladd Read Free Book Online

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.