The Pettitte Affair
Andy sat on the bench in the locker room, wrapped in a towel. The moist, humid air made him relax. It had been a tough game, but they had won it. The Mariners got better and better every year. He had pitched eight whole innings, and by the end of the game he was dead tired. Too many fastballs. 'I gotta get Rocket to teach me some more Mr.Splitty hints,' he thought, stretching. Andy could fall asleep right here and now. Why did these games have to start so late? It would be better for everyone if all baseball games were played starting at six o'clock, not eight. Maybe if he just shut his eyes for a few moments...He leaned back against the wall, sighing deeply. He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he felt someone gently shaking him by his shoulders. "Andy, Andy, man, wake up," he heard, the voice above him. He opened his eyes and blearily looked up to see who had woken him up. A few seconds later his vision cleared, and he made out the face of his shortstop."Hey," Andy mumbled, slowly sitting up. "How long have I been asleep?" He rolled his head back and forth; his neck was a little tense. He stood up to go over to his locker and pulled out some clothes."Only about five minutes," Derek told him. "Bernie was gonna wake you up, but we all thought you looked so peaceful, and we left you alone." He walked over and slapped Andy's butt. "Good job out there tonight, bro. If you keep pitching like that, we'll be back in the World Series in no time. Now if only I could hit...""It's just a little slump. You'll get out of it soon enough," Andy told him, pulling on some boxers. Did he ever hate having to wear tightie-whities out on the field. "Why'd you stay behind, DJ?"Jeter laughed a little, and shook his head from side to side. "The girls, man. Those screams are gonna make me deaf by the time I'm thirty. I'm not that hot. I mean, jeez, look at me!" he laughed again.Andy wasn't gonna say what he was thinking. Jeter looked hot enough to him. "I could only wish for that kind of attention. I mean, yeah, I get the occasional obsessive chick, but not nearly as often as you." He pulled on some jeans, then a t-shirt over his still-damp hair."It's all those scary T.V. shots of you. They show you on the mound, staring in at Jorge, peering out from under the brim of your hat. You look possessed. It makes Torre look normal," Derek joked, heading for the exit. "Go home and get some rest, Pettitte. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow.""Yeah, later." Andy looked up to say goodbye, but Derek was already gone. He shook his head. When his friend had said that little comment about hotness, Andy had felt something he never had felt before, something he never expected to feel about the shortstop. Something deep inside...A longing. A need to be with him. It was very odd for Andy to feel this way about another guy. 'But what if he feels the same way?' Andy thought, leaving the room. No way to know for sure. And the last thing Andy wanted to do was scare Derek and queer up their relationship (no pun intended). He would never know what to do or what to say unless he knew for certain Derek had the same type of feelings for him. 'Just fuggedaboudit,' he told himself. Maybe all this was just a result of his exhaustion, maybe he was just imagining it all. He tried to think of other things, such as the upcoming games against the Mariners, as he claimed a seat on the 4 train. But his mind kept wandering back to Derek. Those eyes...Andy took a deep breath, and stared at the ads on the walls of the train car. Laser eye surgery...interesting. If he had eye problems, he might look into that. But he didn't. The subway pulled to a stop and he got up and got off, walked to his apartment, attempting to keep his mind blank. He managed to do this while going through the motions of his nightly routine. Andy collapsed onto his bed at about one in the morning and instantly fell asleep.
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As Derek left the stadium parking lot in his BMW, he cranked up his stereo to distract him. 'Yes, the new DMX song,' he thought gleefully. He turned it up slightly louder. The bass was so awesome in his car. He could literally feel it shaking the marrow of his bones. This was definitely the best way to travel around New York. He pulled to a stop light and saw a man who slightly resembled Andy...not near as hot, though. 'Wait a minute, did I just say Pettitte was hot?' Derek thought nervously, quickly pulling ahead when the light turned green to get away from the man on the sidewalk. The DMX track was over, so he turned on his CD player and started cranking Jay-Z. He couldn't get the image of Andy in his boxers out of his head, though. Those washboard abs, those huge biceps...'Ugh! Stop it, Derek!' he chastised himself. He turned onto the street where his Manhattan apartment was and parked in the nearby parking garage. He turned off his car, locked it, set the alarm, and started his short walk to his apartment building. He also was trying to keep his mind blank, but it was working overtime. He tried to think of all the beautiful women he had been with, all the adoring teenage girls who screamed with delight every time he came to bat, but that dark brooding face of the pitcher kept appearing in the darkness in front of him. He quickly found he had turned on all the lights in his apartment. He needed to call someone he trusted, someone who he could pour his heart out to, someone he could tell anything.He dialed Chuck Knoblauch's cell phone number.Kansas City had played a day game at home today, and Derek knew that Chuck would be at his home, relaxing, even though they had won. He had never been one for much out-on-the-town celebrations. On the third ring, the phone picked up and Jeter heard Knobby's still slighty Texas-accented voice say, "Hello?""Hey, Chuck, it's me, Derek," he answered quietly. "Congrats on today's game. Heard you got a homerun in the sixth inning.""That I did. Thanks, man. Hey, and congrats on your game too. Pettitte's still got it, huh?" At the mention of Andy's name, Derek inhaled deeply. Chuck always seemed to know what was on his mind."That's what I called to talk to you about. Pettitte, I mean." Derek didn't know where he was going with this. How was he going to explain to his old friend...old lover...what he now felt? The uncomfortable silence on the phone was rapidly growing far too long. "I think I...Oh, God, how do I say this?...Andy and I..." His voice was trembling. He was having trouble breathing."Oh, my God. You like Andy don't you?" Chuck said. Derek mumbled an affirmative."I can't keep doing this, Chuck. I can't keep lusting after my teammates. I was lucky you and I felt the same way about each other. Lucky as hell the press never found out. Lucky the other guys were so open-minded. You wouldn't believe how hard some other teams are on gay and bisexual players."
A short pause. "Does Andy know?""No clue."
"Well, then, all I can tell you is wait. Maybe the feeling will pass. Maybe he'll make a move. Just remember, you're Derek Jeter. New York's sweetheart. You can have anyone your little heart desires," Knoblauch laughed. Jeter laughed half-heartedly in reply. "Relax and ride it out. I'll talk to you later, all right?""All right. Night, Chuck. Love ya, man.""Love you, too."
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Andy tossed and turned in his king-size bed. His dreams were filled with images of those eyes. Their bluish-green tint seemed to be burned into his memory, even his subconscious. In this dream, those eyes were right in front of him, staring into his own. The other eyes closed, but Andy's remained open, and he felt the other's lips brush up against his. Andy sat up, stunned, covered in a faint sheen of cold sweat. He glanced over to the clock on the night stand. 4:02. Climbing slowly out of his bed, he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a small can of grapefruit juice from the fridge. His hands were shaking as he pulled the tab on the tiny can. 'Why don't they just make these the size of soda cans?' he wondered, as he drank the cold, tart liquid. He sat down at the island in the middle of kitchen, his long legs folded up so that his feet were resting on the rungs of the stool. Looking up to look out of the window, he thought he saw Derek standing there, smiling. But no. It was all an image conjured in his mind."What is happening to me?" Pettitte wondered aloud. Sure, he had found his teammates rather good looking...The Yankees didn't have any hideous players like the Mets did. He even occasionally found himself admiring their statuesque bodies. But they were all...safe feelings for Andy. This whole Derek situation was new, scary, exciting, and dangerous. But mostly confusing. "I'm probably gonna regret this," Andy whispered into the dark. He picked up his phone and slowly dialed Jeter's number. Instead of hitting the '5' as the last digit, though, his finger missed and hit the '6.' Gasping, he slammed the phone down. He found himself breathing heavily suddenly. Why was this so hard? Andy put his head in his hands.A quiet knocking on his door. He must be imagining things again. He really needed to go back to bed. Yesterday's game must have worn him out more than previously thought. He slowly stood up, stretching. The knocking came again. More insistent this time. Maybe he wasn't imagining this. He shuffled toward the front door, hands stretched out in front of him. He hadn't thought to turn on the hall light, and he didn't want to bump into anything. He unlocked the door quickly, hoping it was him, praying it was someone else. Who, he didn't know. He opened the door slowly, so as to adjust to the bright hall light. There was a tall, masculine silhouette there. It was him. And he looked awful. He looked as if he'd been crying. Andy stood back a little, silently inviting him in. He came in, without actually looking at Andy, walked into the living room, and plopped down on the couch, his face buried in a pillow. Andy followed, taking a seat on the arm rest, hesitated; then starting rubbing his hand up and down his sobbing friend's shuddering back.It seemed an eternity had passed when Derek finally stopped crying. He sat up, his eyes immediately meeting Andy's. Derek's were red and watery, Andy's were trying to break contact, but not succeeding. "Andy, I..." Derek rasped. "I haven't got any sleep tonight. I can't stop thinking about y..." He stopped suddenly, looking down to the floor."Derek, I've got a girlfriend," Andy blurted for no reason. He could practically see his friend's heart break. Andy tried his best to hide his feelings. He wouldn't allow himself to fall in love with Derek.Jeter suddenly stood up, as did Pettitte. Derek was a very tall man, but Andy was just a little taller. Derek threw his arms around Andy, locking his lips with the other man's. At first Andy tried to pull away, but then fell into the kiss. Fell deep. He wrapped his long pitcher's arms around the shortstop, one resting on his hips, the other up around his back, settling on his shoulder. It seemed another eternity had passed when Derek pulled away. "This isn't right," he whispered, unwrapping himself.Andy stared at him, confused. Derek was the one who had come to him, the one who had kissed him, and now he was saying this wasn't right? It had felt right enough to Andy. Right enough that he wanted to kiss him again. "I'll see you tomorrow," Derek said, all but running out the apartment door.
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Jeter dialed Knoblauch's number again. He didn't care that it was 3:30 a.m. in Kansas City. He only knew he had to get this off his chest. Surprisingly, Chuck picked up on the first ring. "Yes, Derek?" he asked groggily."How'd you know it was me?" Derek asked. Damn Knoblauch and his psychic powers."Who else would be calling me this early on my cell phone? Anyway...what it is now?""I went over to Andy's place about twenty minutes ago." Silence. "I kissed him."A deep sigh from Chuck. "Didn't I tell you to wait? You never were a patient one, though. I should've realized that. What happened?""Well, he didn't seem disgusted. As a matter of fact, I think he liked it. But he told me he's got a girlfriend. Then I felt all guilty, and...I ran away." Derek felt more tears welling up in his eyes. "Damn it, Chuck. Why do I do this to myself?" Before his friend could answer, he said, "Whatever. I'll have to deal. I need to get some sleep. We have a day game tomorrow. Night." He hung up, fell onto his bed, closed his eyes, and waited impatiently for sleep to come.
The next day, Derek went 0-5 at bat and made an error on the field. The slightly angered grimaces of his teammates didn't affect him. He couldn't concentrate. The loud, usually oddly comforting cheering of the audience just sounded like a lot of loud annoying screaming. The sunlight hurt his eyes. He felt like an old man. Pettitte hadn't come in today. He asked Torre why, and he had said Pettitte had called him earlier this morning, saying he was going to stay home and rest his arm. Yeah, right. He just didn't want to see Derek. Maybe Derek had been wrong. Maybe Andy had been freaked out. He saw a girl in the audience, a little heavyset,
with shortish brown hair and glasses. The kind that looked like she'd never even kissed a boy. He smiled slightly. He'd fix that soon enough. He had one of the batboy's go and tell her to stay after the game...alone...Mr. Jeter would like to meet her. He'd loved the beautiful, leggy, supermodels he'd gone out with, but every once in a while he wanted a normal girl. At this point in time, he needed a normal girl. In the worst sense. He thought he needed to get his head straight--like maybe his bisexuality was just a passing phase.When the Yankees officially lost the game with a score of 6-1, Derek sat in the dugout, waiting for his friend the batboy to bring down his latest soon-to-be conquest. She was a fairly pretty girl, with hazel eyes and nice lips. Her smile was amazing, too. He was gonna enjoy this. He hoped she would too. "How old are you?" he asked, standing."Um...seventeen," she answered quietly."Close enough. How would you like to see the inside of a Yankee's apartment?"
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Andy knew when the game was over. He had been watching it on television. He had seen that preoccupied look on Jeter's face. He had seen how shitty Derek had played. Andy fell back on the couch, wishing his girlfriend were here now to take his mind off the shortstop. But no. She was at her job in Albany. She loved Andy, and wanted to be with him as much as possible, but at times it seemed she loved her job more. It was a three-and-a-half hour commute from New York to Albany, so instead of traveling that distance every morning and afternoon, she kept an apartment in the state capital and came down to Manhattan on weekends. When Andy had away games, the only way they could see each other was if she wanted to come out to visit him. Which she usually didn't. Always, some project or something had come up at work, and she wanted to keep at it until it was finished. Or some other such bullshit. Andy was getting suspicious. His love life was so messed up right now...
"Time to straighten it out," he said aloud. "Dammit, I have to stop talking to myself!" He walked down to the street, hailed a taxi, and told him the directions to Jeter's place."Hey, ain't you Andy Pettitte?" the cab driver asked, halfway through their journey. "Man, you is my favorite pitcher! Well, right behind Clemens."Andy smiled faintly. "Thanks," he replied. He wasn't in a very talkative mood at this point in time. The driver continued to ramble on about certain games Andy couldn't even remember. He was almost sure the guy was making half the stuff up. He honestly couldn't have been that good of a pitcher. When they got there, Andy agreed to autograph the receipt from the ride, and then gave the driver a ten-dollar tip. The man continued to thank him as Andy climbed out of the car and shut the door behind him. He stared up to the eleventh floor of the dark gray building. He took a deep breath...Then another. 'I'm going to be hyperventilating by the time I get up there,' he thought. Slowly, he walked into the cold air-conditioned lobby and toward the elevators. He had to wait what seemed like forever to get one. Both cars were apparently at the very top of the forty story building. 'The world hates me.' He leaned against the cool black wall, starting to chew on his thumb nail. When he realized what he was doing, he quickly pulled the hand from his mouth. Finally, the bell dinged and the doors opened. He stepped on to find Jeter furiously making out with what appeared to be a teenaged fan. They didn't stop when he got on. They didn't stop when he hit the '11' button. They didn't even stop when he cleared his throat...loudly. Not until he practically shouted, "And Jeter's going for third!" did they stop. Derek looked up suddenly, his eyes flashing with emotion. The girl turned bright red and attempted to pull down her shirt. "Hey.""Hey." Jeter looked around a little nervously, staring at the ceiling, the floor, and doors, the girl, anything but Andy. "Um...this is my friend Vivica. Vivica, Andy Pettitte." The girl looked toward Andy, then tentatively held out her hand. Andy shook it and gave the poor girl a smile. She didn't know what was going on. Lucky. Finally, Derek looked at him. An almost unbearable
silence followed. "So, uh, what're you doing on this side of town?" Derek finally asked, attempting to make small talk. Andy shrugged. This had to be the slowest elevator in all of Manhattan. Derek cleared his throat. "You coming to the game tomorrow?""Yeah, I guess. My arm's feeling better. And it's the last game of the series, so..." More deafening silence. Finally, the tiny bell dinged and the metallic doors slid open with a soft whooshing sound. Derek quickly stepped off, Vivica's hand in his. He was all but dragging her to his apartment. Andy followed. Derek hurriedly unlocked his door, leaving it open for Andy. The pitcher entered a little cautiously. He wasn't sure what to expect. He sure wasn't expecting what he saw.Derek on top of Vivica, on Derek's large, black leather couch. Somehow, Vivica's dark blue jeans had flown across the room...they were on the floor at Andy's feet in a heap. Even from across the room Andy could see the fear in the girl's eyes. Derek's strong arms were holding her's down. "What are trying to do?" Andy whispered, shocked."I'm trying to prove to you that I can be a 'normal' man too," Derek growled, attempting to take off his own pants with only one hand. Andy saw a lone tear travel down Vivica's cheek."God dammit, Derek, don't you realize what you're doing?!" the pitcher screamed. The shortstop looked up at him, a feral gleam in his blue-green eyes. Andy's dark brown eyes pleaded for mercy. Jeter got up off of Vivica, and told her to leave. Sobbing, she ran over, grabbed her jeans, and ran out the door. Andy quietly closed it behind her. When he looked back at Derek he found him sitting on the couch, his head in his hands."What is wrong with me?" he whispered.
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Pettitte stayed at Jeter's apartment all night. He woke up the next morning beside the man in his huge king-size bed. Black silk sheets. Andy looked over at Derek, smiling; we all look so innocent when we're asleep. The lyrics to a Howie Day song started to run through his head--"You’ve got nowhere to run but you’ve got someplace to be; you’ve got nowhere to run but you’ve got someplace to be; dance with me, dance with me." The song wouldn't leave his head. He carefully climbed out of bed, tip-toeing around the apartment, looking for Derek's CD collection. He finally found it in a cabinet in the living room. Surprised, he pulled the Howie Day album out of the cabinet. Apparently, the two men had a similar taste in music. He looked at the rest of the CD's. Busta Rhymes, P. Diddy, Jay-Z...okay, they liked a few of the same people. Andy was more into classic rock and bands like Phantom Planet. Whatever. He put the CD in the stereo and turned the volume down (it had been on 13) and listened to the song that had been in his head, "Sweet." Then he listened to his favorite song, "She Says." He was singing along quietly when he saw a shadow fall over him. Jeter stood behind him, rubbing his eyes. "You ready for some breakfast?" he asked, yawning.Suddenly the phone rang. Yawning again, Derek picked it up. "Hello?" Silence on his end of the line. "Oh, morning Chuck. Yeah, I just woke up." Andy looked over, mouthing the word "Who?" Derek answered with a silent "Knoblauch." Andy nodded. "Yeah, I'm better now. Mm-hmm." Andy got up and headed to the bathroom. He needed a shower. "Guess what?""What?" Chuck asked. He was afraid. Derek told him. "He spent the night?" Chuck had to admit he was more than just a little jealous. "Well...that's great for you. I'm happy for you man.""No, you're not. Quit lying. Though I must tell you," Derek said, taking on a hushed tone, "You're much better than he was.""Really?""Really. Well, I gotta get going. I'm mad hungry and we have a game later--""Oh, yeah, good luck with that. Talk to you later, DJ. Love ya.""Love you, too, CK." He hung up the phone. An idea popped into his head. He needed a shower too.
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