Chapter 4

Friday morning, I pulled into Kim’s driveway and resisted the temptation to honk the horn. I was about to get out when the door opened. Her mom took a look and gave me a smile and a thumbs up. In the light of day, the Rabbit’s tarpon blue color was really attractive. Tarpon blue. Who comes up with names like that?

Kim was in before I could hold the door and she didn’t seem to mind. I pushed ‘play’ and Shattered came on. We both joined in and sang along.

Laughter, joy, and loneliness and sex and sex and sex and sex
Look at me, I’m in tatters
I’m a shattered
Shattered

I think Kim was running through her cheerleading routine as we sang. “I sure wish I could sing,” I said. Lack of talent hadn’t stopped me so far.

“I wish you could sing, too,” Kim answered.

“Well, I wish you could sing.”

“I’m in tatters. Don’t you know the crime rate’s going up, up, up?” I killed the engine and with it, the music. “Are you happy, Baby? I like this little car.”

“Yeah. I never would have picked it but I’m glad Mom and Dane did. It will be fine. I need a cassette case.”

“What’s in the shoe box?” she asked and looked through my little collection. “Beauty and the Beat. Really?” Kim asked with a sad tone.

“We got the beat, baby.”

I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Vince clued me in about how important sleep was, so short nights were pretty infrequent. My adrenaline was still helping me zing right along. Mrs. Nichols clarified my Anatomy/physiology requirements and grading. She would have a simple quiz for me on each section and then a paper to write as well. It looked like it was going to be pretty easy to keep up with the schedule.

I thought that with swimming and cheerleading over for the year and baseball just starting, we’d have a pretty quiet lunch. On a Friday, I’d hear a recap of the previous night’s episodes of Magnum, Simon and Simon, and Annie’s favorite, Knott’s Landing. That’s not what happened.

“I was coming home from the store last night,” Lisa said, “And I saw someone who looked just like Kim. It was so weird. She really, really looked like you.”

“What was she doing?” Mel asked.

“She was a passenger in a blue convertible. I knew it wasn’t you though.”

Kim looked at me, I raised my eyebrows and nodded. “It was me,” she said, and that got everyone’s attention.

“Oh? And?” Mel was dying to know.

“Yup. I was offered a ride in a cute little car by a really nice guy and I couldn’t turn it down. The moon was out and it wasn’t too cold so the two of us went to the beach. It was nice. Nice guy. I liked him a lot.”

“Jack?” Mel asked, with her mouth hanging open in amazement. Everyone had stopped eating.

“Yesterday was Jack’s birthday, you boneheads,” Kim said. “He got a new car for his birthday. You guys should see your faces.” Relief washed over everyone, and a couple of girls gave Kim the evil eye for leading them on.

“What we should see is your new car,” Mel said. And with that, a dozen of us trooped out to the parking lot so they could all see my Rabbit. Of course, I had to put the top down. They were being silly but it was kind of fun, too.

When Mel honked the horn, I cringed. Bobby looked at me with a deep sadness. “Dude, that totally cannot remain.”

“What am I supposed to do? You can’t change the horn sound, can you?” I asked. I could change the oil, change a tire, change the windshield wipers, and drive. That was the extent of my car knowledge.

“Yeah. I can do it. I’ll tell you what to get. Or, you can always just honk twice real fast and people will think it’s the roadrunner. Maybe. Dude, that’s really sad.”

I put the top back up and we walked inside to finish lunch. “Everyone likes your car, Baby.”

“That horn, though. Yeow. Bobby said he could change it.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Perfect. Maybe when he changes out my horn for something a bit more robust, he can put that one on your truck,” I said and it was Kim’s turn to cringe.

That afternoon, our pitchers got a chance to throw their best stuff. I was out early and set up the screen we used to protect them from line drives drilled back at them. As the guys came out of the locker room, they each took a couple of laps around the field.

As the last couple of guys were finishing, Coach Hamilton asked me a weird question. “Hey, Pierce, since you’re such a natural at this, have you ever tried switch hitting?”

“Hitting left-handed?”

“Yeah. Some guys can. Some can’t. Most can’t. We have two lefties on the entire team. It would be nice if we had another.”

“Does a left-handed batter have an advantage?” I asked.

“Jury’s out but the conventional wisdom is that a left-handed batter does better against right-handed pitchers. Try it if you want, but don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll try it with slow pitches at Ruger’s and if I’m any good, I’ll speed it up.”

“Sounds like a plan, Pierce. Someone has to be up first. That’s you. Hey, Zenka, you ready to deal?”

He threw some warmup pitches to Thumper and motioned when he was ready. I stepped into the box and hollered, “Don’t hit me, Randy. I have a date tonight.”

“All the more reason.” This was going to be fun.

“Six pitches per batter. Do your best,” Coach hollered.

His first pitch was nothing but heat and I didn’t even swing. The second pitch was just as fast. I connected but it went foul down the first base line. His third pitch was a change up and I nicked it foul, straight back to the backstop. His fourth pitch was heat again. I knew it was going to be and I unloaded on it and sent it deep into right field. I tried to will it over the fence but it wouldn’t go. Legs caught it just in front of the fence.

“Try a little more hip English next time, Aquaman. That might convince it to go,” Thumper said. I guessed I’d been doing more than just willing it over the fence. I wouldn’t do that again. Who likes to look silly?

The fifth pitch was pure heat, low and on the far side of the plate. I got everything into it and sent it over the left-center field fence. That got a couple of whistles. One more pitch. I guessed that Randy would try another changeup. I guessed right and it looked like a beach ball, floating at me. I connected with the sweet spot of the bat and sent it over the center field fence. Two in a row. I liked that. Coach Hamilton looked like he might have liked it and might have hated it. Who knew?

“Are you telling him what’s coming, Thumper? Tipping him off, Zenka? Take center field, Pierce. Nice hitting.”

I ran to grab my glove from the dugout and Coach stopped me. “Nice hitting, Pierce. Not so sure about the glove. New cleats, new bat, ancient glove. What’s up with that?”

I looked at it and smiled. “It was a gift. I like it.”

He looked unconvinced and held his hand out. He turned it over, inspecting it and settled on the signature. “Who gave you this? Can I ask?”

“Doctor Hank Legare. He does consulting work for a lot of teams and he got it for me. Christmas gift.”

“Why would he get you an old glove, and then get Dale Murphy’s signature on it? Seems strange. That is Murphy’s signature, right?”

“Yes, sir. That was Dale Murphy’s glove when he played in the minors for the Kingsport Braves. He told Doctor Legare he’d rather have it put to good use by an up and coming centerfielder rather than gather dust in his locker.”

He looked at me in disbelief. “Pierce, you are something. You’re going to use this as your everyday glove?”

“It worked for him.”

“Son, you are an anomaly, that’s for sure.”

I’m not sure if he meant that as a compliment or not but that’s how I took it. “Thanks, Coach.” He handed it back to me, shaking his head. I jogged toward center field. As I passed Zenka, I said, “I made a lucky guess.” I don’t think he bought it.

He more than made up for my two deep balls with his pitching to the other guys. I wasn’t sure whether I should feel happy for him and bad for the batters or the other way around. When the period was over, I asked Coach Hamilton on the way into the locker room.

“You need both to win, Pierce. Today, you and Zip were the only two that could hit him. Zip hit a couple of bloopers and they would have been good enough to get on base. Here’s how it works. Say we’re playing Wando and Billy Fletcher is pitching. I think he graduated last year, but just imagine he’s pitching.” I had no idea who Billy Fletcher was but it didn’t matter. “You come up to bat and strike out. But you learned something. You saw how he pitches. You saw his moves and the pitches he likes to throw. When you come up to bat in the third inning, you’re facing him for the second time. Do you have a better chance of getting a hit?”

“Better. Yes, sir. Definitely.”

“And the third time through the line-up is even tougher for the pitcher. As the game goes on, the pitcher has to get more and more clever. Meanwhile, he’s thrown forty or fifty pitches and he’s starting to get tired. He’s in a tough place but he’s still better than what they have in the bullpen. Tough place. Now, switch back to us and practice. We have two starters and two guys in the bullpen. Our relief pitchers are works in progress. Zenka knows that. He tries harder. He always gives his best but he knows where we stand.

“Today was the first time through the lineup this season. I’ll let Rusty pitch on Monday. The next time Zenka pitches will be Tuesday or Wednesday. It won’t be just you and Zip that hits off him. By the time the season starts, Zenka won’t have any more secrets. The fact that he gave so many guys a hard time today is good.”

“There’s a weird ebb and flow kind of thing, isn’t there, Coach?”

“I guess you could say that. Randy did fine today. So did you and so did Zip. A couple of weeks from now, Randy will be pitching better than he did today but more guys will get hits. Just the way it works.”

“When we were playing football in PE, we had a scrimmage. It was fun to beat the other guys. We’d razz them and all. But I don’t feel much like razzing Zenka when I get a hit.”

“He’s been playing for a long time. Ten years, at any rate. He doesn’t want anyone to get a hit off him, but he’d rather it be us than the other teams. You know what really pisses him off?” I shook my head. “You hit him and you don’t know what you’re doing. That pisses him off.”

“Gee, thanks, Coach.”

“You know what I mean. You’re green and knocked the cover off the ball. He thinks he’s supposed to be able to throw six pitches that you can’t hit. Does he know who has been coaching you and how much time you’ve been spending at Ruger’s?”

“I haven’t told him, so I don’t know how he would know.”

“Tell him. Take the sting out of it a little. You tell him your brother was a good player and he’s been coaching you. Tell him you spent a lot of time at Ruger’s and that Shoeless Joe Jackson coached you. Then, the next time you face him, show him what all that practice has done for you.”

“Let him know that I might be new at this but I’m not just lucky.”

“Exactly. Did you meet Dale Murphy?”

“No, sir. Doctor Legare was there as a consultant. He knows all kinds of professionals.”

“And they hire him. What does he do?”

“He’s an orthopedic surgeon but he sort of specializes in prevention. He helps them set up their weight rooms, teaches them about physical therapy, and rehab and stuff. I bet he’s worked with at least half the pro and college teams in the southeast.”

“And you know him.”

“He’s over all the time. He’s given me a lot of advice on lifting and diet.”

“Care to share some of that with the team sometime?”

“I doubt I could do it all justice but I could tell everyone what he told Kim and me and what we’re doing some time, if you want.”

“I want. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Pierce? Have a good weekend,” he said as he turned toward his office, shaking his head, and I turned toward my locker, smiling. “And Pierce, don’t overthink it.” I felt cheated. I was really good at overthinking things.

I had to walk past the larger lockers, typically reserved for football players. Helmets, shoulder pads, and all that take up a lot of room. Football season was over and Randy was sitting alone in front of one of the big lockers, slowly pulling his cleats off.

“Hey, Randy. Thinking about football?” I said, stopping at the end of the row.

“Maybe I should,” he said, looking up at me. He was bummed.

I walked toward him and straddled the bench a couple of feet away. “I thought you did great, today.”

“If by great, you mean serving you up a couple of beach balls, then, yeah, I did great.”

“Yeah. Not what I meant. I have to come clean. When I said I got lucky, maybe I did, but I’ve been practicing, too. Ruger’s.”

“Good. You’re supposed to do that kind of stuff. But a sophomore who’s made a couple of trips to Ruger’s still should have a harder time hitting my stuff than you do.”

Coach was right. It wasn’t that someone had gotten hits off him. It was that I had gotten hits off him. “Randy, I haven’t been to Ruger’s a couple of times.”

“I don’t get it. I thought you said you did.”

“No. Listen, my brother, Franklin, played here ten years ago. He was good. He’s been coaching me. I’ve probably been to Ruger’s probably thirty-five or forty times. And one time, Franklin had Shoeless Joe Jackson, the batting coach for the Charleston Royals pro team, come out and work with me for an hour. I tend to learn stuff pretty quickly. It’s my super power. So, maybe I got lucky a little but it sure wasn’t all luck.”

“Damn, Pierce, that’s a heck of an advantage. Your brother actually got a pro batting coach to give you lessons?”

“Yeah. It hasn’t always been that way but for the last two years, he’s sort of been the model big brother.”

“The Charleston Royals. They’re the farm team for the Kansas City Royals, right? I wonder if they have a pitching coach.”

“They must have. I need to get going. Oh, and Randy, next time I get to bat against you, it won’t be just two hits. Fair warning.”

He grinned. “Bring it, Aquaman. Bring it.”

I hurried to grab my stuff and ran out to the car. Kim was standing next to it. I’d kept her waiting. Crap. I unlocked the door and opened it for her. I cranked it up and told her what I had been doing. “I need to make a quick trip to Ace Hardware. It will just take a minute.”

Fifteen minutes later, I came jogging back to the car with some goodies. “What do you have, Aquaman?”

“Flashlight. A real flashlight, a couple of emergency rain Ponchos, one of those little multi-tool things that’s sort of like a Swiss army knife, and two spare keys. Actually, one spare key and one for you,” I said handing it to her.

“Sweet. Thank you. How long have I had my truck and not given you a key?”

“It’s not like I could go anywhere. You want to make one more stop?”

“What about lifting?”

“Mom is teaching. Marie is sick or something so she’s at the dance studio.”

“I don’t feel like lifting, anyway. Let’s go.”

I drove to the little auto parts store and we both went in. I found the horn Bobby told me about. Kim was looking at all the air fresheners, cup holders, and all that. They had a cassette case, which surprised me and I grabbed that. “Does it need an air freshener?” I asked.

“No. Not so far, at any rate. Just looking. Here, get this for me. I don’t have any money with me,” she said handing me a pack of Little Tree air fresheners. “Where to now?”

“Let’s go back to my house and get changed. Then, let’s go to TW Graham’s for dinner.”

“That’s all the way up in McClellanville.”

“Yeah.”

“You just want to drive. We just went to Liotto’s where you had shrimp every way you can have shrimp and now you want to drive to McClellanville so you can have shrimp? You just want to drive. Can I drive back to your house?”

I was happy to let her. She adjusted everything, making especially sure the mirror worked fine. “You look good, Baby,” I said as she watched herself smacking her lips.

“Just checking.” I put the top down at her request and we made the short drive back to my house. For some strange reason, she felt compelled to honk the anemic horn a couple of times.

We had plenty of opportunity to fool around but showered and got dressed without that. Why was that? I went to Mom’s bedroom where Kim was already dressed and toweling her hair.

“The house is empty. Just you and me. It’s plenty early and Mom left a message that she’s going to meet Dane downtown for dinner. Why are we not taking advantage of that?”

We took advantage of it. When I pulled back the covers in one of the guest rooms, we found an old pair of my boxer shorts. “Oops.”

“No kidding. You would have had a fun time explaining that. At least they weren’t mine.”

We had at least an hour and made the most of it. Feeling much refreshed, we decided not to drive ninety minutes to dinner. Instead, we went to the mall. Kim said I needed some new tunes for my new car. I transferred cassettes from the shoebox to the new case, leaving half of it empty and we went to the mall.

The only good thing I can say about food court food, is that it’s pretty fast. Having survived something that was supposed to be Cajun chicken, we went to the record store. I had room for a dozen more cassettes. I grabbed Panorama by The Cars, Ghost in the Machine by The Police, El Loco by ZZ Top, and Breakfast in America by Supertramp. Kim gladly picked another seven that very definitely needed to be in my case. George Strait’s Strait from the Heart was at the top of the stack. I figured I’d get to know the rest of them soon enough.

Neither one of us felt like spending any extra time in the mall. Back at my car, I popped Breakfast in America into the player. Gone Hollywood came on and I was instantly happy with that selection.

“Baby, let’s go back to my house. I’m not feeling so good,” Kim said.

“Me neither. Stomach?”

“Yeah. I feel like I won’t be fun to be around pretty soon.”

I put the car in gear and made the best time I could back to her house. “I’m just going to drop you off and go,” I said as she climbed out.

“You’ve got it, too? It’s from dinner. Ugh. Call me tomorrow,” she said and was gone. It was all I could do to wait until she got inside. The mile and a half back to my house took far too long. I got inside and made a mad dash for the bathroom. And there I was, stuck in the bathroom with no book, no music, and no air freshener. I vowed never eat from a food court again.