Chapter 6: Amateurism

Saturday January 30

I got up excited about two things. First, Moose told me he had a surprise for me. I was to meet him at the Field House, first thing. Second, Brook had sent me a text and scheduled a ‘play date’. I worried that it was too cold out, but became confused when a subsequent text told me to bring my swimsuit. I was not doing a polar bear swim, even with Brook.

I found Mom alone in the kitchen when I came in.

“Congratulations,” she said, as I stuck my head in the refrigerator to figure out what to eat for breakfast.

“What did I do this time?” I asked.

Mom gave me a scowl.

“You know your latest stunt left Rita traumatized. I thought you were smarter than that. Remember the last parent who caught you with their daughter, and your promise?” she asked.

“Pam,” I said, and sighed.

“Let’s just say you owe me one.”

“Put it on my account. Someday, when I’m picking out your nursing home, I might catch up.”

“I want someplace with a view.”

“Of the parking lot,” I mumbled.

She decided to ignore my smart mouth.

“We got the strip mall under contract. He finally agreed when I told him about your comment to take the Victorian on Main Street. We just have to pay for all the closing costs.”

“How quick do we close?” I asked.

“Thursday, if we get a clean report from the County. The title company needs to check on any outstanding open permits or violations. The title search didn’t discover any title issues or liens. We were able to recertify the survey. Construction will begin next Monday. Caryn hopes that after the roof is done, we’ll get the lower units ready first. I have a tentative tenant in a cell phone provider.”

Dad came downstairs.

“Where are Peggy and Little David?” I asked.

“She took him to her parents’ house and stayed last night. They should be home later today,” Mom said.

Her parents seemed to run hot and cold towards her and her son.

The main door to the Field House was unlocked. I found Moose, and he took me to the far end of the building. I saw they’d set up a couple of batting cages. What made me smile was we had a new pitching machine. Moose handed me a manual.

“I figured since you’d probably use it the most, you should set it up.”

Of course I would. Moose left me to it and went to his office.

They had bought a good quality machine. The brochure talked about how major league teams used it. The manual said it was capable of throwing any type of pitch (fastballs, curves, sliders, drop balls, risers) from either a left- or right-hand delivery, and the maximum speed of its throws exceeds 100 miles per hour. It held twenty balls, and threw them at seven-second intervals.

I went to the equipment room to get balls, bat and helmet. I set it up to throw fastballs as hard as it could. I wanted to see what a 100-mile-an-hour-plus fastball looked like. I checked and everything was set, so I loaded twenty balls into the hopper.

I used the remote to turn it on. I can check one thing off my bucket list: I now knew what it felt like to take a 100-mile-an-hour fastball in your side right under your armpit. My brain recognized the problem as soon as the ball fired from the machine. I have quick reflexes, but holy shit! I actually heard the ball as it shot through the air. I jerked to get out of the way, but it was too late. Dang, that hurt.

I almost caught the next one in the head as I sat up. I shut it off and tried to catch my breath. That would leave a mark. Moose must have heard the sound the ball made when it hit me. Think sledgehammer hitting wet cement.

“Are you all right?” Moose asked.

“I need to make a slight adjustment. I probably should have tested it before I got into the batter’s box.”

“Good tip. Let me see.”

I lifted up my shirt, and my side was red. I was going to have a nice bruise. Moose took me to the training room, filled a bag with ice, and then used an ace bandage to hold it in place. He left me to contemplate what I’d done when Jim came in.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

“I stepped in front of the new pitching machine,” I admitted. “Here’s the remote to start it up, if you want to try it.”

He took it, and I told him my bat and helmet were out there. I hopped off the table to go watch. Jim was smarter than me. He stood back and turned it on to get a feel for the speed, and I watched in disappointment as the ball missed him.

“Dick!” he called out, as he shook his head.

Moose surprised me.

“You really are, sometimes,” he mumbled right behind me.

“He would’ve done the same.”

Moose just went back to his office.

I picked Brook up and pestered her for the whole ride to the YMCA. We went in and there was a big sign that announced a SCUBA class. The class offered you a PADI certification for open water diving.

There was a small classroom with a whiteboard and a table on the side with all the different equipment. The instructor looked to be college age. He was a smaller guy, and I smiled when he saw me and puffed up. Brook gave me a sidelong look and smirked. There were three other students, all men in their twenties.

“I see everyone’s here, so let’s get started. I’m Steve, and my dad owns Fleishman Sporting Goods. I went to the University of Miami and took a SCUBA class as an elective. I know you’d think there aren’t many places to dive around here, but you’d be amazed. Once you get in the water and experience it, you’ll never want to stop. It’s a whole other world, and a fun activity to do with friends.

“For this class, you will have two days of classroom instruction followed by time in the pool. To complete the class and get your certification, you’ll need to do an open-water dive,” Steve said.

“Isn’t it a little cold?” one of the other students asked.

“With a full wetsuit, you should be fine. I find I only really get cold around my face area,” Steve explained.

The first part was a classroom course where we were shown all the equipment and how it all worked. We also learned about dive safety and issues surrounding deeper dives. You could get decompression sickness where air bubbles would form in your bloodstream if you came to the surface too quickly, but that was only for much deeper dives. We wouldn’t have to worry about that. They gave us a chart for the depth and it showed us how long we had to wait at certain levels as we came back up to the surface. The stops gave the gasses in your blood a chance to reabsorb.

Then it was off to the pool. Brook Davis shouldn’t be allowed to wear that swimsuit around anyone but me. It was a one-piece that covered all the important parts, but it was cut so that her hips and side butt were on full display. I was glad I had on board shorts or it would’ve been obvious what effect she had on me. I looked around and every guy in the class had their eyes locked on her.

I smirked when she saw how everyone was looking at her. She got a determined look, walked up to me, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. You could see the disappointment from her new fan club.

We each had to put on a tank, inflatable vest (which Steve called a Buoyancy Compensator Device, or BCD), fins, mask, and weight belt. We learned different ways of getting into the water without killing ourselves. You didn’t just dive in or your mask would smash your face. We were shown how to roll in backwards and how to jump in and use a scissor kick to stop our descent.

They taught us how the weight belt and the BCD were used to help you stay comfortably at certain levels under water. We spent a lot of time learning how to clear our masks of water. The last part of today’s class we practiced buddy breathing. That way, if someone ran out of air, their partner could share their air until they both reached the surface.

The next class was Sunday. I met Brook out front when we were done.

“What made you want to do this?” I asked.

“I thought we could go somewhere tropical for spring break and go diving,” she said.

“Maybe I can talk Devin into doing a photo shoot in some tropical paradise or something,” I said.

“Or you and I could just go away for a week and get a tan, go diving, and do other relaxing activities for a week.”

She had a point. Devin would make me work, and I wouldn’t have near enough time for the other relaxing activities.

“Want to come to my house?” Brook asked.

“I’m driving you there right now.”

She gave me a flirty look, and I felt like a ‘stupid boy.’

“Yes. I would love to go to your house,” I said.

“I hear you have a new game.”

I glanced over and she actually batted her eyes at me.

“Someone has a big mouth.”

“Puleeease. Surely you don’t think we don’t talk to each other and compare notes.”

I knew they did, but I played along.

“What? I thought our time together was a sacred thing that was only shared between the two of us.”

She cocked her head, not sure if I was serious or not. Then I must have given it away because she punched me in the arm. She pointed to the side road that would take us back to the cabins. When we got inside, she went to the fireplace and started a fire.

“So, what do the other girls say about me?” I asked.

“I’m not telling you. It’s just girl talk. I see how your eyes glaze over when we get started. You’re just hoping we don’t say mean things about you,” Brook teased.

She had me there. While I thought about Halle talking to Brook about our little game, Brook went and got a big fluffy comforter and sheet. She laid the comforter in front of the fireplace, and then I helped her spread the sheet over it.

“You lose some clothes and I’ll be right back,” Brook said.

I took off all my clothes but my boxers. I lay down in front of the fire and just watched the flames. The heat felt good. I heard Brook clear her throat to get my attention. Someone wanted to make a grand entrance, so I rolled over to face the bedroom door. I was glad I did. She had on one of my blue-and-white striped Oxford long-sleeve dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up. It was unbuttoned to her stomach, so that when she moved the shirt would expose her lack of a bra.

“I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed this,” she said, as she struck a sexy pose.

I patted the spot next to me to get her to join me in front of the fire. She lay down and faced me on her side. She got an intense look on her face as she leaned in and our lips met in a first tentative kiss. She tasted of cherry lip gloss. I tilted my head to the side and deepened our kiss.

I found that different girls brought out different things in me. Halle I wanted to please. She was the girly-girl of the bunch, and she was my little princess. Zoe was the rough-and-tumble farm girl who was just learning about her sexuality. Pam and I had a special connection. I had to be careful with her, because she had a submissive streak. With her, I wanted to protect her. Brook Davis was a completely different kettle of fish. Brook brought out the sexual animal in me. With her, I didn’t try to be anyone but myself. I didn’t have to play a role.

I rolled her onto her back and began to kiss down her neck. She let out a little whimper as she grabbed the back of my head. I rolled on top of her and her legs wrapped around the backs of my thighs. I slowly rubbed my hardening cock against her sex. I pushed my head under her open shirt and found a breast to worship. Brook was all woman.

“David,” she moaned her need.

I loved how her voice would get all gravelly when she was aroused. My hands were busy caressing her upper leg and just the edge of her perfect butt. Brook took that moment to take control. She put her hands on my shoulders and pushed, so I rolled back until I was on my knees. Brook sat up and looked at my chest and stomach. She ran her hands all over them as she used the Braille method to memorize every inch of me.

I sucked in my breath when one of her hands slipped under the waistband of my boxers. She pushed them down and let the waistband hook under my balls. She twisted around so that she was lying facing me. She looked up at me and gave me a sexy smirk as she leaned forward and took my cock into her mouth. I let my head fall back and felt my eyes roll back in utter pleasure. Then she giggled and stopped.

“Do you want to try something different?” she asked.

“I can’t imagine it would be better than what you were doing.”

“Trust me. I think you’ll like it.”

I gave her a little nod, and she scurried to the bedroom. She came back with a wand vibrator with a large round head.

“Lie back,” she ordered.

She clicked it on and I jumped when she placed it against the shaft of my cock. It felt weird at first, but she had a bottle of lube; she coated my cock with it and went to town with the vibrator. I about came out of my skin when she ran it around the crown of my cock and hit the sensitive spot underneath. When she began to suck on my nutsack as she used the vibrator, I was in heaven.

Then Brook changed my life. I knew it felt good to have a girl use her fingernails to scratch me under my balls. When she placed the vibrator on my taint, as she sucked my cock, I completely understood why Duke would stiffen up and his leg would jerk as if he was trying to scratch himself. Both my legs pulled back to give her better access as the vibrator shot unbelievable sensations deep into my core. It was as if she’d found an itch you never knew you had, and you feel intense relief when it’s finally scratched.

I let out a primal grunt that only comes from deep sexual satisfaction. It was almost too much pleasure, as I began to squirm under Brook’s ministrations. She had me completely at her mercy. If she’d asked me to marry her at that moment, it would’ve been a done deal. It was almost as if I’d never had true pleasure before.

I felt my balls tighten, and I held off as long as I could. I made a strangled sound to warn Brook, but she doubled her efforts of jacking me off and head-bobbing. I didn’t feel sorry for her when I began to pump a quart of cum into her mouth.

“Gaaahk!” I shouted.

Brook pulled back the vibrator, and my legs relaxed. In my sexual haze, I watched as she pulled herself off the head of my dick and then drooled cum all over the crown, letting it run down my shaft to my stomach and balls.

“For fuck sake! What did you just do to me?” I asked.

“You liked that?” she said with a huge grin.

“Hell, yes.”

“I read about it. Now who’s your favorite girlfriend?” she asked.

“You are,” I admitted.

She crawled up my body and kissed me. Normally it would’ve grossed me out to taste my cum, but right now in this moment I didn’t care. My cock was still hard and twitching. Brook took advantage of that and mounted me.

“Condom,” I warned.

“I want to feel you cum deep inside of me.”

I looked at Brook, and after what she’d just done for me, I was willing to risk it. I let her use me until she came the first time, and then I asserted myself. I loved how I could manhandle her and she could take a pounding.

During one of our breaks, I sent my mom a text to let her know I wasn’t coming home and where I was. Brook nuked a frozen pizza, and we had that and a bagged salad for our dinner.

After dinner, we curled up next to the fireplace and just talked about anything and everything. In many ways, we were alike. She was smart, funny and driven. I would bet that most people at school only saw the sexy Brook. If they did that, they were way underestimating her.

She got out the vibrator again, and I promised to be her sex slave. She couldn’t quit giggling when she figured out the power she now held over me.

Sunday January 31

I woke up with Brook Davis draped all over me. It reminded me of when Kendal had slept in my bed. Most girls want to snuggle up to you and spoon. Brook must’ve wanted to make sure I didn’t slip out of bed without her.

We picked up my parents and went to Granny’s for breakfast. Then it was off to church. Dad wasn’t happy he’d been tricked into a trip to church. The congregation took notice that I’d brought a girl to the service. They all seemed to want to ask me about it, but my mom was there, and they knew how she could get. They’d learned their lesson when they tried to talk football with me. She was good to have around—at certain times.

I had to call Zoe and explain about my SCUBA class. She made me give Brook the phone. I guess she wasn’t happy that Brook was poaching her Sunday afternoon with me. When we were done with class, I took Brook home. Her parents were there, back from their weekend trip to Chicago. As I drove home, I was thinking I would have put this weekend in the top five of all time. I suddenly felt a lot closer to Brook.

Monday February 1

At lunch, I found myself at the Guidance Counselor’s office with Jan, Stacy, Brit, Alan and Wolf to talk about the class project. Ms. Jaroslav had gotten an assorted sub tray. I avoided the turkey, because I didn’t want to risk falling asleep in my afternoon classes. When everyone had something to eat, I started the meeting. I think Ms. Jaroslav was a little irritated that I’d taken over.

“So, what ideas do we have?” I asked.

“Brit and I went and talked to the Director of the Homeless Coalition,” Wolf said. “Did you know that at any given time, between three and five percent of students at Lincoln High are homeless? About 87% stay with friends, the rest are in shelters or on the street. He said there were many things we could do, from donations of both money and items to getting involved.”

“I think the direct involvement should be an individual decision,” Brit said. “We need to think of ways to get everyone involved. I thought it might be cool to have everyone bring in things. The guy at the Homeless Coalition said they would pick everything up.”

“I think that’s a great idea. Good job,” I said, then turned to the other three. “What do you have?”

“I had an idea that I asked Alan to help me with,” Stacy said.

It was good to see that even though they weren’t going out anymore, they could get along.

“We went in a different direction,” Alan shared. “There are kids that feel like they’re outsiders. I remember in middle school when you, Tami and Jeff all had the flu. At lunch, I didn’t have anyone to eat with. I look around the lunchroom, and there are kids that either eat alone or skip lunch.”

“Alan said he could make an app where people could find a table where they’d be welcome,” Stacy said. “We thought we would call it ‘Lunch Buddy.’” She pulled out a diagram she’d made of the lunchroom. “When you go to lunch, you could log in and it would show you tables where others would host. You just click on the table and it reserves you a seat.”

“We would want you to host a table a couple of days a week to get it started,” Alan told me.

“Remember, not everyone has a phone,” Ms. Jaroslav said.

We all looked at her like she was crazy. A teen without a phone? She was probably right.

“She has a point. We need a way for the two kids that don’t have a phone to join in,” I said. “What do you have, Jan?”

“I thought we could get more outside seating for lunchtime, for when it gets warm.”

“If you got me the materials, I could get some people together and make picnic tables,” Wolf said.

“We would need the school’s approval to do that,” Ms. Jaroslav added.

“What did you come up with?” Alan asked.

“I planned to help you with whatever you all decided. I personally think we should do all three, so we don’t need to poll the juniors. The app and tables would only involve a few people to get done, but would leave a lasting legacy. The homeless project is something the junior class could all do, and we could involve the whole school.

“Jan, Wolf and Ms. Jaroslav should work on the tables. Ms. Jaroslav, you need to get approval for us. Alan and Stacy can work on the app. I’ll work with Brit on the homeless project. Let’s all meet next week with to catch everyone up with our progress and any help we might need.”

Brit and I talked as we went to our lockers.

“I’ll meet with the homeless guy and get a list of things they need. We can post it so everyone knows what to bring,” Brit said.

“I think we can make this bigger than just Lincoln High. I bet we can get some free publicity and get the community involved,” I said.

“You work on that,” Brit said.

The bell rang, so we didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation.

Before I had to go to Cassidy’s workout, I had some free time since we hadn’t started baseball practice yet. I normally used it to do my homework or meet with a study group for a class. Today I went to use the new batting cages. I was smart this time and let the machine fire off a pitch before I got near the batter’s box. I wouldn’t put it past Jim or some of the other guys to make a small adjustment to try and kill me.

I checked the settings, and it was set to throw ninety-mile-per-hour fastballs. That was the upper limit you would normally see in high school, unless you ran into someone exceptional. I picked up right where I’d left off in LA. I went through my five steps and just took nice easy swings at first to get the timing down.

Twenty balls at seven-second intervals didn’t take very long. I spent more time picking up balls and reloading the machine than I did batting. I needed a better system. The easy solution would be to get more balls. I could get a few five-gallon buckets and just pour them in when it ran out.

My side was still a little tender, but I could really tell a difference in my hitting. The coaching would pay dividends come baseball season.

I was startled when Moose suddenly was in my peripheral vision. He silently watched as I crushed twenty sweet fastballs over the center of the plate. We both knew I was taking it easy to get into the rhythm of hitting.

I ignored my audience and focused on what I’d learned in LA. Rhythm was the first step. I needed to be relaxed in the batter’s box and do a routine to get ready to hit. I would do a little circular motion with my bat to prepare to hit. The second step was seeing the pitch. I had my front foot down and watched for the ball coming out of the machine. Third was separation. This required the hands and front foot to go in opposite directions at the same time. You wanted to end in a balanced and athletic position. Your weight distribution should be 50/50 in your lower half after separation and as you transferred your strength into the ball. The fourth was to stay square. You lost power when you deviated from a straight-on approach. The final step was weight shift and transfer.

When done right, the power in my hitting went up significantly. Baseball is a lot about sounds. You can hear a good pitch. It starts with the whizzing sound as the ball slices through the air, and then there’s the pop as it hits the catcher’s mitt. Hitting a baseball is the same thing. It just sounds different when you get all of it with speed and power. The satisfying ‘crack’ as you send a line drive four hundred feet over the center field fence sounds different from the ‘dink’ of a slow roller.

Moose was smarter than I was. He had a bucket of balls, so when they ran out, he stepped into the cage and dumped more in. He also made some adjustments to the machine and stepped out. It was now throwing curve balls.

Moose just nodded as I got all of the first one. My confidence that what had happened in LA wasn’t a fluke went up. When my time was up, I started to pick up baseballs.

“Leave them. I’ll get them later. I want to talk to you for a minute before you work out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I got a call from USA Baseball. Coach Camarillo recommended you, as did Lucas Kite and Coach Boyd of the Dodgers. USA Baseball wanted to confirm a few things with me, but it sounds like you’ll get an invitation in a couple of weeks. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll do whatever I can to help you. It’s a big deal that you’re going to be invited.”

“Thanks, Coach. That means a lot to me,” I said.

I looked at my watch, and it was time I went to let Cassidy abuse me. It felt good to have Moose support me.

Wednesday February 3

We’d dropped to fourth place in the box-office races. An animated movie, Kung Fu Panda 3, did $41 million. The Revenant took second with $12 million, Star Wars: The Force Awakens did $11 million, and we did a little over $10 million. Overseas the numbers showed us doing really well. We were number two in Japan and most of Europe.

Ari was over the moon with the results. They’d upped the estimated box office to $500 million when all was said and done. He said he was getting calls about my availability and wanted me to go full time. I handed the phone to my mom, which ended that conversation.

We’d also started to get strangers hanging out in front of the house. Some were fans and wanted to get a picture taken with me, or an autograph. Then there were the ones that wanted something from me. There were a couple of fun ones. One guy wanted me to show up at his wedding as his best man. He said his fiancée was a big fan. The one that I did do was a girl who asked me to do her voice mail message as Stryker. That one turned out to be fun.

Then there were the awkward ones that wanted money for various things. Those we called the police on, and let Billy figure out if they were legit or not. If they were, they had to fill out a request and send it to Caryn. When the people wanting money figured out that they would have to talk to the police, it seemed to clear most of them out.

As I walked into school, Tracy approached me with a smile and handed me a good-sized, beautifully wrapped package.

“Megan asked me to give this to you. It’s Jim’s surprise.”

All I could do was grin an evil grin. Jim was so busted, but he was going to love this!

Brit talked me into leaving campus at lunch to visit the local Homeless Coalition. Their director was a Mr. Orange, and he looked and acted exactly like I would have cast the role for that position: he was in his early thirties, looked overworked, but still eager to help the needy. If he had to work in the real world, they would eat him alive. The good news was he’d found his calling.

“Mr. Orange wanted a chance to meet you,” Brit explained for the fifth time.

I just nodded.

“I take it you’re David A. Dawson,” he said, using my movie name.

“Just call me David. What can we help you with?” I asked, wanting to get this over with.

“I wanted a chance to share with you some of the things we’re working on with the hope it would help you understand the homeless crisis that we’re experiencing in the area,” he explained.

I caught myself being cautious, and decided to give the guy a break and hear him out.

“That’s probably a good idea,” I said.

“We classify homelessness into three categories: transitionally, episodically and chronically homeless.

“The transitional homeless used to have a job, car, house, and still have debt. The head provider lost their job, or suffered some other misfortune, and they’re suddenly living out of their car or in a tent. Many are women with children, unfortunately.

“Episodically homeless refers to individuals, often with disabling conditions, who are currently homeless and have experienced three or more episodes of homelessness in the past year.

“The final category is the chronically homeless, which refers to individuals who are currently homeless and have been homeless for six months or more in the past year. Three groups fit into this category. The first we call the adventurers. They’re young and looking for life experiences. Usually they’re homeless from 6 weeks to 2 years. They’ll hop trains, hitchhike, and do nearly anything except take a shower. They tend to bring dogs with them and smoke pot. They’ve chosen this condition, and we don’t try to force them to accept help. We get them sometimes when they’re hungry or need to get out of the elements.

“The next group is our biggest concern. They often suffer from some form of mental illness and are in need of structure and perhaps mental evaluation. There are a large percentage of military veterans in this group. Giving them a place to sleep, a warm meal and shelter from the elements isn’t enough. We collaborate with many different organizations that specialize in their support. With most of these, it’s a long-term project to get them back to the point that they’re useful members of society. In most cases we fail, because they stop taking their meds or decide they don’t want to move on from their current condition.

“The final group is criminals on the run. We tend to call the police if we find any of these,” Mr. Orange said with a smile.