Chapter 35: I Would For You

Thursday May 4
For the sectional finals, we finally had to travel. We were facing number-one seed Lemont, which was located in the southwest suburbs of Chicago. The good news was that we were getting out of school early to travel the two-plus hours it would take to get there.

When we all exited the field house, I was reminded again how much I loved our booster club. We found a charter bus waiting for us, rather than the yellow school buses most high school teams traveled in. After putting my bag with my baseball gear underneath, I got on. Looking around to find the perfect seat, I spotted my brother sitting next to Roc. I couldn’t think of a better distraction than being able to torment him for the ride.

“Go sit with Yuri,” I told Roc.

“He had chili last night and smells,” Roc complained.

“You live on a farm,” I reminded him. “You’ve smelled worse.”

“You sure about that?” Phil asked.

“Just move. I need some bonding time with my brother.”

“Really, there’s no need...” Phil started.

Roc thought it was a great idea and made Yuri move so they were across the aisle and could watch me wind my brother up. I could see his best friends felt this would be something to marvel at, like a distant and wild storm that was about to hit. Phil eyed me like I was the cheese in a mousetrap which attracts its prey and then whacks them dead.

“Hey,” I said to break the ice.

“You’re squirrelier than a bag full of squirrels, sometimes,” Phil said.

“Dude,” Yuri said as he shook his head in disappointment. “That was your best one?”

Phil leaned forward so he could see the amused looks on his friends’ faces and flipped them off.

“I’ll make this fast,” I said to get us back on track.

“Make it faster than fast,” Phil grumped like my three-year-old niece would.

“Did you finally man-up and ask ... wait for it,” I said as I held up a finger. I gave my brother a look that said his ex was like dry brush to the flame of my imagination, “ ... Jill to Prom?”

It was precisely the wrong thing to say. I knew it as soon as the words hit the air. Phil’s face turned bright red.

“I’d tell you what I really think of you, you illiterate piece of crap, but I’d have to use words bigger than two syllables, and you wouldn’t understand,” Phil huffed.

Yuri looked at Roc, and they nodded to say that was better than the squirrel shot.

“If you had,” I continued, ignoring his little snit, “I wanted to let you know that I reserved a hotel room for you.”

Phil’s mind must have locked up because he just gaped at me. Big brothers weren’t supposed to surprise little brothers with excellent gifts, like a room to get busy in after Prom.

“Give the key to me. He would just waste it,” Yuri suggested.

That made me laugh. Phil told me I was number one with his middle finger as I left to go sit with Wolf, Tim, and Johan.

Before the game, our bus stopped down the street at Turnabout Pizza so we could eat. I walked in and spotted a group of teenage girls. One in particular caught my eye. She was cute as hell, with pixie-like features that were topped with huge blue eyes and strawberry-blonde hair twisted along her nape. Something about the quirk of her mouth said she wasn’t as innocent as one might think at first glance.

“Oh, crap. I’ve seen that look before,” Tim said.

“I’ll bet you a dollar you can’t act like a jerk and get her number,” Wolf challenged.

“Don’t encourage him. He’s taking Cassidy to Prom tomorrow night, and she would kill us all if we ruined that for her,” Johan reasoned.

Our Mennonite friend cracked us up when he was the voice of reason.

“He’s not planning to take her to the bathroom and have his way with her,” Tim said and then turned to me. “Are you?”

Wolf whacked him in the back of the head for me.

“Thank you. Now let’s see if I can get those digits,” I said confidently.

All four girls’ heads snapped around as I strolled up to their table. With her in a group like this, it would be infinitely harder for me to pull this off than if she were alone. The pixie gave me an appraising look that made me want to turn and run, but I’d been challenged. I knew that hot chicks like her were used to guys falling all over themselves to get close to them. That was why they fell for the bad boys.

“I like your look,” I started with my eyes locked on my target. “A lot of girls are cute, but you’re not concerned about that. You have character.”

“Character?” she asked as her eyebrows went up.

“Yeah. It’s like your clothes; they tell me that you don’t care what anybody thinks.”

The other three girls had mortified looks on their faces, and I heard one of the guys behind me all but swallow their tongue to keep from laughing.

“And your hair. You obviously trimmed it in the mirror. It’s hard to cut when everything is backward. I give you props for saving money by doing it yourself.”

The restaurant was suddenly totally quiet. I gave her a cocky little smile and waited for her to erupt.

“Kayla,” she said, holding out her hand for me to shake.

“David,” I said and then motioned behind me. “My teammates and I are grabbing some food before the game. Would you and your friends like to join us?”

“You play for Lincoln High?” she asked.

I nodded.

“My boyfriend is pitching against you tonight.”

“Perfect!” I said with a smile. “You can give us tips on how to hit him while we eat.”

“He claims his father dropped him on his head as a baby,” Wolf supplied as he was suddenly beside me.

“Where are my manners? This is Wolf, Tim, and Johan—your dates for tonight,” I supplied.

Johan started complaining, and Tim told him to shut up. Johan was a wimp because he was engaged. If need be, I would call Zoe and explain it was all on me.

“But our boyfriends are all meeting us here to eat,” Kayla said.

She added a smile—not the flirty kind of smile that makes a guy a little queasy, and not the polite kind that’s to be expected between strangers. This was an honest-to-goodness smile, like Tami gave me when we first saw each other after being apart for a while. After that, I changed from just goofing around to wanting to get to know her, even though she temporarily had a boyfriend.

“Perfect,” I repeated, not taking ‘no’ for an answer. “They can join us.”

“What do you think, ladies?” Kayla asked her friends.

“Yeah, why not? I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they walk in. They’ve been taking us for granted,” one of them suggested.

That seemed to seal the deal.

While I had been acquiring my guys some dates, Moose had my teammates move tables together so we could all sit together as a team. Wolf and Tim grabbed an extra table to accommodate the girls. I was amused that Moose didn’t even flinch when they joined us.

Kayla and I were seated together at the head of the table. While Moose hadn’t said anything, all my teammates gave me shit by just staring at me as I sat down. I gave them my best haughty royal impersonation.

“Carry on with your conversations,” I proclaimed.

They played along and began to talk to each other again. Kayla gave me a sideways look and then turned to me.

“You’re the David my boyfriend is worried about. The movie-star one.”

This was the last thing I needed. I was hoping for something ordinary—well, as ordinary as my life could be. Not the whole fangirl experience. I just nodded.

“Good,” she said.

“Good?”

“Yeah, good. Maybe Chuck will realize that I could trade up and that he isn’t all there is, as far as boyfriends go.”

“I’m not going to end up getting drilled in the game, am I?” I asked.

“No. Chuck plans to strike you out. He says that once he’s done with you, you’ll look foolish,” she said.

“How does he plan to do that?” I asked.

She suddenly saw through my questioning.

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

“I can get it out of you,” I said and waggled my eyebrows at her.

“You would have to torture me to get me to talk. You’d have to take me somewhere that no one could hear my screams,” Kayla almost purred.

That took an unexpected turn. Being who I was, I recognized and accepted the challenge.

“Oh, I don’t need to torture you,” I said, looking deep into her eyes and giving her a sexy little smirk. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know without me having to lay even a finger on you.”

“You sound pretty confident. How exactly do you think you can get me to talk without even touching me?”

I leaned forward, put my lips close to her neck, and blew my hot breath against her skin. Kayla’s body stiffened, and I felt her hand on my upper thigh. Klaxons began to go off in my head. Mr. Happy suggested that my go-to move of using a bathroom for some private fun would make his day.

“Chuck’s out pitch is a slider,” she said in a rush.

Then I felt her fingers on my thigh turn into claws as she realized I’d gotten her to spill the plot.

Before the situation could get out of hand, four Lemont baseball players walked through the door. I knew one of them had to be Chuck because Kayla jerked her hand off my thigh. The change in the looks on the ballplayers’ faces was priceless. They’d come in acting like they owned the town, and when they spotted their girlfriends sitting at our table, you could just see the thunderclouds of jealousy roll in. The girls’ mission was a success.

The guy who I assumed was Chuck strode up.

“Kayla, I thought we were having dinner together.”

“That’s my fault,” I said, standing up and offering my hand. “David, by the way.”

It was not lost on him that I towered above him, which pleased my Alpha Male.

“Chuck,” he said as he automatically shook my hand.

“We stopped in to grab dinner before the game, and I asked the girls to join us so we could learn more about Lemont. We’d love for you to join us, too,” I offered.

“No. No, that’s alright. We, uh, stopped in to tell our girlfriends that we wanted to go somewhere else to eat tonight,” Chuck said, obviously lying. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Well, okay, then. I’ll see you at the game,” I said to Chuck and then turned to the girls. “Ladies, it was a pleasure. If you decide to dump these guys...”

“No, they’re keepers,” Kayla said as she grabbed Chuck’s arm to guide him out the door before it got any worse.

They quickly left.

“And David wonders why he gets thrown at,” Moose said.

I acted put-out, which made the guys give me a harder time.

My flirting with the girls had loosened the team up for the sectional championship. Big games like this could make you overthink what you’re about to do, and you end up playing tight. We were anything but that as we took the field to warm up.

The game was being shown on cable along with the other three sectional championships. We’d drawn the golden ticket, in that we played tonight as opposed to Friday or Saturday when the other three games would be played. The State Championship Playoffs would begin on Monday, with the final game played Wednesday. By this time next week, we could be headed back to school as state champions.

When our time was up, Lemont took the field. I went to the dugout and grabbed a drink.

“David,” Jeff called to get my attention. “I sent you a video you need to show the team before the game.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Lemont’s starting pitcher said some things that might help you guys get ready.”

Moose loaned us his phone so we could watch it.

Before our previous game, I’d been asked to sit down with Corey Wilier, the color man who was in the booth to broadcast the game. This time, Lemont was home, so they interviewed my new buddy, Chuck.

Corey: “Joining me is Chuck Wilken, tonight’s starting pitcher for one of Illinois’ baseball powerhouses, Lemont. Tonight, they face a team new to this level of baseball, Lincoln High, that has one of the best baseball players in the state’s history in David Dawson. What does it feel like to face a player of his caliber?”

If my chatting up his girlfriend hadn’t been enough, Corey’s question was like waving a red cape in front of a bull; he was calling out Chuck’s manhood, which cried out for a response. It was the kind of trap question that I’d learned to deflect.

Chuck: “One player won’t decide the outcome of this game. Baseball is a team sport, and Lemont has proven year-in and year-out that we produce one of the best TEAMS in the state. If I can keep David Dawson off the basepaths, we will win easily.”

Yep, Jeff was right. This would help my guys get ready.

With that in mind, I watched Lemont warm up. Our teams couldn’t have been more different, size-wise. Each of our starters was at least six feet tall, while it looked like their tallest player topped out at five-ten. What they lacked in physical stature, they made up for with precision and quickness.

You could see it in something as simple as a ground ball. Their infielders would scoop up the ball and throw it to first base in one fluid motion. Whoever their coach was had drilled them well. If this turned into a defensive battle, I worried they would hold their own against us. We needed to use our power to give us the advantage.

As the visitors, we came up to bat first. Chuck was an above-average high school pitcher. I’d clued my teammates in that his out pitch, the one he would throw to strike you out, was the slider. He didn’t need it during the first inning because Wolf hit into a double play to end our half of the inning.

In their half, they came out bunting the ball to get base runners. The first batter laid down a nice one that went to Ty at third to field. Ty charged the ball, picked it up barehanded, and almost got him out. Their next batter, we were more prepared for as he tried to bunt. He got under the ball and popped it up to Justin, who was pitching.

Moose had had me move in to the edge of the grass to help the infield. Lemont had tested our defense with the first two batters. Tim called for a high fastball, the hardest pitch to bunt. Their batter squared up to bunt as Justin began his motion. Then the batter pulled his bat back and took a regular hitter’s stance.

I could see what was going to happen as soon as Justin released the ball and bailed on my shallow-center-field position. As I began to sprint back, I heard the crack of the ball and turned to track it. It was headed for the fence in left-center field. I called for the ball as I raced back.

I cussed under my breath when I saw it would clear the wall. My cleats crunched on the warning track, and I timed my leap into the eight-foot fence. My arm went over, and I made a grab for the ball as I slammed into the wall. I felt my glove grab the ball.

I was a little off-balance from hitting the fence when I tried to gun down the runner returning to first, which caused the ball to sail on me. The runner made it back as the ball flew over Wolf’s head. He didn’t hesitate and took off to second. I pumped my fist when I saw that Tim had backed the play up from his catcher’s position and gathered in my errant throw. He gunned the runner down at second with plenty of room to spare.

The Lemont crowd who’d gotten on their feet to cheer the home run stood in silence as they witnessed me rob the hitter and Tim take down their base runner. By all rights, they should be up 2–0 and trying to expand that lead. Instead, we were coming up to bat.

I led off the top of the second. Coach Haskins pulled me aside.

“Show that ... uh, kid ... that one man can win a baseball game.”

I choked back a laugh because it was so unexpected to see that much emotion from the crusty old veteran. Chuck must have struck a nerve.

“Yes, sir. Do you have a preference as to what I should do?” I asked.

“See that house?” he said, pointing about a block away. “Knock out the kitchen window.”

Frick! That would be a monster shot for even a major leaguer.

“Yes, sir,” I said and went to bat, now that I had my marching orders.

When I got close to the batter’s box, I looked back at the catcher. He was one of the guys who had been with Chuck earlier.

“Hey, do you think Chuck would give me Kayla’s phone number?”

The catcher stood up.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” the umpire growled. “Play ball, and let’s not have any unneeded distractions.”

“I just need to get my signs straight with my pitcher,” the catcher said.

“You do, and I’ll kick you out of the game,” the umpire warned and then turned to me. “You keep talking crap, and I’ll do the same to you.”

On the football field, I’d heard WAY worse than that little shot. The thing was, umpires ruled, and if they weren’t going to allow a little banter, you’d best do as they said and just play ball.

“Sorry, I’ll get it after the game, sir,” I said to the umpire.

Oooh. That was a look I would need to save for special occasions when the little ones got out of line. For some reason, I was getting a lot more looks like that, and I was locking them in memory. It was either I was being a bit of a brat lately, or it was the new car syndrome. That’s what happens when you buy a new car. Suddenly you noticed there are way more of that model on the road than you ever realized. After dealing with my niece last weekend, I knew I had to up my parenting skills; ergo, cataloging the faces made at me that I usually ignored.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when the first pitch was high and outside, by a mile, and was called a strike. I probably wasn’t getting any calls today.

The second pitch was closer, but the umpire did his job and called it a ball. I resisted the urge to point that out to the umpire.

I settled in to bat again and was excited when I saw that Chuck had decided to challenge me. It was a fastball that I could possibly hit. The ball ended up being a little low, so I bent my knees. I made a prodigious rip at the pitch and got under it. It went up and over the backstop and hit one of the lights behind the stands, breaking the protective cover.

The crowd scrambled to keep from being hit by falling glass.

The umpire called time to make sure no fans had been hurt. While he did that, their catcher went out to talk to Chuck. Welp, that wasn’t good because Chuck’s head snapped around so he could stare me down. It seemed their catcher was a tattletale.

“I thought you were going to kick him out,” I said to the umpire.

He looked out at the mound and just shrugged. I guess I deserved it if Chuck put one in my ear.

I felt like a dick when Chuck took the high road on the next pitch. Instead of clocking me, he bore down and threw a rising fastball past me that was called a ball. I stepped out of the box and vowed right there that I was done with childish hijinks for the rest of the season. These games were too important to let my amusement rule the day.

After my mental butt-chewing, I stepped back into the box. Chuck threw the next pitch low and away to try to entice me into swinging at a ball. That one was close, but I held back. I breathed a sigh of relief when the umpire didn’t play the homer and called it as he should have.

The count was now full, and I had to decide if I believed Kayla or not. I hadn’t seen Chuck throw a slider all game, so I didn’t know if he could even throw the pitch. If he could, this would be the perfect spot. A slider is a breaking pitch that tails laterally and down through the batter’s hitting zone. For a left-hander, like Chuck, against a right-handed hitter, it would start outside like the last two pitches but dive in towards the plate to nip the corner for a strike, if thrown correctly.

If Kayla hadn’t warned me, I would have struck out on a slider probably eight out of ten times. The other two would have ended up as foul balls when I accidentally made contact.

Chuck made a big production of calling off his catcher a couple of times. Usually, I would assume he wanted to challenge me with another fastball. He’d been able to get one past me, so that would be the logical choice. His catcher would be worried that I might straighten it out, and Lemont would be down one–nil.

I knew all the drama was intended to fool me. It convinced me that he was going to throw the slider.

Chuck finally settled on a pitch and went into his motion. On the release, it looked like a fastball. I trusted both my gut and Kayla and guessed how much it would break. I would either look completely clueless or be the hero. Taking Coach Haskin’s advice, I put a little something extra on my swing.

The ball dove towards the strike zone, and I crushed it. I began running around the bases and chuckled to myself when I didn’t actually break the window. To accomplish that, I would have to pull out some magic, as Yuri said. It did roll almost all the way to the yard, though, where a little boy tracked it down.

Either Chuck was shaken, or my guys were a little peeved at his before-game comments because we put up three more runs on him in the second. Lemont played small ball and picked up runs in the third and fourth to get within two. I hit another solo shot in the seventh to put us up 5–2, which turned out to be the final score.

“Act like you’ve been there,” I barked out to my teammates when they wanted to celebrate.

“We’ll go crazy when we win state,” Wolf said to back me up.

The reason I’d said it was that the game was being televised, and I was sure whoever we would meet in the first round of state was watching. Teams that went crazy thought they were lucky to have won. Those that took care of business expected to win. I wanted to send a message that we intended to win it all.

Friday May 5
I was reminded that Prom was finally upon us when I came down for breakfast to find my mom, Peggy, and Cassidy all sitting around the table. They were talking about makeup and the like. I noticed my dad was missing in action, along with Dave and Coby.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

“He said something about saving the boys and left,” Mom said dismissively.

“And he didn’t think I needed to be saved?”

“Quit your whining and help us decide which eyeshadow would work best for Cassidy, Model Boy,” Peggy said.

Shoot me! Shoot me now! I took a deep breath and slowly let it out as all three of them looked at me like I should have a clue. The sad part was that I probably did.

“What look are you trying to achieve?” I asked.

“A distinguished, sexy, sophisticated woman of the world out on her big night,” Cassidy said.

I wrinkled my nose, which earned me a glare. Before they lynched me, I decided I better explain the face I’d made.

“I get what you’re going for, but it’s not who you are...”

“David!” Mom barked.

“I’m not trying to be mean. And before you lecture me, let me talk.”

They all glared at me. I knew this was a mistake.

“Makeup is supposed to accentuate who you are and how you look, not make you into someone unrecognizable. Cassidy is the sporty girl next door, not a martini-swilling New York fashion plate. The mistake girls make is trying to look older than they are. The reason older women pile on makeup is to cover up what Mother Nature has done to them. Cassidy looks good with no makeup, so that means she doesn’t need much to achieve what she’s looking for,” I rambled.

“What’s that?” Cassidy asked.

“Like the arm candy befitting me,” I said.

For two beats, they were silent.

“Ignore him,” Mom advised, and they went back to planning.

“Just don’t make her look like a circus clown,” was my parting shot before I was kicked out.

I kept the grin off my face until I got outside. They wouldn’t be coming to me for advice like that again anytime soon.

I was happy when Manaia suggested we swing by the little place that sold burritos as big as your head. I hadn’t realized that they served breakfast as well. We had time, so we ate in.

“Have you eaten breakfast here before?” I asked.

“Yeah. Get the huevos rancheros with tomatillo sauce. It reminds me of what I used to get back in LA.”

I spotted a special on egg-and-chorizo wraps. While I ordered what Manaia suggested, I also ordered several of the wraps to go. I knew some people at school who would appreciate them.

“I need to ask you a favor,” Manaia said when our food came.

“What’s that?” I asked.

I was learning not to automatically say ‘yes’ when someone said something like that. It was part of working on my life goals.

“Fritz is figuring out what our assignments will be once you leave to shoot your movie. The studios have convinced him that they’ll have enough security in place that you won’t need us like you did for your movie in Cuba,” Manaia explained.

“I’d assumed someone would be going with me,” I said.

“Fritz will go with you to observe their setup, and they’ve said that if it isn’t up to his standard, he can either make suggestions, or you’ll get someone on-site,” Manaia explained.

“Oh.”

“What I wanted to talk to you about was when you come back. I don’t really want to move to Oklahoma. I would rather be based in LA, maybe even work at your Malibu house.”

While there were far worse places than Oklahoma, I could see where an LA guy wouldn’t want to spend three to five years there if he had other options. I was going there to play football, not for the nightlife. I was also from a small town, not a city. If the plan had been to move to New York, I might have the same reaction because I wasn’t used to all the people.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“No one wants to move there.”

The implied message was that Fritz would either have to hire someone to be my security or force one of his people to take the assignment. With that in mind, I wondered if I even wanted or needed protection there.

“I’ll talk to my dad and Fritz about it and get you off the hook,” I promised.

I saw the relief on his face. Then it hit me: Manaia was the rookie of the bunch, and the low man on the totem pole got the shit assignments. It was a reality check to discover that I was that. I guess I could understand why: two of my guys had to be reassigned for different reasons while working for me. If I were looking at it without full disclosure as to why they’d been reassigned, I would think it had something to do with the client.

This might actually be a blessing if I could lose them for college. Believe me when I say that having them around as a high school boy wasn’t ideal. When I got to college ... hell, no.

We got my to-go order, and Manaia drove me to school.

I found Roc walking in with his sister Zoe. I handed them each a bag of food.

“Go be popular,” I suggested.

They gave me confused looks until Roc opened one of the wrappers and tried one. When he didn’t die, Zoe felt better and took off with her bag.

“Thanks, Man,” Roc said as he went to share his windfall.

Each class today was geared toward getting us ready for our finals next week.

At lunch, Dare made a pronouncement.

“Chrissy shared an article in a psychology magazine that said that last-minute study sessions don’t actually help scores any, yet we all still do it.”

“So, what Chrissy told you was that we don’t need to study for our finals. We can just kick back and party all weekend?” Wolf asked.

Dare got a confused look and turned to his girlfriend.

“That doesn’t sound right. I would think partying would hurt because it kills brain cells.”

“Of course you shouldn’t party before finals, but you don’t need to obsess over them, either. The article said that you already know the material,” Chrissy said.

I started to say something but caught the sideways look Chrissy gave me. I was about to point out that you could find an article to justify anything if you looked hard enough. Experts loved to make claims. Heck, you could get differing opinions on something as simple as rice. One group claimed that it was good for you and would extend your life expectancy. Another would say it was high in sugar or something else and would kill you.

“I think Chrissy’s right,” I finally said. “You already know the material. I find that if I get plenty of sleep and don’t worry about it, I do just fine.”

I had to give this one to her, even though I thought shagging the little genius was a better approach to distracting him from obsessing about the upcoming tests. She’d come up with an alternative that I could live with.

“I call bullshit,” Tim said. “Not all of us get straight ‘A’s like you do.”

I bit my lip because I thought of about ten comebacks to tweak both Tim and Dare at the same time. This becoming a better man stuff was starting to cramp my style.

“Note that Dare said we study anyway. I’m thinking we just don’t take it to extremes.”

“So, maybe only drink ten beers instead of twenty,” Phil said.

Even Yuri shook his head at my dumbass brother. I just hoped spending the summer with my uncle would straighten him out.