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He stops dead in his tracks and asks, “You fucking with me?”
“Not about the sleep.” I laugh.
***
At the bottom of the sixth, we’re up by four and my second wind has come and gone.
“How are you feeling?” Pope sits on my right.
“In here, I want a pillow and a blanket. Out there, moving is a different story. You?”
“I got a few hours; I’m set.”
Vander sits on my left. “You good?”
“Yeah, man.”
“How’s hometown doing?”
I glance at him.
He smirks. “Gotta be honest, never understood the hang-up, but she’s kind of a badass, huh?”
Pope leans forward and looks at V. “She’s loyal to a fault.”
“Been hearing that.” V stands and looks down at me. “Love you, man. We’ve been through some shit together. Gonna give you the truths no matter how hard they may be.” He points at Pope. “No disrespect to Pope, but you loved that girl, and she didn’t give you the loyalty you deserved when she dumped your ass, the respect to have ever given you the answer as to why.”
Pope stands. “No disrespect to Vander, but I’m not sure I’d be taking relationship advice from a man who doesn’t sleep with his wife, just everyone else.”
“You mind your fucking business.” Vander starts to jab a finger in Pope’s chest.
I stand and take it to my own.
“V,” Coach yells, “get your ass out here. You’re on deck!”
Rubbing my hand back and forth over my head, I sigh. “Can’t we all just get along?”
“You might as well lug your ass up here, too, Locke—you’re up next.”
I glance at Pope. “Bro, you?—”
“Gwen’s good people,” he cuts me off, “So is Vander. Ease up, man; he’s got a full plate.”
“He’s also worried about losing a tag-team partner, so he’s shit-talking Gwen. That doesn’t bode well with me.”
“That’s because you need a fucking nap, Captain Cool.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“What it means is you need a fucking nap. And before you get your jock twisted, so do I. But first, you’re on deck, and I’m up after you.”
Vander to second and Steel to third as I walk to the plate, bat in hand. I glance up at the stands, expecting to see empty seats where Whit and Gwen have sat for the past two nights, but tonight, my parents are sitting there.
I point my bat in their direction, and they stand. It takes Dad a minute, but he does it.
Mom just had her thyroid removed due to cancer, and then Dad’s knee had to be replaced. Before all that was the pandemic. They were taking care of each other for two full seasons, watching every game from home except the preseason in Houston.
I practice-swing once, twice, three times, and then four before stepping up to the plate. I tap the plate, point my bat to Houser on the mound, and then up to the stars before bringing it down as I step into my stance.
