Page 28

I wasn’t in the mood for this kind of conversation. I’d come to show Oakland a good time, not plot and scheme about matters that belonged at the table. I glanced toward home plate just in time to see Oakland ushered forward and handed a bat. They were treating him like some grade schooler who had never seen a game in his life. I knew that was a mistake as soon as he dug in and took up his stance. The boy was all business.

“This is more profitable than any of our previous— Yeah!” Mark stopped mid-sentence, his cry of approval competing with the violent clink of a baseball bat catching a piece of something. I logically knew one sound had followed the other, but in my mind, it’d been an explosion of noise. Oakland was hauling ass around the bases. The kid didn’t even look back at second, though he must have heard the ball hit the second-basemen’s glove. I couldn’t say what else might have prompted him to slide into third like his little life depended on it. The boy hauled his stocky frame back to his feet once he realized he’d sent the basemen flying and scrambled toward home. The third baseman took a moment to locate the ball. He might have had a chance if Mark hadn’t cried out like a madman again.

“That’s what I’m talking about. You show them. You show them whose field this is!” Mark swung his fist triumphantly while I stared, bewildered by his antics.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked under my breath.

“What?” He laughed.

“It’s a damn kid’s game.”

“The hell it is. I got ten grand riding on this thing. Why do you think I got so uptight about the twins bowing out? Can you imagine that, betting ten grand and the damn thing gets forfeit as our team’s loss?”

I heard what he was saying, but I just couldn’t process anything that incredibly ignorant.

“You’re lying. Who the hell bets ten thousand dollars on a kiddy game?”

Mark shrugged, his smile growing bigger as he glanced toward some clown in polished shoes and a business suit. The man looked ridiculous in his cushioned lawn chair and overly dramatic umbrella.

“The asshole making the alliance offer. He wanted to bet twenty, but I didn’t have that much faith in my son. He’s liable to lose his temper by the third inning and pummel one of the other brats. You know how shit goes.”

“That kid you brought ain’t half bad. I sure thought he was gonna waddle when he got out of the car–”

“He’s Vick’s little brother.”

“No shit?” Mark suddenly looked at the kid in a new light, a bit of awe crossing his brow. “Keep him close. We could use a few more of those.”

“Right,” was what I said, but the look I flashed at his back when he focused on the game again was anything but.

Keep the kid close.

What the hell was that even supposed to mean?

I wandered off to the concession stand and fetched the boy a Coke. He’d probably be needing something after a few innings.

I did my best to stay clear of Mark, but just as the game was wrapping up and the kids were shaking hands, he magically appeared at my side.

“So, you’ll handle Vick then?”

I glanced toward him, lost as hell once again.

“About what?”

“About voting the correct way,” Mark stressed, as if I were stupid for making him spell it out.

I took a deep breath, only for it to rush out of me when he thumped me in the gut, “I knew I could count on you, brother.”

He was gone before I managed to stop coughing. I saw Oakland chattering away with Eric Aviston and pretended all was well.

“Hey, that was something, huh? Look at how you smashed that thing!”

“Man, he did.” Eric laughed, clapping Oak on the back, “I’ll see ya sometime.”

“Y-yeah, I hope.” Oak sounded half defeated.

“Hell, yeah you will. He’ll be here next weekend for the game against Waterloo, won’t ya, boy?” I gave Oak a side hug that seemed to put a little pep in his step.

“Heck, yeah, I’ll be here, Coach!” he chirped unprompted at Mark when we passed him.