CHAPTER 4 | Dallas
S houting in the locker room echoes down the hall to the exit door. The hinges squeal behind me as Logan and I make our way toward the rest of the team. Our last game of the season starts in less than two hours. To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I’ve been hoping to stand out to the scouts each game. Winning this game guarantees us a spot in the tournament, which tends to be an integral step in continuing your baseball career. Don’t get me wrong. I would be thrilled if I became a pediatric physical therapist after college but getting to play ball as a profession is an absolute dream.
My freshman year of college, I was dead set on majoring in math. I was my favorite subject in school growing up. I was thinking about being a high school math teacher. And then I took an anatomy class in my sophomore year of college, and I fell even more in love with the science behind the human body, the way things moved and why. That’s how I ended up changing my major to physical therapy. I think it’s also fitting with the whole baseball thing I have going on, too. I love the physicality of the sport and in general, baseball is just something I grew up enjoying due to my dad’s obsession with it. But getting drafted into the MLB is such a one in a million shot that I’m still not certain anything will come of it.
And now I’m still torn, still not sure which one to choose. But I don’t want to make that choice before I get offered a spot on a team, if I get offered a spot.
When I get to the end of the locker room hall, I see Dante standing on a bench. “Losing is not an option tonight! We play strong! We play tough! We crush those Jaguars!” Everyone cheers and pounds on the lockers. Dante sees me walk through the door. “Now, without further ado, your team captain!” He points and offers the spot on the bench to me.
I laugh but take my makeshift throne. “No pressure or anything, but uh ...” I pause. “I think this game is a big deal.” I shrug nonchalantly. Everyone cheers again. “Let’s kick some Jaguar ass!” I pump a fist in the air, and my teammates follow suit, whipping their towels in circles.
Once everyone is on the field, we begin practice: hitting balls, running bases, catching pop flies. I take a moment to check the bleachers to see if Aubrey decided to show up. To my surprise and immense relief, she isn’t in the crowd in her usual spot. I look around to see where my dad is sitting. He’s been coming to every game since I was in tee ball. He usually sits right next to the dugout, but I don’t see his familiar brown suit. That’s odd. He has missed a few games and practices in the last month. I’ve assumed he’s been busy with work, but I didn’t expect him to miss this one. I push the thought from my head, refocusing on the task at hand. The school song plays as each player takes their position. Connor steps up to the plate, bat hovering over his right shoulder. The first pitch is thrown, and he makes a solid connection sending it far into left field, almost a home run.
The innings pass quickly without any score. When the away team hits a home run with one on base, the sixth inning pushes the Jaguars into the lead.
Coach Charlie shouts from the sidelines at the team, telling everyone to move their feet quicker and get that glove positioned faster. In the seventh inning, we manage to fill the bases, taking the lead with a 3-2 score, a winning score if we can hold them here. The final inning approaches and Coach Charlie calls us to the pitching mound before starting.
“All right, guys. This is it. This is our chance to keep the lead and take this spot in the tournament. I know you can do it. So, whatever it is you have going on in your head that isn’t this game, put it aside. This is what matters right now. Okay? You’ve got this.”
Coach puts his gloveless hand in the middle of our huddle. Everyone releases with a “Go team!”
With two men on base and two outs, the away team sets up at home plate, preparing to take the win. The batter takes an extra practice swing before readying himself. I give a few hand signals to Dante, but he turns them all down. Finally, I flash him the signal for the curveball from our last scrimmage. He gives me a knowing smile and nods.
The entire field and everyone on the bleachers go silent, waiting in anticipation for the next, and hopefully, final play.
As I dig my feet firmly into the red aggregate, I brace my glove in the middle of the strike zone, preparing for Dante’s nasty curveball. He winds up, takes a deep breath, and releases. I brace for impact and when the ball hits the sweet spot in my glove, the crowd goes wild. I stand up with my glove in the air and run to the pitcher’s mound to join my team in the excitement.
We made it. This dream of mine is slowly coming to fruition. I never imagined I’d get to keep playing baseball after college, but it might actually be happening. Last year we also made it to the NCAA, but we only made it two games into the tournament before we lost our placement. This year, we have a better lineup of players.
I ride the high of the win all the way to work. When my sister’s name pops up on my phone just before I pull into the parking lot, I answer quickly, excited to share the news with her.
“Hey, Dal,” Rose greets, but not with her usual pep.
“Hey, guess what?” I start, hoping she joins in on my excitement.
“What? Wait, did you win?” she squeaks on the other end. “You had your final game today, right?”
“We won!” I almost shout. I pull into my usual parking spot at the back of the lot. It’s already packed. I’m shocked I’ve managed to get a spot, but most people don’t like parking behind the building. College students flock to the door where Craig stands prepared to keep the underage kids from getting in.
“So, you got a spot in the tournament, right?”
“Yeah! Hopefully, we make it further than we did last year.”
“That’s awesome, Dal.” She pauses.
I can tell she has something else on her mind but doesn’t know how to broach the subject. “What going on? I know you didn’t call for this.”
She sighs on the other end. “I just don’t know what to do about Mom and Dad. They just don’t seem to be getting better. I thought this would blow over, but they are still fighting constantly. I realize it’s probably not my place to try to do anything about the issue, but I can’t help but wonder what’s really going on. It’s so frustrating living in this house. Plus, Dad keeps leaving for longer and longer periods of time. He claims he’s been staying in a hotel and working a lot.”
“I hear you. I talked to Mom yesterday, but Dad hasn’t talked to me since Tuesday. He usually asks about my games, and I figured he would have been at today’s game, but he didn’t, and he wasn’t. I was a little surprised.”
“Weird. He goes to all of your games,” she comments.
“I know. I don’t know. Maybe he’s just stressed.” I pause. “Any idea what might be wrong?” I ask, hoping she has some insight.
“Nothing. I wish I had an answer for you. I hope this isn’t about Cole. Ever since he died, they’ve been so distant from each other.”
I really hope this isn’t about Cole. My younger brother, Rose’s twin brother, died in a drunk driving accident a year ago. That was the same day I found out my girlfriend had cheated on me with him. It was a rough day, to say the least. Rose seemed to have the hardest time with it. Those two never left each other’s sides. Except for that night. Rose decided to go home early, but Cole didn’t want to leave yet.
I was really worried about Rose for a long time. I still am. We’ve gotten much closer since then. I guess I’ve been the replacement, but I don’t mind.
“I should have been there,” I concede. I was at that same party they went to, but when I caught Cole with my ex in a spare bedroom, I baled.
“Dallas, I can’t tell you this enough. What happened isn’t your fault. It’s not your job to watch over us. We, I,” she corrects with a sigh, “am barely a year younger than you.”
I push the thought away. “Do you think they’re going to get a divorce?” I ask. It’s been a question on my mind for a while, but I’ve been too afraid to admit it. “I hope not. I hope they can figure this out and move on.”
“Let’s hope,” she grumbles.
I take a deep breath before checking the time on my watch. “I’ve got to head to work. I’ll talk to you later?” I ask. Rose is one of the only people who keeps me sane, other than Logan.
“Talk to you later. I’ll let you know if I learn anything more.”
As I head into Landry’s, I take my normal position at the far end. The drinks flow. Code Names plays. The bar is full. Time moves quickly with how busy it is, giving me a reason to tune out the drama in my life. The rock music helps. I do, however, notice two girls who approach the bar a few times. Two brunettes. I recognize the black-haired girl from the cafeteria last week. I don’t eat in the school cafeterias very often, which is probably why I haven’t noticed her before now.
As they collect the drinks Aubrey made for them, they both take a long swig before turning back toward the band, doing their best to shove their way to the front.
When I finally clock out for the day, satisfied with my tips, Aubrey asks, “Can I get a ride?” as she finishes counting the till. The neon beer signs glow, illuminating the low cut of her uniform.
“Sure.” I lean my back against the bar, listening to the muffled radio playing from in the kitchen.
“You okay? You seemed a little off tonight.” She doesn’t look up from the money.
“I’m good. Just family drama. Nothing new.”
“All right. Are you staying tonight?” she asks, clearly hoping for a yes.
“Probably. We’ll see what time it is when we finally leave. I have to work earlier than usual tomorrow, no thanks to you.” I hope that comes off as a joke.
“Sorry. Chase asked for the weekend off and I didn’t have anyone else to schedule. I knew you didn’t have anything going on, so I just assumed you’d like to start early and get off early.”
“Oh, it’s all good. I don’t mind at all.”
As we continue to close the bar, Bill does a final walk-through. “Looks good. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He hops in his car and drives off before Aubrey and I are in my vehicle.
“Goodbye to you, too.” Aubrey waves to no one in particular. “Love that guy, but he needs to work on his people skills when he’s tired.” She chuckles as she slides into the passenger seat.
I turn the radio up higher than usual tonight to reduce the likelihood of an uncomfortable conversation. I would rather just get to her apartment, have sex, and go back to work in the morning. I realize how shallow that sounds, but at the moment, I don’t care. I try to avoid serious conversations with her at all costs. Not that she isn’t capable of having them, I just don’t want this thing we have to turn into anything more or less than it is. What we have works. I’d like to keep it that way.
“I’m going to hop in the shower. Feel free to join.” She winks and drops her stuff on her couch before disappearing into the bathroom.
I place my phone and wallet on the counter before lowering myself onto the couch. I listen to the monotone shower as she cleans up, trying to keep my eyes from closing.
“You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?” she asks, startling me awake.
“Nah. I’m still wide awake,” I lie, stretching my arms out over my head.
She comes around the front of the couch, wearing nothing but an old, oversized T-shirt with a picture of a forest and some very faded writing that's no longer legible. She saunters up to me, placing one leg between mine and the other kneeling on the couch.
My heart beats faster at the thought of what usually comes next. She pulls up her shirt over her curvy hips, allowing her warm skin to rest on my thighs. My khakis tighten, forcing me to shift in my seat. She lets the button on my pants loose and unzips them to give me more freedom.
“Tell me what’s been going on. You’re not yourself. I like the happier Dallas better.” She puts her short auburn hair into a bun on the top of her head.
“I’d really rather not talk about it.” I rest my hands on her bare thighs and squeeze the tattoos that cover them. They radiate with the same heat racing through my body.
“Are you sure?” She kisses the side of my neck.
“Very.” I don’t let her ask any more questions. My arm slips under her shirt, a firm grip on her breast. I quickly flip her over onto her back and pull my shirt off before hovering over her with a hand on either side of her head. She smiles at me with anticipation as our almost nightly routine ensues.
***
L ogan and I pull up to a bar just outside of Oxly. It’s almost noon and the parking lot is full. It’s a small meet, but motorcycles line the street, hogging all the good parking spots. We manage to slip our R6s into a small section at the end, stealing our own little area next to a brand-new Harley.
The heavy metal door to the dive bar squeals at us as we pull it open. The neon beer signs buzz, practically begging us to choose to drink one of them.
“Bar?” Logan asks over his shoulder.
“If you can find a seat,” I say, looking ahead at the heavily populated room. Most of this bar is just that, a bar. But a few small cocktail tables stand scattered throughout the crowded floor with a single wall lined with four red booths. At this point, there aren’t any open tables, so as Logan suggested, we make our way toward the dated wooden bar.
A short line has formed near one of the bartenders, so Logan and I get in line. I recognize a group of guys at one of the booths from campus only because there aren’t many college students who have their bikes with them at school. One of the guys, I couldn’t tell you his name, sends a knowing nod our way. I nod back just as the bartender asks us what we want to drink.
“Just water, please,” I say, before looking to Logan. “What do you want? I’ll pay.”
“Jack and Coke, thanks.”
As we carry our drinks carefully through the bar to find an open seat or table, I recognize another person. I’ve been seeing her around a lot lately. I think she was the one working at the register the day Dante was being so rude, and I saw her last weekend at Landry’s. Her black hair is tied into two tight braids over her shoulders. She’s with a guy, presumably her boyfriend. I wonder which bike out front is his.
A spot at one of the cocktail tables opens up and Logan and I join the other two guys at the table.
“So, have you learned anything else yet?” Logan asks after taking a long sip of his drink.
“Nothing yet. I haven’t even reached out to my dad to let him know we won. I’m a little upset that he wasn’t there and that he hasn’t even asked. So, you know what? Two can play that game.”
He narrows his eyes. “You could be the bigger person and reach out to him. Maybe he’s struggling with something.”
I shoot him a brash look. “I’m not saying he needs to divulge all his secrets, but a quick check-in would be nice.”
“I get it. But I still think there are better ways of going about this that don’t include you being upset the whole time.”
“Whatever, man.” Logan is one of the only people I let speak into my life. I don’t always take his advice, but he’s been that person for me to lean on all through college. We didn’t care for each other our freshman year. We started off in separate friend groups. There wasn’t really a rhyme or reason as to why the groups so naturally rivaled each other, especially when we were on the same baseball team, but at some point, Logan and I must have figured out how stupid it was. We started talking between innings and realized we had a lot in common.
I think it had a bit to do with our partying tendencies, especially because we went to a lot of the same parties the first two years of college. We ended up playing a drinking game with a group at one point and Logan and I had to shot gun a beer together. The best part about it was Logan had no idea how to shotgun anything and the beer ended up all over him. Since that night, we’ve gotten along great. So now we’re best friends and share an apartment.
We stand in silence watching people mingle around the bar for a while. “Are you ready for finals? How many do you have?” I ask, trying to change the subject to something easier to talk about.
“I think so. The only one I’m a little worried about is my capstone paper.”
“Well, I’d say that’s pretty good.”
“That’s the goal. You? You’ve only got one, right?”
“Yeah. It’s just my pharmaceutical class. Lots of drug questions. If only the drugs were more exciting,” I joke.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with a fun one if you had the chance,” he mocks.
I chuckle. He’s right. Baseball has kept me very disciplined.
“Are you going to Leo’s party on Friday?” Logan asks between sips.
“Yeah. I don’t have to work, surprisingly, so I’ll be able to go. Are you?” I ask, hoping he says yes. I would like the company, not that I wouldn’t find someone else to hang out with and Lord knows, some drunk girl will throw herself at me for the night. I wouldn’t be alone for long.
“I’ll be there. Unfortunately, I have to take it easy because I’m meeting my parents at a hotel for the weekend after the party for a family reunion. I don’t need another scolding for being hungover. It didn’t exactly go over well last time that happened.” He scrunches his nose, probably replaying the memory in his head. “And last time I was at home. Who knows what would happen if it was with the rest of my family.”
Logan’s parents are strict. They moved here from South Korea. I’ve since learned about the high expectations that typically come from Korean parents. Not that I blame them. It makes perfect sense to want your children to succeed. When we decided to get an apartment together two years ago, his parents threatened to stop paying for his schooling. He assured them he would continue playing baseball and that his grades wouldn’t falter. They haven’t, but they didn’t anticipate how much more freedom he would have while living off campus.
I look back at the bar, noticing the line has dwindled a bit, and spot the black-haired girl standing in line. My gut tells me to go up there, even if I can’t talk to her. “I’m going to grab another drink. You want one?”
“Grab me another, I’ll hold the table for us.”
As I make my way closer to the bar, the line moves up, and I inch my way in her direction, placing both of us belly up at the bar. For her, it’s more like chest up to the bar, her arms raised to rest on the edge. A bartender takes my order quickly but ignores her.
When no one has taken her order by the time my drinks come back, I pipe up. “Hey, she’s been waiting,” I holler over the loud crowd at the same man who took my order.
“Thanks,” she says, after ordering. She’s probably a foot shorter than me. Her dark eye makeup makes the blue of her eyes pop. Her nose ring glints in front of the bright lights overhead.
“No problem. You work at the cafeteria, right?”
She lets out a single breathy laugh. “I did. Yesterday was my last day. So much for that.” She shakes her head. When she finally looks up at me, a hint of pain flashes through those gorgeous light blue eyes. Her lashes are long, not fake, but coated with mascara. It’s a short glance, but enough for me to take a mental picture.
“I can't tell if I should be congratulating you or not.” I twist my brows together but pair it with a soft smile.
“If you ask my boyfriend, it’s a congratulations. I’m happy. So happy.” Sarcasm. Pure sarcasm drips from those round lips. The corner of her mouth ticks up with another small chuckle.
Boyfriend. Damn. I glance behind me, past Logan to the place I saw her standing earlier. A skinny blond-haired guy stands dressed in all black, same as her. His arms are folded tight across his chest. He glares at me, then at her. Found him. That wasn’t hard. The look he gives me screams “back off” but there’s something off about it. The look he gives her is all annoyance, so I turn back around, trying to ignore the eyes that bore holes through the back of my skull.
“That him back there?” I jerk my head back toward the guy I just made eye contact with.
She takes a short glance back before quickly turning back to the bar, her tight braids swinging with the movement. All the amusement she previously wore fades from her face, and I swear she almost turns pale. “Uh, yeah. I should get back.”
She grabs the two drinks from the bar, leaving me watching her as she rushes back to him, her hips swaying in tight black jeans.
Making my way back to our table with the drinks, I watch the two of them carefully. I wish I could have heard the conversation that proceeded between them. Irritation isn’t a good look for him. Her features contort tightly with each of his words. He looks back in my direction, searching for a moment before finding me. I would love nothing more than to smack that smug smile off his face. I can already tell he treats her like shit.
“You know that girl?” I ask, still watching them, and then kick myself, realizing I never got her name.
Logan looks back. His brows bunch together. “By the look on her man’s face, I don’t think I want to. Stay far away from that one, dude.” He shakes his head.
I try to forget the bright blue eyes I just met and focus on my conversation with Logan for the next twenty minutes. Knowing she’s behind me makes it all the more difficult. I’m thankful when Logan asks to leave.
“Yeah, I’m ready. I work tonight anyway. I’ll meet you out there. I’m going to bring these glasses back up to the bar.”
“What a gentleman,” Logan jokes and heads back out to the front.
While I’m leaving the bar, I find myself searching for the long black braids again, frustrated with myself for being so unwittingly fond of a stranger with a boyfriend. Logan's bike is running when I arrive, so I quickly follow suit and start mine.
As I pull my helmet over my head, I spot those two black braids peeking out from under a black helmet with a holographic visor. When the girl pops the visor up, her blue eyes confirm what my heart was hoping for. To her right stands her boyfriend, pulling his helmet over his shoulder-length blonde waves. He takes a seat on the blue bike next to him and I watch the girl, expecting her to take her place behind him. To my surprise, and my heart's delight, she gets on her own bike, what looks to be a Kawasaki Ninja. I can’t tell which one from the distance. The matte black sport bike is just short enough for her to reach the ground on her tiptoes. I’ve never been attracted to someone as they put their gloves on, but with each small movement, I feel my growing desire to know her better.