Chapter 2
GRAYSON
Every time I’m back in California after visiting my father in New York, I’m relieved. Grateful even. The house on the Upper West Side doesn’t feel the same since mom passed away.
The two day trip felt like months. Having to listen to my father speak about my future as though it was his, got old years ago. Frankly, the best part of my visit was the return flight home.
However, it was essential that I attend. I’ve never missed a Rhodes Foundation board meeting and I don’t plan on starting now. Even if it’s my last semester at Tower Lake, my last season playing TLU Lions baseball, and the last few months to live my life on my terms.
My phone rings again. It’s as though he doesn’t have a billion dollar company to run. I don’t bother answering my father’s call and let it go to voicemail as usual. Minutes after I toss the phone on the passenger seat, the guys start blowing it up.
Samuel Alvarez
wgens gray flying in ??
Trevor Harris
Someone take Sammy’s phone away please!
Troy Kim
can’t. baddie coming my way
Michael Svenson
Where is Sammy?
Trevor Harris
Kitchen.
Dude might be the worst texter ever!
Samuel Alvarez
tganks! r we pickin hiim up
Troy Kim
i volunteer
I’m guessing Sammy’s drunk already. By the way, Troy is not allowed to drive my car. Not only because I’m currently driving it, but because he ran straight into a pine tree the first and only time I let him borrow it.
Michael Svenson
You are not allowed to drive his vehicle.
Trevor Harris
Big Mike’s right. You’ll only knock down another maple haha!!
Troy Kim
it was a pine tree asshole and it happened ONCE
Trevor Harris
That’s all it takes man.
Trevor’s usually the one giving me shit to lighten up. I’m surprised he’s the one messing with Troy. Given that Sammy’s already had a few, guess it makes sense.
Samuel Alvarez
we driv o wha?
Grayson Rhodes
No need. Be there in ten.
I don’t ask for favors. Ever. Truth is I don’t like owing anyone anything. Even something as simple as being picked up from the airport is something that I won’t allow to happen.
Samuel Alvarez
woooo !
Trevor Harris
Pick up some pizzas on the way!
Troy Kim
ignore him. lots of food here
Trevor Harris
But it’s NOT pizza!!
They’ll still be fighting when I get to Gibson Place. Of that, I’m certain.
Before I pull up, it’s clear they’re throwing a party. No doubt the whole team’s there. Hell, the whole school. If the street lined with cars, most double parked, didn’t give it away, the music and crowd noise I heard a block away would.
Personally, I’d rather go to The Lion’s Den.
Even Kitty’s Cavern would be preferable to dealing with strangers in my space.
I don’t mind the blaring music or the inevitable fights, but the cleanup afterwards is always a bitch.
Still, judging by all the girls checking me out as I exit my car, I’m about to live up to my reputation yet again.
Everyone is drunk. Everyone, except me. It’s not even close to midnight yet. Might be a new house record.
Sammy Alvarez, the team’s starting catcher, is shit faced behind the DJ table. He’s not playing any music, but I’m sure he’s requesting his favorite Spanish love songs. When he sees me, he stumbles over.
“Grayson! Bro! When’d you get back?” he shouts, throwing an arm around my shoulder.
“Two hours ago. You took my keys away,” I remind him.
I’m not sure why he did that, I rarely drink during the baseball season.
And if I do happen to drink, I know better than to get behind the wheel.
Perhaps Sammy took my keys so I’d stay for the entirety of the party.
I have been known to leave early. Usually with a girl or two.
“That’s right!” he slurs with a laugh. “C’mon, we got next! The quarterback and his offensive line want a rematch.”
Since we destroyed the football team so bad last week, I heard their assistant coach had them running lines the next day because of the second hand embarrassment. Beer pong is not their game.
When the music changes from dance to reggaeton, the crowd erupts in cheers. By the time Sammy and I get to the beer pong table, he’s dancing while impressively carrying a red Solo cup full of beer without spilling any. A pair of twins approach me, all smiles as they invite me back to their place.
I might go. Might not. Whatever happens this night or any other night, one thing is certain, I will wake up alone in my bed. I don’t do sleepovers. And no one is ever allowed in my room.
“Looks like you’re busy, bro,” Trevor laughs, eyeing the twins, there’s one hanging on each of my arms. “I’ll help Sammy take down these football clowns. Then, we’ll go for tacos!”
Trevor Harris plays first base and happens to have a metabolism to rival a blue whale, but the guy has my back, always. He walks past me to the pool table.
“We got next!” Trevor howls, high-fiving every palm in the air.
“Make way for the big dogs!” Sammy hollers. He proceeds to bark, making everyone laugh. Not the football team though. They look pissed. Fuck them.
I’m more concerned about Sam. He looks like he’s about to pass out any second.
“How many have you had to drink?”
His brown eyes narrow in irritation. He rarely gets upset, which is why the look is unexpected and draws an amused smirk from me.
“Only three beers, dad,” he slurs.
I’d say he’s lying but we all know that Sammy cannot handle his alcohol. “Plus the one you’re holding,” I add.
He looks down at the cup in his hand like he can’t remember when it got there or whether it’s his or not.
At the rate he’s going, he’ll be sick. When that happens, he will undoubtedly ask me to reschedule or cancel tomorrow’s practice, knowing I won’t. I never do. No exceptions. I’m the team captain for a reason and I make sure everyone shows up to every practice. No excuses.
It’s time to call it a night.
When I spot Troy and Big Mike, I wave them over. Troy Kim is our shortstop who loves partying and driving muscle cars, but hates the after-party clean up or being the designated driver.
“We left those linemen eating shit!” he laughs as he and Big Mike head our way.
Big Mike, full name Michael Svenson, plays right field and has a cannon for an arm. We were the only two starting freshman on the team way back when. He slaps my back with his big, heavy hand. “I am glad you are home safe,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
He’s the only guy who makes me feel like a little brother. While I’m 6’2”, he’s 6’5” and 240 lbs. Don’t let his size fool you, though, he’s the kindest person in the house. Always lending a hand and looking out for everyone. My teammates, they’re all good guys.
“Help Sammy to his room, yeah?”
“Sure thing, Cap,” Troy salutes. He’s looking equally intoxicated.
Big Mike realizes the same thing. “I have them,” he assures me as he leads both towards the staircase.
“Aww man, nah. I’m not tired.” Sammy hiccups as he sways with each step. “Whoa. Maybe I should sleep a little.”
“Alright,” my voice booms through our house, cutting through the music. “Party’s over.”