Chapter 5
DRAKE
“Yo! So where have you been hiding your girl all this time?”
“Yeah, Big-Talker-Walker… does this mean that sweet thing is coming to the games from now on?”
“If she does, she’ll be cheering for me…”
“She’ll be wearing my number once she sees me steal the bases…”
“Huh?” Drake said as he looked up from his cell phone where he’d been staring for the last few minutes in the locker room after practice. He was sitting on a bench, in a towel, half-listening to the wild banter going on around him.
“I said,” Toby drew out in a drawl, putting another pouch of chewing tobacco in his lip as he talked smack. “Your girl will be wanting a different jersey once she sees what I can do out there…”
Drake stood up slowly, rising to his feet, and met Toby’s obnoxious look with pure ice.
“My girl, as you put it, will never wear your name across her shoulders or your number on her chest. She’s mine – and you can sit your butt down and go back to chewing your cud,” he drew out in a menacing, no-nonsense voice, leaning into the other player and forcing him downward until he plopped ungainly onto the bench, making several guys laugh around them.
“She wants a man in her life – not a boy who rocks that jaw like Elsie-the-Cow, bruh…”
“Ohhhh burn! Got you there, Jenkins!”
“Stoosche – Big-Talker-Walker done’tole’ya, bro!”
Drake chuckled at Larry’s thick New York accent as everyone started making comments playfully, making Drake puff up his chest to take some of the heat out of the room. He didn’t want to fight his teammate, but there were lines you didn’t cross – and anything relating to Steffi was a big one.
“We both know my girl loves me for my pretty face,” Drake tossed glibly.
“I tell her to go get me a Gatorade every time Jenkins is up to bat…” – and tossed a wink to the other guy playfully, holding out his hand.
“No hard feelings, but I cannot compete with that awesome pouty lip you rock with that tobacco-turd in your cheek.”
“Man, shut up…” Jenkins laughed, taking Drake’s hand jovially. “Just hang onto your girl while you can – and I’m buying stock in Gatorade.”
“You should,” he said straight-faced. “It’s getting really expensive for me, but then again, if I made the big money like you do, Jenkins...”
“Pshaw – whatever…”
The locker room erupted in laughter, and even as Drake joined in with the guys, cutting up playfully, a part of his mind was working – because it suddenly dawned on him that he really wanted Steffi to come to the games, to cheer for him.
Yeah, he’d tossed that out between them before just to test the waters – but now, it was visceral.
He wanted her wearing his jersey, watching him play, and he really wanted her to go crazy over the ring instead of texting him one photo two days ago followed by silence. She hadn’t texted, hadn’t made a snide remark, nothing. No comments on his Camry… zilch.
The feelings were festering in him – first it started as something small, an itch at the back of his mind, a peevish annoyance.
Now, it was viable – something real, a tangent, an irritation under the skin that demanded scratching or medication.
Maybe that was what it was, he needed to self-medicate to get her out of his head… but how?
His mother thought he was madly in love with Steffi.
His brother Tommy had a big freakin’ mouth and would blab to everyone – including his mother – if he called asking for advice on how to talk to a girl.
Pete was the only one in the family that could keep his yap shut – and that’s cause he was a stiff-upper-lipped dork, a do-gooder, a chest-beating, Yankee-doodle dandy…
and Drake couldn’t be more proud of the twerp.
When he got to the car and had a little privacy, he’d call Pete, get this off his chest, or talk himself through whatever was going on in his brain, and settle things.
It was decided because Pete was usually busy enough with his wife, his buddies, or that sweet girl who had all of them wrapped around her tiny pinky fingers.
“Yep,” he muttered to himself, yanking a T-shirt from his locker. “Pete will know what to do, or I’ll talk with Sunny.”
Twenty minutes later, Drake regretted even dialing Pete’s phone number.
“SHUT UP AND QUIT LAUGHING!”
“Oh my gosh,” Pete wheezed on the phone, chortling wildly – which was so out of character for him, and you could hear Sunny in the background asking what was going on. “Is it my birthday? Holy cow, Drake – that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life…”
“What?” Sunny yelped in the background – and Drake rolled his eyes. Obviously, his brother decided that this was so freakin-hysterical that he put the very private phone call on speaker.
“Hi, Sunny,” Drake said glumly. “Can you tell my brother he’s a stuck-up-twerp and I called for genuine help, not to be laughed at.”
“Hi-ya, W-2…” Sunny began cheerfully, her voice louder now, and Drake frowned.
“I’m the oldest Walker – not second…”
“Not in my book, W-2. My Petey-the-Sweetie is numero uno in my book, which bumps your older-and-crankier-butt to numero dos. Besides, I thought it was clever to call you W-2 because you used to tax my sweet hubby – get it? Things are good now, and we’re one big happy family right – and about to grow again! ”
“You’re pregnant?”
“Good gravy noooo – bite your tongue! And unless you’re about to poop a watermelon into the potty to see what it feels like, you are not allowed to speak on the matter.”
Drake rolled his eyes as Pete started laughing again in the background. “Ask him why he called us, Sunny-Bunny…”
“You distinctly do not ‘poop’ a child in the toilet,” Drake frowned, ignoring his brother and steering the conversation before it exploded in his face – again.
“Says a man…” Sunny scoffed.
“Says any man… because you delivered via C-section in the hospital, Sunny – remember? Or were the drugs too strong?”
“But I went into labor,” she argues. “And if someone is finally asking my opinion on the drugs, they were not strong enough. Sheesh. I felt like my insides were about to take a walk through what felt like a Ziploc baggie. Walk with a pillow to hold pressure on your tummy… puh-lease! Have you ever wobbled with a pillow on your belly and tried to hold a baby – it’s not easy. ”
“Wait, if you’re not pregnant, then what are you… Ohhhh…” Drake cringed – she was referring to the family growing because of Steffi.
Whoops.
“Ask him why he called,” Pete said again – and burst out laughing once more, causing Drake to sigh heavily as his finger hovered over the radio display about to hang up on the two of them.
“Whatcha need, W-2?”
“Migraine medicine – and patience,” Drake retorted and drew in his breath, before letting it out. What good did it do him to attempt to have his pride when it was already in tatters on the floor? “Sunny, I’m struggling with Steffi…”
“Oh nooo, honey. I haven’t gotten a chance to meet her yet – don’t blow it already.”
“I’m not trying to,” Drake admitted hoarsely. “That’s why I’m calling. She’s not talking to me as much – and I thought I was making headway with her or that we were finally past the whole arguing phase, but…”
“Sometimes things are difficult,” Sunny interrupted knowingly. “You Walkers and your ‘I’m-tough-machoism’…”
“Hey…” Pete began as Drake hollered, “Whoa now… really?”
“You boys – Tommy included – are hard-headed, sweet, sexy things…”
“That’s better,” Drake grunted.
“She’s talking about me,” Pete chimed in quickly.
“I’m talking about all of you – heaven help the woman that wants a well-raised Southern boy because for all your ‘Yes ma’ams’ and ‘No ma’ams’ there’s a spirit in you men that is frankly a little infuriating and annoying because your ego is as big as your boots and snug as your britches…”
“Um…”
“Sounds like she’s got us pegged…”
“So here’s what you do,” Sunny interrupted. “You start the attack using the ol’ tried-and-true ‘Sunny Protocol’.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m about to tell you, if you’ll just hush for a minute – and you! Petey, yes, you – don’t look innocent. I need a burp cloth, a chocolate bar, and a glass of water, in that order… don’t make me tell you twice.”
“You know, Drake,” Pete began with a strange tone to his voice. “There’s something sublime in having a strong woman ask for help.”
“It’s because I wanted to see you walk away,” Sunny purred – and Drake gagged openly.
“Um, hello? Back to me, please?”
“Hold on a second,” Sunny growled again. “Meeee-yow those tight little running shorts the Air Force makes you wear for PT are the hottest things, I swear.”
“SUNNY – Me!” Drake snapped, clicking his fingers in frustration. “Hello? Me, please. I need help with my girl, and then you can go pounce on my brother… heaven help me, I said that aloud.”
“Um, yeah, you did – and I love the idea,” Sunny chuckled and then crooned something to Pete in the background that made his brother laugh again.
Yeah, he wanted a relationship like that for himself, and he couldn’t see Steffi being interested in him like that.
“Now listen up, do I have your full attention?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So here is what you’re gonna do…”
Drake listened in disbelief, wonder, and confusion – because it seemed so incredibly simple, and it was hard to believe it worked on his brother.
According to Sunny, Pete fell hard for her despite all of his arguments, and Drake could believe it.
She was almost as hard-headed as the rest of the Walker family and fit right in.
“If the shoe fits, right?” Sunny chuckled. “Go get your woman, W-2.”
“Thanks, Sunny – you’re the best.”
“Oh, I know,” she tossed in a sing-song voice that made him smile. “Now, I’m gonna hang up because your brother just lost those sexy shorts and there are zero tan lines. It’s playtime for me and…”
Drake ended the call himself – and resisted the urge to pull over to scratch his eyes out of his head. Yeah, he definitely wanted a love like that someday.
“Pete, you are a very lucky guy… and I’m so happy for you both.”