Baseball Dads: Sex, Drugs, Murder, Children's Baseball Part 10

"Do you remember," she said in a whisper as she leaned in close to his ear, "back before life got complicated? Back when we were just a couple of crazy kids?"

Dwayne couldn't speak. She had a solid grip on his johnson, and it was nearing the point where it couldn't get any firmer.

"All we ever wanted back then was to be happy, baby," Estelle continued. "And it was just s.e.x, s.e.x, s.e.x ..."

She ripped the belt out of the loops and whipped it across the desk like a dominatrix, which caused a POP! like a firecracker. Dwayne's pants fell to the floor.

Estelle took a step back and removed her hat and sungla.s.ses before pulling her sundress over her head slowly and tossing it to a chair across the room. She turned away from Dwayne and walked to the gla.s.s wall overlooking the warehouse, wearing nothing but a yearning grin. She placed her hands up high on the window, arched her back, and a.s.sumed the position.

He hoped that none of his workers were in the warehouse to witness the show that was about to take place in the window of the boss's office.

"I don't know what's come over you, Dwayne," Estelle said. "But something's changed. And I like it. I want you to take me right f.u.c.king now."

G.o.d, she looked amazing, he thought. He tore his shirt off, popping every b.u.t.ton in the process. He kicked his pants away from his feet and marched up behind Estelle, planting her face against the gla.s.s as he made love to her like he hadn't in years.

After several minutes, Estelle turned and pushed him backward to the desk. In one violent motion, she swept everything from the desk onto the floor, shoved Dwayne onto the desk, and climbed on top of him.

"Holy s.h.i.t, Estelle," he grunted. "This is just like a p.o.r.no! This is awesome!"

Estelle was screaming. She was really into it. Dwayne didn't know that s.e.x like this actually existed. When they finished, he couldn't move a single muscle in his body. He had experienced one of those full-body o.r.g.a.s.ms that, up until then, he figured only people like Sting had. He lay flat on his back, completely naked atop his desk, as Estelle limped over to her sundress and pulled a joint and lighter from her pocket. She climbed back on top of him and lit the joint. They pa.s.sed it back and forth a few times before anyone said a word.

"I know most guys don't like it when their wives show up unannounced at work," Dwayne said as he stared up at Estelle, who had begun to rock her hips ever so softly as she sat perched on top of him. "But feel free to do this anytime."

Estelle took a long pull from the joint as she constricted the muscles in her thighs. She looked back down at him with a seductive snarl on her perfect lips.

"You're a real f.u.c.king rock star when you want to be," she whispered.

"You haven't seen anything yet."

For the rest of the afternoon, Dwayne couldn't shake the image of Estelle, how she slowly pulled her sundress up over her head, her sultry smile. She never wore underwear, and he was thankful for that gift. He'd stood at the window and watched her as she walked down the stairs and out the door. Something had stirred inside of him. He wanted things to work with her now. Perhaps they could. He had to find a way to convince her to reign in her spending or they would be having the best s.e.x in the housing projects.

Dwayne looked at his watch. It was time for practice. First, he needed to stop by the house and throw on a different shirt. His office looked as though a tornado of p.o.r.n had blown through it. A p.o.r.nado, if you will. He left everything as it was, pulled his arm through the sleeves of his b.u.t.tonless shirt, and flipped off the lights.

Dwayne grabbed what he needed from his work truck and hopped into the Audi. He popped on his Ray-Ban Wayfarers, pushed the ignition b.u.t.ton, and let the engine purr for a few seconds before cranking up one of the best factory stereos ever placed inside a vehicle. Guns N' Roses, "Welcome to the Jungle." Perfect.

This was shaking out to be a kick-a.s.s day. He wasn't thinking about his debts anymore. He had a Jedi level of focus, and the k.n.o.b on his focus was now turning to baseball. He burst through his front door with his shirt torn open and wind-swept hair a mess, sungla.s.ses still on to help mask being moderately high. A group of the neighborhood ladies were sitting around the dining room table with Estelle, knocking back bottles of wine and vodka. He'd obviously interrupted a heated session of talking s.h.i.t.

Dwayne caught a few disapproving glances from the judgmental, gossiping b.i.t.c.hes as he brushed past them. He glanced across the table at Estelle, who gave him a grin. He grinned back. G.o.d, she looked hot.

"What's going on with the torn shirt, Dwayne?" Tiffany Blaine, a trust-fund society snoot, snipped as he walked past the table. "Did you tear it mowing lawns, dear?"

"No, Tiff, I tore it mowing a.s.s," he shot back. "You look great, by the way. The facelift looks amazing. And the collagen injections in your lips really add to the whole Pica.s.so look. Bet you can't wait for the diet pills to kick in so you have the whole package."

Tiffany's surgically tightened face tightened even further. She had never been spoken to like that. Estelle turned away to hide her laughter. She was turned on to no end by the new Dwayne.

Moments later, Alex joined his father at the front door, bat bag in hand. The two of them walked out to the Audi, popped in, and tore off toward the field.

"You feeling okay, Dad?" Alex asked.

"Do I not look okay, buddy? Dwayne replied.

"Actually, I don't think I've ever seen you with this much pep in your step. Just wanted to make sure things are okay."

"Things are great, buddy. Things are great."

Practice had already begun when Dwayne and Alex arrived. It was impossible to avoid the huddle of parents and nannies as Dwayne headed for the dugout. There was talk of how great a coach Ricky Dale had been, how they would miss him, what a big event the funeral would be the following day, and what a good thing it was that Pete Rearden had stepped in to fill his shoes as coach.

Pete had positioned Jackson at left field, with TJ and Jonathan both doubled up at right field. It was the same old s.h.i.t. Nothing had changed.

Dwayne told Alex to put his bag in the dugout, grab his glove, and head to shortstop, where Ace, the son of the late Ricky Dale, was playing. "I'm making a change at shortstop," Dwayne said to the baseball dads. "Maybe you guys should make some changes too."

Pete, sporting two black eyes thanks to Russ, had been standing at home plate, hitting b.a.l.l.s to the kids in the field. The only reason that left and right field were getting any action was because the infield couldn't catch a ball and make a play. Almost every ball hit to an infielder went between that infielder's legs and into the outfield.

When Alex walked to shortstop and stood beside Ace, Pete stopped hitting b.a.l.l.s.

"Hey, Alex, glad you could make it," Pete yelled. "Try not to be late next time. Now head to left field with Jackson. You two can take turns."

"Stay right there, Alex," Dwayne called out. "Pete, Alex is playing shortstop now. Ace, go grab a spot in the outfield."

"But the outfield is already taken," Ace said to Dwayne.

"Yeah, I know, that sucks, but we're going to play this game to win now, and we can't do that with you at shortstop, so go double up at center."

Pete was furious. He didn't like his coaching being called into question.

"Now listen here, Dwayne, I'm the coach of this team, and-"

"And what? You want to lose? Is that what you want? Because that's what we've been doing while we waste talent on the bench, in the field, and in the lineup. This s.h.i.t needs to stop."

"Well, if you don't like it, you can pack up and leave, Dwayne."

"I don't think so, Pete. And while we're making changes, I want Jonathan at third, TJ at second, and Jackson at first."

"My son plays first, Dwayne," Pete insisted.

"Whoop-dee-f.u.c.kin'-doo, Pete. Your son sucks at first. He also sucks at batting. He needs to be the G.o.dd.a.m.n caboose in our batting order."

"f.u.c.k you, Dwayne, the positions stand as they did when Ricky Dale was coaching. If you don't like that, you can quit."

"Listen, man, I know it sucks to work at Walmart, but you made that decision on your own. Don't take your s.h.i.tty life out on these kids. It's not helping anything. These kids deserve to win a game."

"Not everyone can afford a fancy house and fancy things, a.s.shole, but that doesn't make you better than me. It's time for you to leave before I call the cops."

Dwayne wondered why Walmart Pete would know he had a fancy house but brushed it off. He knew he couldn't allow Pete to call the cops. Not after they'd just had the head coach killed. That wouldn't be smart. He looked over at Russ, Tommy, and Steve, who were in awe of the hostile takeover that had almost taken place.

G.o.ddammit, Dwayne thought. The day had been going so well. He would have to lose this battle for the time being. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Go on out to left field, Alex," Dwayne shouted over to shortstop in defeat.

Alex slumped over and headed out to left. He was filled with disappointment, and dragged his feet for the entire walk. It killed Dwayne. Dwayne had fire in his eyes as he marched back to where his friends were standing at the fence.

"Dude!" Steve sped over to Dwayne. "That was awesome!"

Dwayne was too p.i.s.sed off to respond. He couldn't believe that miserable little Walmart nerd Pete didn't back down.

"What the h.e.l.l has gotten into you, Dwayne?" Tommy asked.

"I'll tell you what got into me!" Dwayne snapped. "I thought we were all on the same page here, guys. Is it too much to ask for a little backup? I mean ... Jesus, I was out there fighting for your kids too! Russ? What the f.u.c.k?! You can organize a hit and whip a baseball at a guy's face, but you can't get out there and fight for your son?"

"Take it easy there, a.s.shole." Russ jumped in Dwayne's face. "Just because half the G.o.dd.a.m.n town is ballin' your wife doesn't give you the right to get s.h.i.tty with me."

Dwayne grabbed Russ by the shirt and shoved him against the fence. He wanted to hit him. The fist was ready.

"f.u.c.k!" Dwayne blurted out through gritted teeth. He let go of Russ and walked off past the bleachers, through the parking lot, and to his car. He climbed inside and sparked up a joint. He glanced to his right, at the old Honda parked next to his Audi. Dave the umpire was inside, smoking a joint of his own.

Dave started giggling at the idea of both of them smoking weed at the same time and motioned for Dwayne to roll his window down. "Hey, bro, you need any more weed?"

"No, Dave, I appreciate it though."

"Things not working out the way you'd hoped?"

"What the f.u.c.k does that mean?" Dwayne froze. He didn't want to give this jacka.s.s any indication that he'd been involved in the Ricky Dale situation.

Dave looked puzzled. He always looked puzzled, but even more so this time. "Oh. Never mind. I got some good weed back at the trailer if you ever wanna come smoke out or something."

"Sounds great, Dave. I'll put it on my calendar."

Dwayne rolled his window back up and tossed the joint on the ground as he exited his vehicle. He walked back into the ballpark, as batting practice had begun, and took a seat by his crew.

Pete was pitching the ball to the batters. He couldn't pitch a single ball into the strike zone. It frustrated Pete to no end that Dwayne, Russ, Tommy, and Steve were in the bleachers, watching ... judging ... hara.s.sing.

"I think they sell some good stuff for pitching practice at Target, Pete," Tommy yelled out to him.

"I mean, you could probably pick something up while you're greeting people at Walmart," Russ added. "But Walmart stuff sucks. Target is way better."

Pete was sweating. He was about to lose it. He continued to throw b.a.l.l.s everywhere but where a kid could hit. The kids were swinging wildly, swatting the bats high and low, trying to make something connect.

"Wow," Tommy continued. "This is such a huge loss for Major League Baseball. I can't believe you never got signed. But Walmart sure scored. d.a.m.n, they are one lucky company to have you."

"Did you throw your arm out stacking tampons on the shelves? I hear that stacking tampons has ruined several otherwise potentially great athletes," Russ shouted.

"Guys, PLEASE!" Pete screamed. "I can't concentrate!"

Pete went through the first seven batters without throwing a strike. The catcher was sweating profusely from having to dive in every direction while attempting to catch the wild pitches.

"Hey, Pete, if your arm gets sore, I think they have sports cream on aisle seven," Russ yelled. "I'm sure you know where the sports cream is, being such a f.u.c.king athlete."

"Jesus, Russ," Dwayne said. "There are kids around."

Everyone was suddenly silent as Alex came out to bat. Dwayne almost didn't let him bat because he didn't want him to get in the habit of swinging at bad pitches. He was too p.i.s.sed off to stop him, though.

The first pitch that Pete threw to Alex was high and inside. It wasn't intentionally high and inside, but that just happened to be where it went. And Alex loved the high and inside ball. He ripped into it with his gorgeous, natural swing ... absolutely crushed it. It was a beautiful ball, sailing as sweet and deep as a ball can sail toward center field. It cleared the smiling, leathery face of Ricky Dale on the Ricky Dale's Furniture Store Official Scoreboard by a good ten feet.

Everyone in attendance stared at the face of Ricky Dale looking down upon them. Pete took his hat off as a gesture of respect. Ace dropped to the ground in tears. It was a touching moment.

"f.u.c.k YEAH, ALEX!" Russ jumped to his feet. "WAY TO KNOCK THE s.h.i.t OUTTA THAT BALL!!!"

Alex took off running around the bases, as you would in an important game with everything on the line. He raised his arms up in the air as he rounded third base and headed home. Jonathan, TJ, and Jackson all ran to home plate to tackle him.

The rest of the team had their arms around Ace, who sobbed uncontrollably.

"That's it for the day, people," Pete announced to the nannies, parents, and kids. "We'll practice again day after tomorrow, same time. I'm sure I'll see most of you at the funeral. Take care."

Pete set off solemnly toward the dugout.

"Thanks, Pete," Russ replied. "That was really cool of Walmart to supply your wardrobe, by the way."

Pete began to gather his things, as did the kids. He was angry and embarra.s.sed at how the practice had gone, especially the heckling from Russ and Tommy. No one respected him. It was just like when he told his family he'd gotten a job at Walmart.

Alex ran up and hugged his dad. Dwayne's eyes teared up momentarily. Alex knew how much his dad wanted him to be happy, and he knew it upset him when he had to play left field again. Hitting the ball over the fence vindicated both of them.

Dwayne didn't have much to say to anyone as he walked out to his car with his son. He felt drained. Pete had taken the wind out of his sails. He told himself he would fight on, though. He wasn't going to give up. He liked who he was becoming. He had hope for his family, his business, his marriage ...

He watched Pete with a simmering gaze as Pete exited the field juggling a large bucket of b.a.l.l.s, a bat bag, and catcher's gear.

His jaw dropped as he watched Pete pop the trunk open on a five-year-old burgundy Toyota Avalon.

Dwayne dropped Alex off at the house. He told him to let Estelle know he didn't get a chance to finish his work that day and had to head back to the warehouse. "She'll understand," he a.s.sured Alex with a smile.

Dwayne couldn't face Estelle right then. Things had been going too well. He needed to think about things. Technically, he thought to himself, she'd had s.e.x with Pete before things were looking better between the two of them. So he might be able to give her a pa.s.s this time.

But Pete? Seriously? She had to f.u.c.k a guy that worked at Walmart? Jesus. He had known for a while that she'd slept around, but he didn't care then because he didn't even like her. Now, he thought, he might be falling back in love with her. And that Walmart thing really bugged him.