Baseball Dads: Sex, Drugs, Murder, Children's Baseball Part 31

Was he waking up from a complete psychotic break from reality? Was he putting Alex at risk? What would Alex do if his father were in prison for the rest of his life? What else was he capable of? s.h.i.t!

Had he made so many stupid mistakes that prison was inevitable? Was it possible that he might actually belong in prison?

Dwayne put his face in the palm of his hands. His heart was racing.

He reached over to the nightstand beside his bed, grabbed a half-smoked joint, and lit it. He took a drink of water, walked into the bathroom, and turned on the light.

In the mirror, Dwayne stared deep into his own eyes.

"Who the f.u.c.k are you?" he asked himself.

He thought about the people who had died in the previous few days. He thought about the condescending a.s.sholes he had stood up to. He thought about those arrogant, hypocritical, soulless insults to humanity. He'd put them in their places.

There was no doubt that what he was doing and who he had become might have been considered unconventional. But taking a step back from the way the world viewed society and taking a look at how evolution and the cosmos really worked ... wasn't he ultimately doing it right? Wasn't it possible that everyone else was wrong?

Was it possible that for most of his life he had been living in a break from reality, and the true reality-the primal, real, violent, natural, but ultimately honest way-wasn't it possible that this was the way it was meant to be?

Regardless of lives lost and the risk of collateral damage, wasn't this way the only way to have a civilization with any shred of social justice?

That's when it came back to him. "I know who the f.u.c.k you are," Dwayne said to himself.

He leaned in close to the mirror. "You're a motherf.u.c.king Jedi."

Alex came blasting through the bedroom door the next morning at 7:03. He dove into the bed between his mom and dad, laughing. His parents took turns tickling him.

"WAAAHOOOOOO!" he yelled. "I can't believe we won yesterday! Finally! That was so awesome!"

"You were awesome, buddy," Estelle said proudly. "You were crushing the ball! And your pitching totally killed those guys!"

"Thank you so much for coaching, Dad!" Alex beamed. "You're so much better than Coach Dale and Coach Rearden. I hope it's okay to say that. I know they died and all. Or at least Coach Dale did."

Estelle looked over at Dwayne.

"I'm pretty sure Coach Rearden is dead too," she said. "What do you think, Dwayne?"

"Yeah, he may not have been a very good coach, son," Dwayne smiled. "But he makes a h.e.l.l of a fertilizer."

Alex looked confused, and then moved on to the next subject.

"Hey, Dad, you think we can go to the batting cages today?"

"Sure thing, little man. Go watch TV while your mom and I get ready, and then I'll cook up some bacon and eggs."

Alex jumped off the end of the bed and took off toward the living room, swinging the bedroom door shut behind him.

Estelle rolled over on her side, facing Dwayne, and ran her hand up his leg slowly until it reached its destination. She gripped him tightly. "Well, h.e.l.lo there, fella," she whispered in his ear. "You sure feel happy to see me."

"I need to brush my teeth real quick, babe," he said. "And then I'm gonna lay the smack down on that a.s.s."

"Oooh," she grinned. "I love when you talk hip-hop."

Dwayne ripped his underwear off as quickly as he could without tearing his skin, and hustled into the bathroom. Estelle pa.s.sed a toothbrush covered in toothpaste back over her shoulder with one hand as she brushed away with her other. Dwayne moved in close behind her, and she closed her eyes.

Within seconds, both toothbrushes. .h.i.t the floor. Estelle planted both hands firmly on the mirror in front of her and pushed herself back into Dwayne over and over again. Dwayne spun her around and picked her up, hobbling around as he walked, and the two of them crashed through the master bedroom closet door.

Dwayne pushed Estelle up against the side of the closet where his suits and dress shirts hung. She swung one arm behind her, searching for something to balance herself on while she held on to Dwayne with the other arm. She grabbed the railing his clothes were hanging on as he thrust himself against her. The entire rack of suits and shirts came crashing to the floor.

Dwayne bent over and set her down on the pile of freshly fallen clothing, where they spent the next twenty minutes rolling around on the floor, ripping clothes from hangers, tossing shoes out of the way, and completely destroying their closet in the throes of pa.s.sion.

When they were finished, Dwayne helped Estelle to her feet. They laughed at the damage they'd done. Dwayne loved watching Estelle laugh, especially when she was naked, with her hair pointing in a thousand directions.

One hour after Alex had left, Estelle and Dwayne emerged from the bedroom, fresh and ready to go.

"Holy cow, what took so long?" Alex called from the living room.

"Sorry, son, I had to give something to your mom. Three times, actually."

Alex could tell there was an inside joke. He turned back to the television to watch sports bloopers. Dwayne figured he might have two more years left of being able to say s.h.i.t like that to Alex before he figured out that it was code for driving wood.

Dwayne got the bacon and eggs started. Estelle started the coffee and sat down with her iPad to read the local news.

"Oh, s.h.i.t," she said. "Honey, you may want to take a look at this."

On the front of the local news website was an article ent.i.tled "Missing Coaches at Jenny Field."

The article opened with the details of Ricky Dale's abduction-his body flying out of an old van that was driven by a man or woman in a snowsuit. It didn't pull any punches when discussing the condition of the body, and the distance between it and the head.

Police believed they were looking for at least two people ... the driver and the person who pushed Ricky Dale out of the van. The cops said they had no leads in the case, but were very actively investigating, especially in light of the fact that two more coaches went missing after Ricky's demise.

Pete Rearden, the article stated, had disappeared from the parking lot of the Walmart where he had worked for several years. The surveillance system set up in the parking lot at the Walmart had not been set to record, a flaw that went unnoticed until the incident. Again, police had no leads, but were actively investigating.

Thomas "T-Bone" Sprinkle had not been seen since Thursday afternoon. A quote from his wife stated, "He's probably drunk and got robbed by wh.o.r.es." Police took this into consideration, but were still expressing concern.

The only common denominator between the three men was their connection to Jenny Field. Police said this could be a coincidence, but they would be following up.

Dwayne's phone quacked.

"Sweetie, I think I need to take this," Dwayne said, kissing Estelle on the forehead. "Don't worry, babe, everything is fine. Can you finish up with the bacon and eggs?"

"Sure thing, honeybuns," she replied.

Dwayne walked out to his back porch and took a seat on a lawn chair. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

STEVE:.

Holy s.h.i.t. Check the Fort Worth News website.

DWAYNE:.

Already did. Stay calm. Dave, time to ditch the van and burn it.

RUSS:.

Oh my G.o.d. There's a dude in my bed again.

DAVE:.

I don't have intrneet. Whut happnd?

RUSS:.

Oh Jesus, this guy looks like he's 80 years old! WTF?

DAVE:.

Don't unnerstand.

RUSS:.

NAKED OLD LADY! NAKED OLD LADY! Oh, thank G.o.d, it's a naked old lady.

DWAYNE:.

Dave, drop whatever you're doing, put your motorcycle in your van, take the van a long way away in the middle of nowhere, pour gasoline all over it, light it, and haul a.s.s on your motorcycle. Now.

RUSS:.