These Paper Walls

by Magan Vernon

  Libby looped her arm through mine. "Gee, Julie, I'd love to say it was nice to see you, but it's not. We have to go now. We'll probably be making out or something, hopefully we don't see you again, have a great day. Bye!" Libby pulled me through the door and out to the muggy air.

  "Wow, that wasn't awkward at all," Libby said, chewing her chocolate bar as she got into the car.

  "There wasn't a need to be rude," I mumbled, starting the car.

  "Really? That was your ex-girlfriend. One of the biggest bitches I've ever met. I mean, not that you have a nice ex, but her and Nikki are pretty much cream of the crop."

  I shook my head and let out a short laugh. "Yeah, like that douchebag, frat boy ex of yours is any better."

  She finished the last of her chocolate bar and shoved the wrapper back in the bag. "Yeah, but he doesn't always show up and try to put a move on me."

  "He probably would if he lived here."

  "No. He's a stripper in Chicago."

  I turned my head sharply toward her. "How do you know he's a stripper? Did he come give you a private dance at your bachelorette party or something?"

  She laughed. "Actually, yes. The guy is so dumb he didn't put two and two together that it was my sister who hired his company. It was actually quite humorous."

  I shook my head, clenching my hands on the steering wheel. "And you didn't think it would be a good idea to tell me that your ex was at your bachelorette party and getting naked for you?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Seriously? It's a stripper. A male stripper. There is nothing sexy about some guy dancing and waving a dick in my face."

  "It must have meant something if you felt the need to keep it from me."

  "Oh my god, are you seriously getting jealous right now?"

  I tightened my jaw. I didn't want to be. I'd only met her ex once and I decked him in the face after he called Libby a bitch. He was a stereotypical frat rat with spiky hair, sunglasses even at night, and wasted off his ass. I couldn't believe she didn't tell me he got naked at her bachelorette party.

  "I'm not jealous. I just don't understand why you wouldn't tell me that." I tried to keep my voice even, but inside I was fuming. All of these months and she couldn't bother to tell me that she had recently seen her ex naked.

  "Because it was stupid. Yes, my ex is now a stripper and my husband is a hard-working man and way better at everything. Obviously I did a better job and married up."

  I didn't say anything and she put her hand on my cheek, turning my face toward hers. "Look, Blaine Crabtree, I may be hormonal. I may be crazy, but I'm also crazy about you and I'd like to think you're just as crazy about me. So to make both of us happy and not get even crazier, can we just agree to stop with the jealousy shit and get to Aunt Dee's? We've probably already missed the fire trucks and I'd really like some candy."

  I didn't want to stop the conversation, but there was really nothing else to say. If we kept talking, then we'd just keep arguing. So I nodded and then kissed her cheek before slowly backing out of the spot.

  "So...who was that older guy you were talking to?"

  "That was my high school baseball coach and he wants me to stop by the tournament later today. We don't have to, but it might be nice."

  I glanced at Libby out of the corner of my eye, expecting her to wrinkle her nose or roll her eyes, but instead she smiled. "I think that's a great idea."

  I turned toward her, then looked back at the road. "Seriously?"

  "Yeah, why not? You love baseball and you haven't played in a while. It couldn't hurt to maybe stop by since we have to see Britt play anyway."

  I put my hand on hers on the console between us and squeezed her hand. "Awesome. Thanks, baby."

  "No need to thank me. It's just what wives do. When I know something makes you happy and it doesn't hurt us, then I'm going to push you to do it. I don't want you to end up hating me."

  "I could never hate you, Libby."

  She sighed. "You say that now, but when Mathieu is born and we're both without sleep and you just want to get away, you may not be saying that."

  I pulled her hand to my mouth and brushed my lips against her knuckles. "Never."

  ***

  After the parade, Libby and I walked hand in hand down the small downtown area to the high school where the boys were already warming up on the field.

  Coach was standing near a boy on the pitcher's mound, his head down. He re-arranged his cap backwards and forward on his head while the boy starred at him wide-eyed. It was a familiar look for Coach, the same thing he always did when he was pissed at the way I was throwing.

  I approached the dugout and leaned on the fence, grabbing the metal. A couple of the guys were standing around, watching the field.

  "Hey, what's going on out there?" I asked, nodding toward the mound.

  One of the guys glanced back at me, then pointed at the scared looking kid standing by Coach. "Brady's throwing for shit again at practice. He gets hot, then gets cocky, and it fucks the rest of us up."

  I smiled, shaking my head. "Yeah, I know how that goes."

  Coach would get on my ass all the time for getting cocky when I was in high school. He was the first person to really keep me in check, until Libby came around.

  I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Maybe having someone around like that wasn't always a bad thing. I hated it in high school, but seeing it from the other side, started to make sense. It may seem like they're riding your ass, but really they're making sure you don't fuck up.

  Coach looked toward the dugout, scanning it before his eyes locked mine and he motioned for me to come forward. I pointed at myself and looked around. Surely he didn't want me to go out there?

  Coach nodded and signaled me again.

  "Wait here one sec, baby," I said to Libby and then jogged out to the mound.

  "What's up, Coach?" I asked, standing next to him and trying to block the sun. It was dead center on the mound and I don't know how the pitcher was managing without wearing sunglasses, his hat couldn't have even been fully covering him.

  Coach put his hand on my shoulder. "Brady, this is Blaine Crabtree, the best pitcher Elsbury has ever seen. He'll tell you that you're getting too damn cocky and when you get cocky, you throw for shit."

  "Am I supposed to just repeat exactly what you said?" I asked.

  Brady laughed, then stopped when Coach gave him a stern look. "Not everyone can be an ace, son, but if you keep throwing brushbacks, I'm going to call in Frankie to take your place."

  Brady nodded. "I know, sir. I know."

  Coach patted my back. "Have a talk with him, son. I'm going to go grab a Gatorade."

  I watched Coach jog toward the dugout, then turned to Brady. "You know, he may be a hard ass, but he knows what he's talking about."

  Brady shook his head. "Yeah, I know. I'm just a little rusty. Haven't played since the spring."

  "Is that your problem, or is it because you forgot your sunglasses at home and you're too embarrassed to call your mom to bring them for you? I figure it's either that or you're waiting to get out of here to get laid by the little brunette in the stands who keeps giving you fuck-me-eyes. Maybe it's a combination of both?"

  Brady looked past me at the bleachers, where sure enough the little brunette waved at him and he nodded at her before looking back at me. "Okay, so maybe I'm not really into the game right now. I mean, come on, it's the fucking Fourth. What does it matter? It's not a real game."

  "What matters is that Coach looks at this game as his set up for the rest of the year. If you keep getting in a jam now, he's going to look at that for the next season and maybe call on one of the guys from the bench to come in."

  I put my hand on his shoulder and faced toward the bleachers, nodding toward the girl. "I know you don't want your girl to see you ride the bench all season, but don't get too cocky either. Find your sweet spot and settle in, then keep it there. Trust your catcher more than you trust your fucking girlfriend. If you stay in the zone and
stop focusing on everything else, then you'll keep your spot as starting pitcher. I guarantee it."

  He nodded. "Thanks, Crabtree. I appreciate it."

  I smiled, patting his shoulder. "And go see if you can borrow your girlfriend's sunglasses too."

  He laughed. "Yeah, I'll do that or see if one of the guys can loan me a pair."

  I nodded. "All right, man, good luck."

  I jogged back out to the fence, where Coach was standing next to Libby with his arms folded over his chest. "It's like I said, Libby, he's a natural."

  I turned over my shoulder to see Brady throw a pitch that was high and tight, much better than the bush leagues he was throwing when I first came up.

  I shrugged and turned back to Coach and Libby. "He just needed a little pick-me-up."

  "Yeah, and that pick me up could go a long way with our JV team that's hiring an assistant coach," Coach said.

  "Are you trying to say...?"

  Coach smiled and patted my shoulder. "Give me a call at the athletic department office on Monday, Blaine. I'll need to call you in for an interview, but it's just a formality."

  I rubbed the back of my neck. "I don't know, Coach. Work is awfully busy and I'm not really qualified. I don't have a degree or nothing."

  "Son, you're more than qualified. You know the game better than half the dumb fucks who walk into my office asking for the job."

  "I think you should do it, Blaine," Libby piped up.

  I raised my eyebrows at her and she bit down on her bottom lip. "It wouldn't be until the spring, so we'll have plenty of time to get things figured out. Just go for it."

  I'd thought about getting back into baseball for so long, but never thought of myself as a coach. Just having the two of them believe in me, meant a hell of a lot though.

  "All right, Coach. I'll give you a call."

  It was the biggest game of the season.

  The biggest game of my career in high school baseball.

  I should have been hyped up. I should have been giving my all and going in hot while the Ole Miss recruiter was watching.

  But I choked.

  More than once.

  It took Coach until the bottom of the fourth before he finally approached the mound and I knew my time was up.

  Lawrence LeBaron, the hotshot freshman, was already warming up to relieve me.

  Coach stepped up to the mound, looking down at the ground and shaking his head. "I don't need to tell you that you're playing like shit, Crabtree. Getting too hot?"

  "Yeah, sir. Sorry."

  Coach smirked. "I'm thinking it's less about you being hot and more about you hoping that you'll stay out of the eye of the recruiter sitting behind your little girlfriend."

  I shook my head fiercely. "No, Coach. I'm just too cocky. Go on and take me out and let Lawrence bring it home for the win."

  Coach put his hand on my shoulder. "Blaine, I've been coaching you for the past three years. I know when you're playing hot, when you're on a streak, and when you're throwing the game. This is throwing the game."

  "I'm sorry, Coach. I don't want to fuck up this game and ruin our chance for the play offs."

  "Look, I'm not pulling you off the mound. You're the best we have and you know it."

  "Not right now," I muttered.

  Coach glanced back at the dugout, then lifted his hat and turned toward me. "You aren't going to win me this game because you want to impress a recruiter or get laid by your cheerleader girlfriend. You're going to win this game because you're Blaine Crabtree; one of the best kids that's ever walked onto this field. You play with heart. You're fiercely loyal and honorable and I would trust you with anything, so I'm trusting you with this game for your team. Think you can do that?"

  I swallowed hard before nodding. "Yeah, coach, I can do that."

  ***

  Caimon didn't hit a single ball the rest of the game. By the time the lights went on the field, I was already jogging off the mound and wiping the sweat that was caked on my brow.

  Before I could reach for my water bottle, Julie was jumping into my arms and knocked it out of my reach.

  "That was awesome, Blaine! I was sitting right in front of the Ole Miss recruiter and I know he was impressed! He's probably going to offer you a spot right here and now!"

  I forced the biggest smile I could. "Yeah. I don't know if it works that way but it would be awesome."

  "Blaine Crabtree?" A deep Southern accent asked.

  Julie turned toward the guy with the baseball cap low over his eyes, then looked at me mouthing 'the recruiter'. "Call me when you leave, Blaine."

  She beamed at the recruiter before she swayed away.

  The guy moved forward and shook my hand. "Tom Slandry, Ole Miss."

  I nodded. "Hello, sir, it's good to meet you."

  "You played one hell of a game, son. I was worried there in the beginning, but you proved to be every bit the stud your coach said you would be."

  "Thank you, sir."

  This could have been my time to get cocky and brag that I was a shoe-in for all-parish as a junior but I just kept my mouth shut.

  "I see you haven't committed anywhere yet. Are you waiting until your senior year begins or are there other schools I should know about?"

  I shook my head. "No other schools, sir. I'm committed to working for the parish highway and roads department."

  The last words flew out if my mouth before I could take them back.

  Tom's eyes widened. "The road crew?"

  I swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

  "You know the road crew will still be there after school; that is, if the majors don't call."

  "I know, sir." I sighed, mustering up the courage to do what could be one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

  "I'm a small town boy. Always have been. Always will be. I like playing the game but it isn't my life. I know if I play in college, it'll take the joy out of it and it'll become my life. I'd rather keep it fun. Something I actually enjoy, rather than a job."

  Tom smiled, breaking his professional demeanor. "Well, that's not what I was expecting to hear when I approached you, but I can respect that."

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "But keep me in mind if the small town boy decides to take a trip to Oxford."

  I took the card knowing full well I'd never use it. Hell, I was surprise he still offered. "Thank you, sir."

  Chapter 7

  When we pulled up to Jackson's house, the smell of smoke from the grill wafted in the air. That, and fireworks were already going off in the back.

  He and Dina had a shack that was a few miles from our house, but he really bought it for the land. All ten acres of it that backed up to a creek.

  "I'm going to be the only one not drinking here and scarfing down bacon chocolate bars," Libby muttered, taking a bite of her third candy bar.

  I put my arm around her and kissed her forehead as we walked up to the house. "Naw, I'm sure it'll be pretty tame."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Is it ever tame here?"

  I laughed. "Hey, they try sometimes."

  She looped her arm around my waist. "You know, I did mean it about you applying for the assistant coach job."

  "I didn't say that you didn't."

  She looked up at me. Libby was tall for a girl. If she wore heels we were basically the same height. It was intimidating as hell at first, but as long as she was barefoot, and kept those long legs in my view, I was okay with it. "Blaine, I'm serious. If you want to work on the road crew forever like Jackson and your dad, that's fine. But if you want to do something else, something I know you really enjoy, then you should do it."

  "But what about you? Hell, Libby, we've got a shit ton going on in our lives."

  She smiled. "I'll be done with school in a few years and if you want to go back and get a coaching certificate or even a teaching degree, then I'll support it. I'll get a better job in New Orleans and we can apply for every student loan out there."

  I hadn't even though
t that far ahead. My life was always planned out for me: play baseball in high school, start working on the road crew after I graduated, get married, retire at sixty. I never thought about veering off that plan. Hell, I had recruiters for college ball and I didn't even give them a second look. But maybe now it was time. Maybe having someone that pushed me for it meant something.

  "Yeah, I think maybe we can talk about doing that. Let's take one step at a time and see if I get the job first."

  She leaned in and kissed me hard on the mouth. "You will."

  I pulled her closer, my fingers trailing down to her waist as I wrapped my arms around her. "When did you get so sure of yourself?"

  She pressed her body against mine and instantly my dick responded, stiffening against her. "I don't know. Maybe it was watching you out there on the field. You're kind of a natural at everything. Baseball. Guitar. It's like you have magic hands."

  I moved my hands down to her butt, cupping it lightly. "Yeah?"

  "Get a room you two! We don't need to see y'all making another baby!" Butch Sinclair yelled from around the corner.

  I let go of Libby and turned to see him standing there, his pale ass wearing nothing but a pair of plaid shorts. The Confederate flag tattoo on his chest was on full display as he chugged a beer.

  "Yeah, yeah, don't get too jealous, Butch." I put my arm back around Libby and guided her around the house.

  "Hey, if your girl ever gets tired of you, I'm sure I could get down with a pregnant woman." He laughed, which showed that he wasn't exactly playing with all of his teeth.

  "In your dreams, Sinclair," Libby said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

  I grinned at Butch's shocked expression as we rounded the corner to the packed backyard. People stood around the cement patio where Jackson had recently built a tin roof to help block out some of the Louisiana sun. Spanish moss trees did the rest of the work, lining almost the entire yard that led up to the creek. Dina stood behind a makeshift pallet bar that was set up between two trees and waved Libby over.

  "Mind if I leave you for a while? I'm sure that Dina is hiding the good snacks back there for me." Libby raised her eyebrows.