by L A Cotton
“You should come play ball. It’ll relieve some of the stress.”
“How do you know I’m stressed?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I can just tell. The way you’re holding your head, the tension in your shoulders.” His eyes roamed down my body and my insides quivered. “You’re even dressed for it.” His eyes lingered a little too long over chest, and my cheeks started to flush. “Umm, I don’t think so. I don’t play sports.”
“What? Ever? Come on, it’ll help, and you might even have fun.”
Before I could respond, I noticed most of the boys had stopped their activities, and directed their attention on us. “Come on, Miss M. Show us what you got,” Jared called, followed by a dozen other voices calling me out to the field.
Keefer smiled and I wavered. How hard could it be?
“Fine. But I’m really not lying when I say I have no clue about baseball.”
“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”
I followed him down to the field and some of the boys cheered. I felt ridiculous, but something told me Keefer wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.
“Okay, guys, gather in. Now, seeing as Miss Macer decided to grace us with her presence, we need to make it count, right? So split up, Kenny’s team bats, my team in the field. Miss Macer, if you’d like to head to the batter’s box. I’ll be over in a second.”
My feet moved reluctantly to the box. Otis was catcher and Keylon stood on the pitcher’s mound smirking at me. Keefer organized the rest of the teams before handing me a bat.
“I seriously hope that you’re not expecting me to hit anything?” I wasn’t joking.
He maneuvered me into the box, and my breath caught when his hand brushed my waist. Keefer Smith was touching me…and it felt good. Too good. What in the hell is wrong with me? He rotated me until I stood in line with Keylon. My hands gripped the bat tightly and nervous energy vibrated through me, conscious of the seventeen sets of eyes watching me.
Keefer stood to the side of me. “Right, you want to grip the bat with both hands. Draw back your back arm and adopt a wide stance.”
I listened carefully and then tried to copy his position. He moved to stand in front of me, readjusting my arm, which was already growing tired from holding the bat, and told me to move my feet wider. Then he walked around me and moved behind me; towering over me as he lifted my arm higher. He leaned down over me, his breath tickling my ear. “Now you want to hit the ball, if you can, and then run as fast as you can to first base.” He pointed toward Kai, who was standing by a small white mound planted on the ground.
My heart raced at his close proximity. He was all around me, his tall frame, his smell. Already feeling embarrassed at the whole situation, I tried to concentrate on Keylon and not on Keefer’s chest brushing my shoulder.
“Okay, Keylon. When you’re ready.”
Keefer moved away and I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaky hands. The pressure was immense. My rep among the kids was on the line, and I didn’t want to end up looking totally lame. I watched as Keylon drew his arm and knee up and launched the ball in my direction. I swung the bat out, just missing the ball by a fraction. The sound of it hitting Otis’s glove reverberated in my ear.
“Strike one.”
I silently cursed and reset myself, ready for the next ball. This time I tracked the projection as it left Keylon’s hand. The cracking sound startled me, the bat sending the ball flying past Reece on second base. The adrenaline flowed through me, and I was so excited at having hit the ball that I almost forgot to run.
“Run Miss M, RUN,” a voice shouted, urging me into action.
I sprinted toward the first base, hoping to avoid a collision with Keylon. He jumped out of the way as my foot landed on the base. I doubled over, trying to catch my breath. When I finally righted myself, I earned a round of applause from the boys. As my eyes found Keefer’s, his face broke out in a smile I couldn’t help but return. He was right. I felt much better.
~
“Thank you for persuading me to play.” I handed Keefer the last mitt and turned to grab my bag.
“No worries. I told you it’d help. It did, right? I mean, help?” He looked down at me, his blue eyes burning into me.
“Yes. Headache free.” I knocked my head gently and smiled.
“You did well. The boys were impressed.”
“Just the boys?” The words left my mouth before I had time to stop them and I cringed. It was bordering on flirting, which was crazy. It was Keefer Smith, for Pete’s sake.
“Not just them. I was very impressed.” His eyes wandered down my body again and I involuntarily shuddered.
“So, I have a game organized for the boys. Not next week, but the week after. Another team I know has been looking for competitors, and I thought we could take the group? It’ll just be a friendly game, no pressure. Do you think you could arrange that?”
He wanted to take the boys off campus? No one mentioned my babysitting gig would include field trips. “Umm, I’d have to check with the principal; it’ll require consent and planning.”
“I know the drill. It’d be good for them to play another team. See what you can do. We can use the program’s minibus.”
“Okay, I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”
“I’ve got to head out. So, I’ll see you next week.” He climbed into his truck and I made my way to my car. The buzz from playing with the boys and flirting with Keefer was slowly replaced by a sinking feeling as I thought of returning home to Dad and my broken family.
Chapter 6
~ Keefer ~
I pushed open the door to the apartment and hooked the keys on the notice board. I needed a cold shower. Sharn had looked so cute in her pink velour hoodie and black gym pants that I couldn’t get the image out of my head the whole drive home. I hadn’t intended on getting so close to her, but she drew me in. At six-foot-one, I towered over her tiny stature, and I'd wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in my arms and kiss her. Fuck. I was losing my mind—over a chick. Over Sharn Macer, no less. It was crazy!
Although I’d grown out of my shell since high school, I was still the silent brooding type when it came to girls. Some loved it, thought it made me mysterious or some shit, but others avoided me. Treated me like I was a creeper. Truth was Mom had left a hole in my life. I never had anyone to talk to as a teenager. Gran and Pops both passed the year before Mom, and she’d been an only child. I had some aunts and uncles on Dad’s side, but they lived on the West Coast, so we didn’t see them often. It was just Dad and me. Most kids learn the way of the world from their parents. I learned from books and films, and then when I was a little older, I watched. I watched my friends, the kids at school, and the adults on my block. When you spend so much time watching, you don’t have much need to talk. I'd had a solid group of friends back then, especially Ethan Shaw. We were tight, like brothers. But he'd had a rough time growing up, too. We rarely talked about our lives; we just kind of learned what the other needed. He was still in Gainesville, but we didn’t hook up much nowadays—our lives just kind of went in different directions. Now I had Zac, but it wasn’t the same.
My cell started vibrating and the opening notes of Bastille’s “Pompeii” played out. I hit answer. “Zac, what up?”
“Just checking in. How’d it go? You know, at the school?” I could hear the smirk in his voice.
“Good.”
“Come on, you can do better than that. It’s me you’re talking to.”
I laughed. He knew me too well. “She was killing me, man. Turned up in tight little gym pants and a pink hoodie that left nothing to the imagination.”
“Niiiice. So what’d you do about it?”
I choked, spluttering out, “Dude, I was on the field with seventeen ninth graders, what do you think I did about it?”
“I meant after the session, douche! Did you ask for her number?”
“No. I told you, man, I’m not going there. She’s hot, and I like her, but m
y life’s too complicated. I don’t need to be putting my shit onto someone like her.”
“You can’t spend your whole life putting him first. You deserve more. You’ve got your own place now. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
“Yeah, whatever, man. Listen, I gotta go, got to go see him then head back to the office.”
“Okay, catch you tomorrow.”
I threw the phone onto the small kitchen table, ripped off my cap, and jammed my fingers into my damp hair. Zac didn’t get it. He had a family who supported his every decision. He didn’t have to worry about finding his next rent check, or dread finding his dad in a pool of his own puke—or worse, dead. How could I possibly bring someone like Sharn into that shit? She was too good for me. Too good for my situation. She was better off without me.
~
I pulled up alongside Coach’s black Jeep and grabbed my small rucksack. He’d asked me to meet him after the session at GHS, but I wanted to get cleaned up first, so I’d gone back to the apartment. The authority in his voice cut through the air as I pushed open the glass door. “Smith, that you?”
“Yes, Sir.” I moved to the chair opposite the big gray desk he was sitting at, and he nodded. “Take a seat.”
I dropped into the black leather chair and placed the rucksack by my feet.
“I wanted to talk to you about your father. I know it’s probably not my place, but I’m concerned about you, son. From what I gather, he’s getting worse. Maybe it’s time you considered another facility. Get him some support?”
“Sir, I know you care, but with all due respect, it is none of your business.” Anger flared through my veins, and I felt ready to explode. Grabbing the bag, I hoisted it over my shoulder and headed toward the door of the small office.
“Keefer, son, I didn’t-”
I didn’t wait around to hear the rest of his words. I thundered out to the parking lot, slamming my fist onto the roof of my truck. Taking three deep breaths, I demanded myself to calm down. It’d been years since I let my temper get the better of me. I wasn’t angry with Coach, I was angry at my life—the fucking Universe. I was angry with Mom for leaving us, angry with Dad for falling apart, and most of all, I was angry with myself. Angry that I was too weak to do what needed to be done. Deep down, I was still the ten-year-old boy who just wanted his dad to love him, to be there for him. I slammed my fist down again. Fuck.
I gunned the engine and roared onto the high street. My body needed to let off some steam, and there was only one place to do it. Usually, I’d head straight for the field, but I needed something else. Something I hadn’t needed in a long time.
Pulling up outside Big Joe’s Gym, my eyes observed the rundown sign and battered door. After I had graduated high school, I went through an angry spell. Some guys at college were into boxing and suggested I give it a try. Joe’s became my regular hangout. I still played ball whenever I could, but I had a lot of rage inside that needed a release. Boxing did that. I never competed, only trained, and occasionally sparred.
I shoved my bag into one of the rusty lockers just as a familiar voice called out from behind me. “Well, if it isn’t Keefer Smith. Long time, no see.”
Joe wasn’t actually a big guy, but he had a look about him that let you know he wasn’t to be messed with. He’d aged a lot in three years. His once dark brown hair was now peppered with gray, and the lines around his eyes were deeper.
“Hey Joe, wondered if I could borrow some gloves and a bag?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s eating you, kid?”
I shrugged, dropping my eyes to the floor.
“That bad, huh? Gloves are in the bin in the corner; take your pick. The bags are free.” He threw some knuckle tape at me, and I started to wrap my fingers. Once they were secure, I pulled off my Yankee’s cap and gray hoodie and dumped them on the bench.
Once inside the worn down gym, I walked to the first available bag and started tapping it lightly. Right, right, left, right, right, left. I bounced on the balls of my feet at a steady pace. Each punch became harder and faster until I started to feel pain shooting through my knuckles with each blow. It wasn’t enough. Beads of sweat dripped from my hairline and ran down my cheeks as I pounded the bag into oblivion. My breathing grew erratic and my heart beat furiously in my chest. With a final jab, I screamed out in frustration. The bag steadied as I dropped to the floor to give myself time to recoup, drinking down the water bottle in one gulp. Adrenaline pumped through me and I focused on the feeling, letting it spread through me to douse the fire.
“That bag’s seen better days, but I think you just finished it off.”
I pushed myself upon on my elbows, bringing my face up to see Joe staring down at me with a stick of licorice hanging from the side of his mouth.
“I should've put you in the ring,” he muttered to himself, and I shook my head. Fighting wasn't my thing. I just needed the adrenaline rush—the release. It calmed me.
“Thanks. What do I owe you?”
Joe waved a hand. “Anytime, kid, any damn time.”
I picked myself up off the floor and headed for the locker room. My control was back, but I needed to make a phone call.
Coach answered on the second ring. He waited for me to speak. “Listen, Coach, I'm sorry. My behavior was uncalled for.”
“Son, don't you apologize to this old fool. I should've kept my damn trap shut. I just don't want to see you wasting your life.”
“I know, Sir. And I appreciate everything you've done for me. But I need to handle this my way.”
We had hung up before the conversation drifted into uncomfortable territory. I was glad Coach had my back, but Dad was my problem.
~
Zac slammed two beers down on the table and I lifted my chin in thanks. He'd persuaded me to come to Durty's, but I wasn't feeling the drunken crowds, so we holed up in a booth at the back of the room. “What’s up, man? You look ready to kill.”
I shrugged. “Just got some stuff going on.”
I'd avoided Dad since Tuesday. Mrs. Elms had checked in on him every day and called to let me know he was okay. My anger had subsided, but I still wasn't ready to see him.
“You can talk to me. I'm a pretty good listener, ya know.”
I flicked a piece of the beer mat at him. “Dude, you're starting to freak me out with all this heart to heart shit.”
He laughed and we settled back to people watch. After a while, I offered to get some more beers and headed to the bar, wedging myself between a group of suited and booted dudes. Fridays always drew in the young professionals; out to burn off some steam after a hard week working over figures and finances or some shit. They were having pissing contests over who was getting the biggest bonus at the end of the month. I wasn't paying much attention to them drone on. My life was nothing like those schmucks.
“You should have seen how hot she was. I almost banged her right there and then in the back of the BMW.”
“From what Todd's been saying about her, she'd have been good for it. He said she was always up for it in high school, if you get what I'm saying.”
“Deac, do you know how many guys wanted a piece of that ass back in high school? And you, lucky bastard, get to wine, dine, and then fuck her.” Gray suit slapped the back of a guy in a pinstriped black suit, his collar popped, and black hair slicked into a faux hawk.
“Well, I haven't sealed the deal, yet. But guarantee I'll tame Sharn Macer.”
My head whipped up and my jaw clenched. They were talking about Sharn—like she was some kind of prize to be won. I saw red. Before I could stop myself, I pushed through the group and sent my fist flying into pretty boy’s face.
“What the fuck?” He let out a pained grunt as the crack sent his head snapping back. Arms pulled me back, and I struggled against them, anger rippling off me in waves.
“What the fuck is your problem, dude?” Pretty boy rubbed a hand over his jaw and stalked toward me. I braced myself for payback, but before he had a chan
ce to deliver, Zac and Morris stepped between us. Totally ignoring the pack of wolves ready to jump, they apologized for my behavior and dragged me away from the five guys tracking our exit.
“Not cool. Are you trying to get us all barred?” Morris scowled.
“Just one thing, did he deserve it?” Zac raised an eyebrow. He knew I'd never hit someone without good reason, and I smirked as we headed out of the door and onto the sidewalk.
“You gotta tell us, man. We just saved your ass.” Morris looked at me like a dog wagging his tail for a treat.
“Trust me, you wouldn't believe me if I told you.”
Zac’s eye lit up with the realization. “Oh, no you didn't.”
“Didn't what?” Morris looked between us; clearly pissed he wasn't in on whatever just happened. “Come on, Keef. You gotta tell me.”
“Let's just say he was defending someone's honor.” Zac winked at me and Morris rolled his eyes at me. “I'll never figure you out, Smith.”
“When did you get here anyway?” I asked Morris.
“Yeah, nice to see you too, bro. Just arrived in time to see your fist fly at that guy’s face.”
As we walked to find a cab, I could still feel the prickle of anger eating at me. As soon as I'd realized they were talking about Sharn, I'd gone into full hulk mode. Pretty boy was lucky I only got in one punch before his friends dragged me back. Fuck. Sharn had gotten under my skin, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
~
My whole body hummed with anticipation. It had me feeling uneasy. I was nervous. Nervous about seeing Sharn. It was fucking ridiculous and one of the reasons I didn’t let people in. Let people in and you started to feel—a luxury I couldn’t afford. I checked my watch—ten minutes until the bell. I’d arrived early to try to gain control of myself before Sharn and the boys arrived. After a weekend of keeping myself distracted, I spent Monday with Coach going over budgets and plans for the program, and I'd managed to push thoughts of Sharn out of my head. But now my hands were clammy and my heart was beating so fast I felt sick.