Base Ball Dads
Page 21
“Any luck so far? From what I understand, these are some very wealthy and powerful people that have gone missing.”
“Not all of them were rich and powerful. One of them worked at Walmart.”
Quack. Quack. Quack.
“Walmart? Jesus, that’s awful.”
“Indeed it is. As if life hadn’t been cruel enough for the poor guy, he had to go and get abducted by sociopaths.”
“That’s inhumane. They could’ve at least taken someone from a Super Target. But Walmart? These people must be twisted. That’s just uncalled for.”
“Salt on the wound, without question.”
Dwayne looked at his texts. It was just as he thought. Steve was freaking out.
STEVE:
BRIEFCASE! BRIEFCASE!
DAVE:
I dont unnerstand wht that meens.
STEVE:
Turn on your TV, numbnuts! They found your van!
DAVE:
Waz their a breefcase in it?
RUSS:
Dave, please go into the “settings” section of your phone, click on “texting,” and then hit “spellcheck on.” Please do this before I go slam my goddamn head in the door.
STEVE:
I told you guys you’d gone too far!
DAVE:
Wheres sittings?
RUSS:
Settings! Fuck!
DWAYNE:
Calm down, Steve. We’re fine.
TOMMY:
Dave, did you get the license plates and VIN numbers off the van? Is there any way to trace it back to you?
STEVE:
Dave?
DWAYNE:
Dave?
TOMMY:
Dave?
RUSS:
You know we have to kill Dave now, right?
DAVE:
I cant figur out settings thing, Russ.
STEVE:
No more killing!
DAVE:
Wait whut?
STEVE:
No more killing! I’m serious!
DWAYNE:
Did you burn the van, Dave? Is it untraceable? The cops found it. And the old lady.
DAVE:
Done, bro. Both totally crispy. No worries.
DWAYNE:
See there, Steve? We’re cool. You guys excited about the game tonight?
STEVE:
Oh, you mean the game on the field where you just buried a half dozen people? That game?
DWAYNE:
Yup. You pumped?
TOMMY:
I’m pumped.
RUSS:
Well fuck yeah, Captain. We’re gonna destroy them.
DAVE:
Im pimped.
TOMMY:
?
RUSS:
Idiot.
DAVE:
Fcuk you.
RUSS:
This is killing me. Please stop inviting Dave on these text chains.
STEVE:
And me.
DWAYNE:
Okay. Game at 6. See you at the cages at 5. Playing Reese Pepper’s daddy baseball team. It’ll be a bloodbath.
STEVE:
I’m assuming Reese won’t be there, due to being dead.
DWAYNE:
He’ll be under 2nd base if you need him.
TOMMY:
LOL.
Dwayne walked into the kitchen after he finished getting dressed for a day of ass kicking at work. He gave Estelle a big kiss and a smile.
“Is everything okay, babe?” she whispered in his ear.
“No worries, hon,” he replied. He slapped her on the ass and walked over to the table where Alex was seated.
“Time to go brush your teeth, buddy,” Dwayne said, punching Alex softly on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you out front at the truck.”
Alex stood up and hugged his dad, then headed off to finish getting ready. Dwayne shoved a piece of toast in his mouth, then grabbed his bag and headed out the door to his truck.
When Dwayne opened his truck, he saw another envelope resting on his seat. He didn’t like these envelopes. He was quite certain that he would kill whoever had been leaving them.
This time, the anonymous person left a message written in black marker. “Your whole life is a lie … quit while you’re ahead.”
Dwayne opened up the envelope. It was more of the same—photos of Estelle posing nude, doing things he wished he’d never seen. The men’s faces were always cut off, unidentifiable. But this time, Dwayne caught a new detail … something he hadn’t seen before. These photos had dates on them. They were barely two months old.
Blind rage flooded over him. Dwayne understood that the photos were taken before his reconciliation with Estelle but still … these dates were so close. He gripped the side of the door tightly as he remained standing beside his truck.
Then he noticed something else.
One of the naked guys in the background appeared to be black. Or was it the lighting? He couldn’t tell. Logically, Dwayne knew the guy could’ve been anyone. Unless he was black, that is. He knew only one black guy.
Dwayne told himself that there was absolutely no way that Tommy would ever do such a thing to him. He decided not to think about anyone in the picture, especially Estelle. Things were different now. He pulled himself together and slid the envelope into his pocket just as Alex came through the door.
49.
Dwayne sat in his office, trying not to think about the latest batch of photos. Who was leaving them? What did they want? How much did they know? Whoever it was obviously knew too much.
He peeked inside the envelope again and then threw it in the garbage can. There was a baseball game to prepare for. Those pictures were taken in a previous life, before he had been anointed into the Jedi Alliance. They didn’t reflect the world as it now stood.
The office phone buzzed, shaking him out of Estelle’s photo shoot at the orgy. Dwayne’s secretary was on the line.
“Dwayne,” she said in her nasal tone, “there’s a Detective Loffland with the Fort Worth Police Department here to talk to you.”
“Send him up.”
Dwayne supposed he should’ve been nervous, especially considering the fact that he had two black eyes from the fundraiser fight. He knew that most people in his situation would be freaking out. But Dwayne was cool as a cucumber.
A few seconds later, there was a knock at his office door.
“Come in!” he shouted.
The office door opened, and in walked Detective Loffland. Dwayne thought he looked smaller on television. The detective wasn’t tall; he was just built like a brick shithouse. He stood about 5 feet 11 inches tall and probably weighed 230 pounds. He was solid muscle. His head was shaved bald and shiny, and he had a short white goatee. He couldn’t have been more than forty years old.
The two men shook hands, and Dwayne offered the detective a seat.
“I’m sure you know why I’m here, Mr. Devero,” Detective Loffland said firmly.
“Lots of people going missing in my neck of the woods,” Dwayne responded. “I’m glad you’re on top of it.”
Dwayne figured that the detective was probably a pretty good dude, based on the way he carried himself. He didn’t appear to throw his power around.
“You mind if I ask what happened to your face, Mr. Devero?”
“Not at all, sir. I’ve had issues with my sinuses since I was a kid. Dr. Tom Johnson fixed it for me a few days ago. He had to break the bone in my nose to access my sinus cavity. It caused bruising under my eyes and made me look like I was dating an R&B singer.”
The detective nodded approvingly at Dwayne’s answer. Dwayne smiled back, satisfied that he’d created such a believable bullshit story on the fly.
“What was your relationship with the deceased, Mr. Ricky Dale?” the detective asked.
“He coached my son’s baseball team.”
“And Pete Rearden?”
“He stepped in to coach after Ricky Dale died.”
“No sir. They were … ummm … Can I speak freely, sir?”
Detective Loffland smiled. “Please do. I’ve had enough of these pretentious douchebags trying to fake sincerity about all of this shit.”
Yup. Dwayne definitely liked this guy.
“They were cocksuckers, sir. I couldn’t stand them. The same goes for all of the missing people. They were shitty human beings. I can’t begin to imagine how long the list must be of people that would like to see them dead.”
“But you didn’t want to see them dead, right?”
“It wouldn’t be my first choice, Detective, but I can honestly say I haven’t lost any sleep over it.”
Dwayne was happy with his answer. It wasn’t technically a lie. His first choice would have been that they not be assholes to begin with.
“Mr. Devero, I’ve had a few people tell me that you’ve been acting odd lately. Do you care to comment on that?”
“Sure, I’ll comment on that. I’ve stood up to parents recently who don’t respect the game of baseball. They want to have an ‘everybody is a winner’ mentality, and play ‘daddy baseball.’ I think it’s important to teach kids how to play the game. I think it’s important that they want to win. There are plenty of entitled little pussies out there, Detective. This town is full of them. I think we should raise our kids to actually accomplish things, and I started teaching that lesson on the baseball diamond when the coaching spots were vacated. Somebody had to step in. I did. But I did it my way, not the loser way.”
The detective nodded his head. He liked Dwayne. He couldn’t stand all of the entitled little pussies in town either. He could tell right away that Dwayne had earned every penny he had. He admired that.
“Oh, also,” Dwayne continued, “I recently had some heated phone calls with some past-due accounts here at work. These were guys who had plenty of money, and they were looking for loopholes to get out of paying me for work I had completed. They fuck people over all the time, if I may speak bluntly. I simply held them accountable. They inherited most of their money and screwed people over for more. I earned mine.”
Detective Loffland chuckled. “What about your buddies, Mr. Devero? What about Russ Paisley, Dr. Tommy Johnson, and Steve Winwood? That’s a great name, by the way. But tell me about your friends, please.”
“Well, to be honest, we can be a bit rowdy when we drink. We’ve been known to party, sir. Especially Russ. He’s a lunatic. But we’re good guys, detective. You’ll see that when you speak to them. We just like to have a good time.”
Again, Dwayne felt good about his answer. He didn’t say that they didn’t murder people. It wasn’t necessary. He simply told it like it was, with no bullshit. The detective obviously appreciated the approach.
“I don’t think I’ll need to talk to your buddies,” the detective said as he rose to his feet. “Between you and me, those fuckers that got killed and went missing probably got what was coming to them. I’m just glad I got to interview someone who seems sincere. And I’d like to thank you for not raising pussies. Nobody should be allowed to fuck with baseball.”
“Amen, Detective.”
“You take care of yourself, Mr. Devero. And if you see anything suspicious, please give me a call.”
The two men shook hands again by the door. It was a good, solid, tight-gripping handshake that only honest men give.
50.
The entire team showed up on time for batting practice and warm-ups that afternoon before the game. All of the coaches were at least fifteen minutes early. They were ready to play ball.
Jade had gotten shirts made for the coaches. She felt it was important for them to match perfectly. The shirts were slim cut and made to fit snug. They were bright orange, with “Tigers” written in black and silver sequins.
“Wow, Jade, you really went out of your way,” Dwayne said as Jade handed out the shirts.
“Really amazing craftsmanship, Jade,” Tommy stated, looking awkwardly at the others.
“Thanks, sweetie,” she replied with a wink to Tommy. “The people who used to make my outfits at The Cabaret made them. They have the best sequins. They never fall off and wind up stuck in your vagina or anything.”
Jade waited for the men to put on their shirts. They looked back at her with blank faces.
“Come on, guys, the game’s about to start. Put them on!”
Steve glanced sideways at the others. Dwayne shrugged and pulled his shirt off. Tommy, Russ, and Steve followed suit.
Russ struggled to pull his shirt over his furry gut. He was frustrated with the slender cut. He was even more frustrated by the extra attention Jade had been giving to Tommy.
Steve pulled his shirt on and tucked it into his tiny gray coach’s shorts. He seemed pleased with it and smiled at the others through his dorky spectacles. Dwayne could not have cared less. He was far too focused on winning. All that mattered to him was that they matched. He pulled the shirt on and sparked up a small joint, then passed it to the others.
While Tommy was pulling his sparkly new shirt over his head, Jade reached over and pinched his nipple and grinned. He grinned back, knowing full well that it was driving Russ insane.
She then turned and walked back toward the stands, glancing back at Tommy a couple of times along the way.
“Are you going to tell me what in God’s name happened after the fundraiser?” Russ demanded. “Why the fuck is she calling you sweetie? And why did she just tweak your goddamn nipple?”
Tommy just smiled and walked toward the dugout with Dwayne and Steve.
“Keep her off that soul pole, Tommy!” Russ yelled as they walked away. “Not cool at all!”
Dave the umpire was behind home plate watching Alex warm up, pitching with Russ’s son, Jackson, at catcher. He called for the head coaches to come meet him by the backstop to discuss the rules for the playoffs.
Gray Smith trudged out of the opposing team’s dugout to shake Dwayne’s hand.
“Sorry, guys,” he apologized. “Reese went missing. You probably heard. Jesus, I don’t know what’s going on around here lately. Anyhow, I’m filling in.”
Gray was a spineless nerd. He was tall and skinny with bright red hair, freckles, and fair skin. He had no business coaching baseball. He had most likely never even held a baseball. When they shook, Dwayne gripped Gray’s hand extra firmly, and gave him a look that said I own you. Gray looked nervous as hell.
“Okay, men,” Dave the umpire said. “Playoffs rules are a bit different. We go six innings, no matter how long it takes. No time limit, and no run limit. Dwayne, you’re the home team. Gray, you guys bat first, so get your sticks and let’s roll. Play ball!”
Dwayne patted his assistant coaches on the back. “This is what it’s all about, guys,” he said. “This is what all of the hard work has been for. Let’s have smart coaching today. It’s fucking playoffs time.”
Gray Smith assumed his position as first-base coach for his batters. He stood roughly fifteen feet from Dwayne’s dugout.
“Good luck today, guys,” Gray nervously offered.
“Fuck you, Ginger,” Russ said back. “We’re about to rape your dreams. Eat a dick.”
Gray looked startled and turned away. Steve hung his head and put his hand over his face.
“Russ, why do you have to be such an asshole?” Steve snapped. “He was just being friendly.”
“Kiss my ass, you Obama-loving liberal.” Russ stated flatly to Russ while still staring at Gray. “Get your game face on.”
“We’re going to dance all over these guys,” Tommy threw in. “Just like Jade on my big brown ding-a-ling.”
Russ scowled at Tommy and shoved a fistful of sunflower seeds in his mouth. Steve smiled.
Just as Dwayne predicted, the game turned into a blowout. The late Reese Pepper’s team was massacred, just another example of what happens when daddy baseball meets a winning strategy.
Alex pitched f
or the first three innings, before Dwayne pulled him so that he would be available to pitch the following game. As long as a pitcher stayed under thirty pitches, they could pitch back-to-back games. This was done so as not to do any long-term damage to kids’ arms.
He struck out six batters in the first three innings, and the other three got a small piece of his curveball, just as he intended, and were thrown out at first base. Tommy’s son, TJ, pitched the fourth and fifth innings, and Russ’s son, Jackson, came in to close in the sixth. They each pitched exceptionally well.
The only thing that rivaled the talent at the pitcher’s mound was the batting. The boys brought the wood and exposed the major weaknesses in putting talentless kids in field positions that require talent.
Alex hit two balls over the fence. Jackson and TJ each had inside-the-park home runs. Steve’s son, Jonathan, got his first-ever triple off a well-placed bunt and infield errors. Even Ricky Dale’s and Pete Rearden’s sons managed to score. It was every bit the victory Dwayne had predicted.
The final score was 27–0.
The losing team slumped into the consoling arms of their parents. Dwayne called for his team to meet him in the outfield and take a knee. They crowded around him in excitement, slapping each other’s backs, reveling in the win. Moms and dads lined up behind them, proud.
Dwayne stood to address his team. His three assistants lined up beside him, arms crossed, sunglasses on, looking not too dissimilar from horribly dressed secret service agents.
“Well, Tigers, we did it again,” Dwayne stated firmly to the kids.
Cheers erupted. Dwayne allowed them to hoot and holler for a moment before raising his hand for silence.
“I want you to know that I don’t feel like I’ve done my job as a coach,” he continued, “unless the kids on the other team cry themselves to sleep after meeting you.”
The parents looked moderately dismayed. The kids broke into another round of wild cheers.
“You have destroyed their dinner … their evening … their week … their month. You have forced them to question what they are capable of in life. You have chewed up their spirits and spit them back in their faces. You have snuffed out the light of joy in their young lives with your fielding and beat their souls into oblivion with your bats. And for this, I commend you.”