by Jordan Ford
HOLDEN
It’s the first Monday back after Christmas break.
The beginning of the end.
The home stretch to graduation.
I can do this.
I want to do this.
School’s not so bad. Watching the hotties strut through the cafeteria at lunchtime, hanging out with my friends, working out at the gym, playing ball…it’s pretty cool. And okay, I like learning too, but only because I want to get into a good college and get the hell out of here.
And today will be especially good because baseball practices start up again.
Man, I’m pumped for this season. Tryouts were just before the Christmas break and all the regulars made it back on the team. It’d be great to have a few extra players, but we’re a small school and at least I get to play with guys I like. There’s no one on the team who’s better than me and there’s no one I don’t like. My best buddy and I are the pitching/catching duo. We’ve been playing together since I moved to Armitage a few years back.
Luke made the transition as smooth as glass. Fitting in with his crowd was a cinch, and I soon became the most popular guy at school. It helped that my father was elected mayor in our second year. The town really loves him and all he’s doing to clean up this shithole.
Clenching my jaw, I gaze at my reflection while I brush my hair. I look a lot like my older brothers—dark hair, defined nose, blue eyes. It’s a pretty good combo if you want to see some action. None of us has ever had trouble scoring with the ladies.
My brothers don’t live at home anymore. Gabe’s in his senior year at Stanford and Dorian lives with his girlfriend in New York. I don’t miss them so much. It’s kind of nice having the house to myself.
Dad’s hardly around, and Mom’s…
I drop my comb on the counter and sniff, not really wanting to think about what Mom is.
Pulling back my shoulders, I test out my best smirk.
No wonder the girls come flocking.
I wink at my cocky ass and chuckle, leaving the bathroom with a bounce in my step.
At the New Year’s Eve party, Luke and I decided we were going to make the last six months at Armitage High freaking awesome. Luke’s been having a rough time since his dad bailed on them about a year and a half ago. It’s been pretty hard, and I’ve been doing my best to cheer him up. As he sat on the couch nursing his beer, he mumbled, “I gotta make this year better, man. I don’t want life to be shit anymore.”
I slapped him on the shoulder and promised I wouldn’t let him down.
“We’ll fly through to graduation. Parties, girls, baseball—it’s all we need.”
Luke grinned at me and we clinked our bottles together.
I’m determined to help my friend out. He did so much for me when I first got here. It could have been hell, but he let me into his popular world and school has been a breeze. We’ve been tight from day one, which is why I tried to persuade him to apply to the same colleges as me.
He still hasn’t committed, probably because he thinks he’s not smart enough to go to college…or his stupid-ass dad won’t front the money.
He did buy him this sick Jeep for Christmas, though. Yeah, it was no doubt a bribe to win his son’s favor. It didn’t work, of course, but Luke kept the Jeep anyway.
On my birthday, Dad gave me his Mustang convertible. It’s an older model, but like I’m gonna complain. That red beast has done me nothing but favors.
With our sick cars, our good looks, and our skills on the field, Luke and I are the kings of the school this year. Yeah, it may sound cocky, but it’s not a bad way to spend the final days of high school.
I jog down the stairs and into the dining room. Mom is sitting there with her morning coffee. She’s looking kind of glassy-eyed but she’s talking to Dad, so at least she’s coherent this morning.
“Hey, family,” I mumble, pouring myself a coffee and adding a healthy sprinkling of sugar.
“Morning, son.” Dad’s grin is especially wide this morning.
He’s been kind of tense over the last year. I understand why. Looking after a town like Armitage can’t be an easy task, especially with the shit that went down twelve months ago.
I tap my teaspoon on my mug and reach for a piece of toast.
It’s not charcoal this morning, which is a nice change. I shoot Mom a grateful smile and she grins back, looking damn triumphant considering all she did was not burn the toast for once.
Dad finishes tapping on his phone screen and then slides it into his pocket.
“I’m going to swing by at lunchtime and give them a personal welcome.”
“Who?” I glance up from buttering my toast.
Dad sips his coffee before answering. “The Barlow family. Reece Barlow is our new chief of police. He’s going to help me clean up this town. Armitage is going to become the diamond of California once more.”
I try not to roll my eyes. I am so over that slogan.
Bobbing my head, I take a bite of my toast while Dad keeps talking.
“Reece has always been a good guy. It was providence that we bumped into each other. The town council has been looking for someone ever since Tannon left. Barlow will be the perfect replacement.”
I’ve heard this story already but don’t bothering interrupting. It’s nice seeing him in a good mood for a change. I don’t want to jinx it.
“… I’m hoping the man will work some magic and we can bring the crime rate down, clean up the streets in the northwest a little more.” Dad sips his coffee and mumbles, “Drive those Mancini bastards right out of town.”
Mom smiles while popping a pill in her mouth. I watch her carefully, wondering what she’s taking. I try to monitor her intake closely and sneak into her bathroom and the kitchen each day to make sure there are never any lethal amounts within reach. She’s never tried to overdose on purpose or anything, but when she’s drinking, stupid stuff happens, and I don’t want to be the son who comes home to find his mother dead on the floor.
Mom finishes her cup of coffee, then wipes her mouth. “You know, they were here first, Milo.”
Dad’s eyes narrow into a glare. “Evie, they’re a family of thugs and killers. They have done nothing but terrorize this town. I’ll be doing everyone a huge favor if I drive their asses right back to Mexico where they belong.”
“Mancini is an Italian name,” she murmurs.
I glance between my parents. If Dad heard her, he’s not saying anything. One of the only topics to really rile my dad is the Mancini family. A horde of them live in the northwest side of town. Apparently they moved here a few generations ago when the town was lush and beautiful. Since then, it has slowly declined. Scared store owners worth something packed up and left, to be replaced with either the desperate or the kind of people looking for things that only the Mancini family can provide.
Dad’s never been able to prove his drug trafficking theories, but he’s hoping a fresh, new cop can come in and hand out some justice. The last chief of police got sick and left pretty quickly after Nick Mancini murdered a reporter from the Armitage Gazette. Dad said it was stress that caused the cancer. The guy just wasn’t up for dealing with a homicide.
You see, Armitage might be a shithole—we have our drunks and addicts, our thieves and liquor store robberies—but no one gets shot in cold blood. Not the way Todd McCrae was.
Nick Mancini was charged with first-degree murder and sentenced to life imprisonment. It was the least he deserved. Dad was fuming. All his efforts to clean up the town and put it back on the map went up in smoke. Small-town America is supposed to be safe and welcoming. Dad’s been working his ass off to get Armitage there, but the Mancinis make it damn impossible.
You can never trust a Mancini.
That’s what Dad always says. The blood running through their veins is nothing but bad.
“I better be off.” Dad downs his coffee and stands tall, smoothing his tie before placing a quick kiss on Mom’s lips. She flinches, then forces a
smile, not meeting his gaze when he whispers, “I’ll be home late.”
“Tell me something new.” Her soft laughter is terse.
I pretend I don’t notice.
It’s easier to imagine that her laughter is real and sweet, the way it used to be when I was a kid.
Dad walks around the table, buttoning his jacket before pointing at me. “Reece Barlow has three daughters who’ll be starting at Armitage High this week. Make sure you’re nice to them. We need to make a good impression with this family.”
I lean back in my chair and give him a cocky grin. “They pretty?”
He chuckles, giving me a soft punch on the arm. “If they’re anything like their mother, they’ll be damn fine.”
“Okay then. I’ll be nice.” He matches my sly smile with one of his own before belting out a laugh and heading for the door.
Mom rolls her eyes and gives me a scathing look. “You’re as bad as your brothers.”
I put on my best smile and her stern expression soon melts away to a motherly look of pride. Shaking her head, she hides her chuckle behind her hand and tells me to get going.
3
Softball Won’t Do
MADDIE
The furniture has been squished into our house and we’re all exhausted.
But of course Dad’s not done.
After a quick visit from Milo Carter, who bathed us in cheesy smiles and awkward small talk, Dad insisted we head up to Armitage High for a look around the school. We’re already enrolled and set to start tomorrow, but Dad in his usual go-getter style wants us to meet the principal.
I squirm in my seat as Principal Sheehan beams me a smile and asks what I’m hoping to do once I graduate.
He’s established that Chloe is passionate about humanitarian work. She’s only a junior but she’s already started researching colleges with the best health and nutrition courses. I bet in five years’ time she’ll be off in some remote part of the world, working in an orphanage or educating underdeveloped villages about nutrition and sanitation.
Max doesn’t know what she wants to do, but Dad answered for her, going on about how she’s lining up for a baseball scholarship at Ohio University.
And now it’s my turn.
I clear my throat and paste on a smile. “I’ve applied to a few different colleges in the country, including some here in California. I’d like to study accounting or have a career in finance.”
“Madelyn’s a big fan of numbers.” Dad pats me on the shoulder, his smile proud. “She’s got one of those brains that can compute anything. She’s one smart cookie.”
Okay, Dad, we get it. You can shut up now.
I steal a glance at Max, who rolls her eyes behind Dad’s back. Chloe winks at me and then bites her lips together to hamper her grin.
My lips twitch, comforted by the fact my sisters get it.
I seriously don’t know what I’d do without them.
“Well, Armitage High has three wonderful math teachers, and the business studies courses we provide are just as good as any school in this state. So you’re all set.”
His broad smile looks almost strained, but I’m probably reading too much into it. He’s been kind of sales-pitchy the whole time we’ve been in his office, which is weird because hello, we’re already enrolled here.
Dad grabs the principal’s attention by clearing his throat. “My girls are also excellent baseball players. I’m guessing tryouts have already happened, but I’d like them to have an opportunity to speak with the coach and see if we can’t find a space for them.”
“Baseball?” Principal Sheehan’s pale eyebrows rise and he lets out a soft chuckle.
“You do have a baseball team. The Pitbulls.” Dad’s voice is smooth and soft, but I don’t miss the underlying edge. He’s so getting his way on this one. “From what Mayor Carter told me, they’re not half bad.”
The principal smooths down his tie. “Uh, yes. They are a great team. They’re actually the sporting stars of our school. We’re very proud.”
“Excellent.” Dad slaps his knee with a grin. “My girls will be an asset to the team. Might even take them right through to the state championships.”
Principal Sheehan’s laughter is kind of wooden as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his desk. His suit jacket bunches around his shoulders as he grabs a pen and starts clicking it.
“The thing is, Chief Barlow, it’s a boys team. Girls don’t play baseball in Armitage. Now, we do have a softball team that your daughters can join.” His wince tells me they must be crap, and Dad sees straight through it in a heartbeat.
“No.” Dad’s already shaking his head. “My girls play baseball, and I can assure you that they will play it just as well as any boy at your school.”
I internally groan. Just because our all-girls team made it to the championships in an all-girls league doesn’t mean we can play as well as the guys. Although Max probably can. She was born to play ball.
I try to catch her eye but she’s looking down at her lap, probably wishing the floor would open up and swallow us. Dad is seriously embarrassing.
“Well, um, I’m not sure Coach Keenan will allow girls to join. It’s only ever been an all-male team at Armitage High.”
“I guess you’ve never had girls good enough to join.” Dad’s gaze is steely and unrelenting. “Mayor Carter assured me this wouldn’t be a problem.”
The principal snickers and drops his pen-clicking routine, only to replace it with a tie-smoothing exercise.
“Principal Sheehan.” Dad leans forward in his chair. “It would be a real shame for Armitage High to be accused of discriminating against females in the school, wouldn’t it? I’m pretty sure if we look into it, you’ll find that my girls have just as much right as any boy at this school to try out for a baseball team. If they’re not good enough, then you don’t have to play them. But you do have to let them try.”
Clearing his throat, Principal Sheehan gives Dad a tight smile and a barely there nod. “I, uh… Why don’t we walk over to the baseball field now and I’ll introduce you. I’m sure Coach Keenan will be very intrigued to meet your daughters.”
“Thank you, sir.” Dad sticks out his hand. That smile he gets on his face when he’s won is wide and triumphant as he shakes the principal’s hand.
He spins to me and indicates I get up with a quick head tilt towards the door.
I reluctantly stand, jitters scurrying through me as I follow my family out the door.
This should be fun.
Not.
4
Incoming: Three Unknown Hotties
HOLDEN
I squeeze the ball in my mitt, focusing my gaze on Luke’s glove.
He’s crouched behind the batter, ready to catch whatever I throw at him.
Glancing at his fingers, I read his signal, lift my leg and power a fastball straight through the strike zone.
Luke collects the ball. I know he’s grinning under that mask as Kingston smacks his bat on the ground with a curse.
“Strike three. You’re out, man.” Luke laughs, slapping Kingston on the butt as he shuffles off home plate.
Zane steps up, adjusting his helmet and telling Kingston not to worry about it. “We’re just practicing, dude. Chill. We’ll be killing it by the time the season starts.”
“I hate your fastball, Carter.” Kingston points his bat at me.
I grin and point my mitt right back at him. “You love it.”
Kingston flips me off, which makes me laugh, but the sound is cut short because my eyes land on three beauties that I do not know.
How is it possible for me to not know three girls that hot?
I eye them up as they walk towards the field alongside Principal Sheehan and a big, scary-looking dude I don’t recognize.
The three girls are obviously related. They all look the same, although the shorter one on the end has a slightly different face. The two taller girls have to be twins, though. They’re identical. The only way t
o tell them apart is by their clothes. One is dressed in black skinny jeans and a fitted white T-shirt with a baggy red-and-black checkered shirt over top. She’s looking pretty serious as she walks beside a man who I assume is her father, listening in on his conversation with the principal.
The other twin’s wearing ratty jeans with holes in the knees and thighs. A baggy baseball shirt hangs down past her butt. She’s wearing a Columbus Clippers cap and saying something to her other sister. The one on the end laughs, then tucks her long hair behind her ear before pulling down her pink sweater sleeves to cover her hands.
“Hello, ladies.” Zane leans his arm on my shoulder as we watch the girls approach. “Are they triplets?” He squeezes my shoulder, already getting excited.
I understand why.
These hotties have legs like gazelles. Tight bodies. Luscious hair.
All kinds of goodness in a package of three!
It’s insane.
“Who are they?” Kingston’s almond eyes go wide as he approaches the mound. He’s not drooling like the rest of us, but he’s got himself a girl already and they are majorly in love.
“I call dibs.” Luke grins, nestling his catcher’s mask into the crook of his elbow.
Zane frowns. “On which one?”
“All three of them.”
“Don’t be a jerk.” I snicker.
“Seriously, who are they?” Kingston asks again, looking more and more concerned the closer they get to us.
“That must be the new chief of police, Reece Barlow.” I tip my chin to indicate the big guy towering next to Principal Sheehan.
“Huh,” Kingston mutters, eyeing him carefully. “Maybe he can help us find the asshole who stole all the money raised for the homecoming dance.”
I scoff, my voice taking on a dark edge. “Come on. We all know it was Vincent Mancini.”
“No one’s been able to prove it, though.” Zane slaps my shoulder. “And stop changing the subject. I want to talk about the Barlow sisters. Who gives a shit about their dad?”
