by Alison Mello
When I pull up to Stella's place, the door is open along with the windows. I knock on the screen door, and a second later Stella shouts for me to come in. "Hey, baby." I walk into the kitchen to find her busy cooking. "Mmm, smells good in here." I wrap my arms around her waist.
"Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes."
"Mom, I'm done with my homework." DJ comes running into the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Coach." He doesn't sound as excited as I thought he would.
I chuckle. "DJ, I know it may take some getting used to, but you can call me Trystan when we're not at the field. Are you ready to throw the ball around?"
He puts his books in his bag. "Sure."
"Great, let me grab my glove." Stella looks up at me and from the look on her face, I think she catches his change in attitude as well. I walk over to the bag I left by the door to grab my glove, and the two of us head out back. He throws the ball up in the air and catches it. "Okay, remember we have to warm up before we can start throwing or you'll hurt that shoulder and you'll never last as a pitcher." He drops his glove, and we start going through our various stretches. I can see he's getting antsy and wants to throw the ball. "Relax. We have plenty of time." He shakes his arms out and takes a deep breath.
So I can make sure I don't put too much space between us, I count out my steps as I walk away. There are about forty-five feet between the mound and home plate. "Okay, now go easy." He lines himself up and throws the ball. He has a good arm. He just needs a little more control with his throw. I toss it back to him, and he catches it. Letting out a deep breath, he throws it again and lets go of it a bit late. I toss it back, and he makes the same mistake a second time. "You're letting it go a tad late."
"I know," he growls in frustration, and it surprises me. I've yet to see him get frustrated like this.
He throws another one, and this one is in a good spot. "Good, did you feel the difference in the throws?" He nods but doesn't respond. He exhales a deep breath and throws again, trying to put too much speed behind it. He lets it go way late, and it doesn't even reach me. I stand up, walk over to the ball, and pick it up, but instead of throwing it, I walk it over to him. "What's up?"
"What do you mean?" He looks at me like I'm crazy.
"Why are you trying to throw it so hard? You had no problem at practice the other night." He crosses his arms.
"I don't know. I'm off today," he snaps, not even looking at me.
"Do you want to keep going?" I'm not even sure what to do right now. I'm not used to dealing with this type of thing. He seems so angry and distant today. He holds his hand out for the ball. I hand it to him and walk back to my spot. He throws it again and this time it goes high. I jump up to catch it, but because of my ankle, I nearly miss it. I have a hard time staying in a catcher's position now.
"I think you need a break." I take off my glove.
"I'm fine," he snaps.
"DJ, I'm just getting to know you, and I know you're not fine. Now, you can either tell me what's going on, or we can take a break."
"Nothing is going on," he shouts at me.
"Dylan!" Stella reprimands from the back porch. His eyes shoot to his mother's. "You will not talk to Trystan that way. Now, get in this house, wash up, and when you're ready to act like the young man I've raised you can join us for dinner." He throws his glove to the ground and runs into the house straight past his mother. I walk over to his glove, scoop it up off the ground, and meet Stella on the porch. "I'm so sorry." She looks down at me from the top step.
"You have nothing to be sorry about. I just wish I knew what was bothering him. Even I know that's not like him."
She shakes her head. "Puberty?" She takes my hand and pulls me into the house. "Come on, dinner is ready." There's a delicious smelling pork roast on the table with potatoes, carrots, and green beans.
"This smells delicious."
She hands me a plate. "Help yourself." She picks up a plate for herself, and we both get busy serving ourselves food.
I look over my shoulder toward the hall that leads to DJ's room, and then I look back at my plate. "Should we wait for DJ?"
She shakes her head. "If I know my son, he’ll be out in a few minutes." I let out a deep breath and begin cutting into my meat. I feel so bad, but I'm not sure what more I can do. If the kid doesn't want to tell us what's wrong, there isn't much we can do to make it better. The kid has a decent arm and I knew he needed a little practice, but I could tell by the way he was throwing tonight something wasn't right.
As Stella said, a few minutes later he comes out with pouty lips and takes a seat at the table. His mother grabs his plate and puts food on it for him. He sits quietly, picking at it, and every so often he actually takes a bite. "How was school today?" I have a feeling based on his fears Tuesday and his attitude today, something happened.
His eyes shoot up to mine, but he says nothing for a moment. He finally tosses his fork onto his plate. "Do you really care to know?"
"I asked."
"Yeah, well, from what I hear you don't care much. You're more of a use 'em and lose 'em kind of guy."
My brows furrow. "What are you talking about, DJ? Who said that to you?"
"As I expected, I’m getting my balls busted at school. I was told to not expect you to stick around too long." He licks his lips. "Also heard you're coaching the team to stay out of jail, not because you want to." He leans back, crossing his arms.
"Dylan, that's none of your business," Stella tells him.
"No, it's okay. He needs to hear this,” I reply to Stella before I turn to DJ. "DJ, you're partially correct. First, I'm not a use 'em and lose 'em kind of guy. I really like your mother and I get it may take a while for you to trust me, but I'll work on that. Second, I am coaching because I want to stay out of jail, but I'm also happy to be coaching."
He looks at me. "What did you do?"
I go into the story with him about how I screwed up and that it's important that he learns from my mistakes. It makes me realize that there's a lesson in this for all the kids, and I make a mental note to discuss it with the parents because clearly, Judge Mackey's grandson can't keep his mouth shut.
"DJ, if you're being bullied at school I need to call the principal.” I can hear the panic in Stella's voice.
The poor kid’s eyes practically pop out of his head. "You can't do that, Mom. This is middle school, if you do that you'll make it worse."
"I agree, Stella. If word gets out that his mom went to school to fight his battles, he'll be labeled." The last thing this poor kid needs as the new kid in town is to walk around with a pussy label, and that's what Ethan will give him.
"What do we do?"
"We keep an eye on things, and we talk with DJ about how to handle the situation himself. If it gets out of control he can go to the teacher himself, but you do it and it will get worse." She closes her eyes and nods.
"I swear I moved from the city so I wouldn't have to deal with this sort of thing." She shakes her head.
"Sugar, this kind of thing is everywhere. We may have less crime, but you can't avoid bullying in any school system."
"Eat up, Dylan. You need to finish dinner, clear the table, and then take a shower." Stella gets up to put the leftover food in containers so that DJ can put the dishes in the dishwasher when he's finished. I clear my plate and help her out. I don't want her to have to clean up by herself. I grab the empty roast pan and scrub it in the sink, then dry it when I'm done. I have to admit I'm hoping if DJ sees me helping he'll start to realize that I really do like his mom and want to be a part of their lives.
Once I'm done, Stella and I go into the living room to leave DJ by himself. Stella whispers, "I want to give him a little space." No sooner do we take a seat on the couch do we hear him cleaning up.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting Ethan to run his mouth off about how I became the coach of the team. I’ll speak to either his mother or his grandfather this week."
"Isn't that as bad as going to the school?" Sh
e looks concerned, and she has a right to be.
"You may be right, but I have a right to privacy and your son has a right to not get picked on at school. I think his mother should know that he's giving people's private information out, no?" She nods her agreement.
DJ comes into the living room and takes a seat across from us. He has his phone in his hand. "What are you doing, buddy."
"Talking to Mason. He thinks I'm crazy for listening to the crap that Ethan dishes out."
"What do you think?" she asks him.
He slouches in the seat and puts his feet up. "I think Ethan's a jerk, and I wish he weren't on the team."
"I'll take care of Ethan. You just watch your back at school." I lean forward with my elbows on my knees.
He puts the phone down. "You really gonna stick around?"
"You better believe it." He nods.
"Can I go shower and get ready for bed?"
"Go," Stella tells him. He runs off to his room, saying nothing more. I can see this poor kid is struggling. I hope I'm not in over my head. He seems like a good kid, but this is all new to me. She turns to me. "Welcome to my life. I thought this was supposed to get easier as they grew up, but I have to tell you—this kid is killing me. I have no idea what I'm going to do when he hits the teenage years."
I can't help but laugh at the exaggerated face she's making. "It'll be fine, but for tonight I think I'm going to head home. He may want to talk to you." I see fear flash across her face. "I'm not running. I'm here, but I don't want to overstep. He needs to get used to the idea of me being around."
She walks me to the door. I look down into her eyes and press my lips to hers. Her tongue pokes out, asking for entry. Our tongues meet and the shock that goes through my body causes my dick to stir. God, I love the way this woman tastes. I pull away and press my forehead against hers. “Have a good night, sugar.”
“You too. Call me?”
“For sure.” I walk out the door feeling bad that I’m leaving, but I need to go home, shower, and get ready for work tomorrow.
After spending the evening at Stella’s throwing the ball around with DJ I can see what a great kid he is, but I know he’s holding back. I guess it’s to be expected. Maybe if I tell him about my dad it would be helpful in getting him to open up some. For now, I have to deal with Billy and the guys. Tonight we’re having a guys’ night. I promised Rick we would plan something that didn’t revolve around alcohol, and that’s what we’re doing. Billy wasn’t too thrilled that we weren’t going to the bar, but we told him we wanted to change it up when in reality we’re going to try to talk to him about getting help and moving on. He needs to do something positive with his life or he’s never going to see that there’s life outside of his loss.
I walk into Anthony’s where we’re starting the night with some dinner. Then we’re heading to the pool hall for a couple rounds of pool. We all agreed that we’re not going to drink to see what Billy does. I have a feeling he’ll order a beer at the pool hall, but we’re going to talk with him to see if we can get him to back off a bit.
The hostess informs me that Rick is already here. She leads me to the table.
“What’s up, bro?” Rick and I shake hands.
“Jack just sent me a text. He’s on his way here.”
“Cool. I’m not going to lie, I’m not sure this is going to go over well.” I have a feeling he’s going to freak out on us.
“We have to take it one day at a time, and we need to make him believe that too. He’s our boy, and he needs our help. I have no doubt in my mind that if it were him driving that night he would be dead. He’s lucky you hooked him up, and it appears it worked out okay for you too.” He gives me a dirty grin.
I can’t help but smile. “Things are going pretty well. We’re taking it slow.” I shake my head. “I already screwed up this week.” I tell him about Tuesday night and how I thought it was going to end in disaster, but we ended up okay. As I’m finishing the story Jack shows up, but Billy still isn’t here. We decide to order some appetizers while we wait for him to arrive.
When the waitress walks away to put in our order, Jack says, “I hope he doesn’t blow us off. I have a feeling he knows what we were up to.”
“Why do you say that?” Rick asks.
Jack shrugs. “He was weird at work today. He kept grumbling about how we weren’t going to our normal spot. He thinks this is Trystan’s fault. He said that you getting pulled over is messing everything up.”
“Oh man. He’s going to walk in here with a chip on his shoulder. This isn’t going to be good.”
“Everyone, just relax. If we play it cool then he will be cool,” Rick encourages. When the appetizers arrive and he’s still not here, we start to get a little nervous and now realize we have to come up with another plan.
“What do we do?” I ask the guys.
“Well, let’s be real. It’s Friday night. If he’s not here, we all know where he is. Let’s finish dinner then we’ll go looking for him,” Rick suggests.
“Isn’t that only going to piss him off more?” Jack asks.
Rick shakes his head. “I don’t really care. He’s our boy, and we have to help him. Caleb was in town last week. He told me he saw him walking home from the bar. Well, he said it was more of a stumble. That’s not good.”
“At least he didn’t drive.”
More food is delivered. We ask the waitress to deliver the check, and we all hurry to eat. It’s starting to get late because this place is packed. We need to get over to the bar before he’s too far gone or things will only be worse. As soon as we’re done eating Rick pays the bill, and we all rush off to our cars. I decide to send Stella a quick text, letting her know that I may not get to call her tonight and I fill her in on the situation. We’ve been talking almost every night, and I don’t want her to think I’m blowing her off. Things are going good, and I want to keep it that way. As soon as I get a response that says Talk to you tomorrow, I take off and shoot over to the bar. When I pull up, the guys are in the parking lot waiting for me.
“What the hell took you so long?” Jack busts my balls.
“Sorry, I wanted to let Stella know that I may not get to call her tonight.” I lock my Corvette, and the three of us walk into the bar together.
The place is busy as usual for a Friday night, but we easily spot Billy. He’s in the same seat he’s always in and, from the looks of it, he’s already half in the bag. I tap Rick on the arm and nod in Billy’s direction. When we get over to him, he doesn’t even bother looking up at us. He just stares into his glass. “Don’t bother,” he mumbles.
“Don’t bother what? Joining you? Or asking why you didn’t show up? Or maybe you don’t want us to bother giving you shit about the fact you’re drunk on your ass yet again.” Jack lays into him.
“Fuck you. You’re not my father.”
“No, but I’m your friend, and I’m tired of seeing you put yourself through this all the time. Every weekend is the same shit, and it’s time for it to stop.”
“Yeah, come on, man, let’s get out of here,” I try to encourage.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Fuck you too. This is all your fault. If you had just let me be that Friday night.”
I cut him off. “If I had let you be, then you’d probably be dead right now.”
“Good,” he shouts, sending spit flying from his drunken mouth. He pushes the stool back, sending it to the floor and he nearly tumbles.
“Hey!” the bartender shouts. “No fighting in my bar. You guys take it outside.” It pisses me off because the asshole knows we’re friends. We’re in here all the time with him.
“How did you get here, Billy?” Rick asks him.
“I drove. How the fuck do you think I got here,” he growls and points a finger my way. “Unlike this asshole, I can control my vehicle.”
I shake my head because I’m getting pissed and I’m about to lose it on him, but Rick steps in front of me and stops us from getting out of control.
“Okay, here’s how this is going to go down. I’m driving you home, and the boys are meeting me at your place. You can get your car tomorrow.”
“I don’t need your help.”
Rick chuckles, “Oh, you do.” He takes his arm and the three of us head out into the parking lot. “You think I don’t notice your drinking during the day. I know you sneak shots here and there, and I’m done. It’s time for you to pull your shit together because if this doesn’t stop, you’re out a job too.” His eyes go wide. “Yeah, I know. You thought you were slick and no one knew. We all know what you’re up to.” Rick opens the car door for him, and he climbs inside. “See you guys over there.”
We both nod and climb into our vehicles to follow him over. After Billy lost his family in the fire, he went into an instant depression, moved into an apartment, and abandoned the house.
When I pull up to the building, Rick is helping a half passed out Billy from the car. Jack and I hurry over to help get him inside, but what we discover shocks us. His apartment is trashed, and I mean trashed. There’s pizza boxes, paper plates, and liquor bottles everywhere. How did we not see this was getting so bad. The table is lined with newspapers and flyers, the counters lined with boxes and empty bottles of Jack Daniels. “Just go,” he slurs, stumbling into his place.
Rick shakes his head. “I don’t think so. We’ve been boys all our lives. I can’t believe I let you get this bad. I failed you, but that stops now.”
“You can’t fix me. I’m empty.” He slumps onto the small spot left empty on the couch. It’s clearly the only spot he sits in because everything else is covered in trash.
Jack is in the kitchen looking through the cabinets. “Jesus, there’s not one piece of food in this house.”
“Just leave me alone.” This time it comes out in more of a whine.
