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I WOKE UP IN A SWEAT, the ghosts of a dream whispering through my brain like smoke, disappearing in the ether as I figured out where I was. I wasn’t sure what the dream had been about, but it had been enough to make me sit up suddenly, sending shockwaves of pain over my shoulder and thumping inside my cheek under my eye.
Sitting in the soft light of the moonlight coming through the crack in the curtains over the window, I breathed deeply to try to regain my heartbeat’s normal rhythm. A few moments later, I finally was able to simply breathe through my nose and felt calmer.
But awake.
I lay back down, trying to force my eyes closed, but it was no use. I was awake now. Wide awake. And nothing was going to put me back to sleep. Not for a bit, anyway.
Reluctantly, I rolled a bit and tried to get myself comfortable despite being on my hurt shoulder side. In the darkness of the room, I could see the mound on the couch that represented Lila. At some point, she had left the bed and gone over there to sleep. I couldn’t blame her, I guess. I was the one who had slipped out in the middle of the night the last time we fell asleep together. She was returning the favor all around, it seemed.
I listened to her breathing softly from across the room and tried to let myself drift off to that, but it didn’t work. I kept opening my eyes and staring at her. And the more I stared at her, the more I wanted to wake her up. Invite her over. Have her curl up in my arm and kiss the top of her head. Her lips. And more.
Standing up, sweeping my legs out of the bed and pushing them down into the soft carpet, I walked over to the window. It was desolate outside. The parking lot was quiet and empty of anything other than sleeping cars and the remnants of the fight. Someone was going to discover a broken mirror in the morning. I wondered if they had cameras over there. If they would see what happened.
I would find out, I guessed. No use worrying about it tonight.
The beach was also empty. Water lapped up over the sand and seemed soothing. I wanted to be down there, to let the water wash over my feet and see if the cooler air, the salt and sea would clear the thoughts that were racing over and over through my mind. Looking back at Lila, she seemed quite well asleep.
There was a problem, though. I didn’t have a key. Not to her room, anyway. Thinking fast, I went to my slacks and pulled out one of my own room keys. I didn’t bother putting on different clothes. It was still warm out there, according to my phone. Boxers looked as much like regular shorts as anything else, and there was no need to wear a shirt on a beach.
Propping the door open with the keycard for my own room so that it looked like it was shut, but a push could get me back inside, I slipped down the hall to the stairs and went down gingerly. I didn’t really notice until I was going down them how much my legs and back hurt. The fight had taken a lot out of me, and I had been hit in various places. I was probably purple and bruised all over, enough that if anyone saw me out there without a shirt, they would have questions.
Thankfully, the lobby was empty, and when I went out of the door leading to the beach, no one was out there either. I walked quietly out to the edge of the water and let the water wash over my feet. It was cold, but not freezing. The hot weather was already warming it up, despite it only being spring. Apparently, Myrtle Beach hadn’t had the same kind of surprisingly cold winter North Georgia had.
Still, it was cold enough that I didn’t want to be perpetually pounded by the waves, so I sat back a little bit from the shoreline, where the water only occasionally reached me, and crossed my arms over my knees.
The stars glowed bright despite the city lights, and I listened to the sound of the lazy waves running along the sealine. In the distance, I could hear people farther down the beach, still enjoying their spring break. It was nearly five in the morning, but for some people, Spring Break meant being awake until the sun started a new day and drinking began again.
What was I going to do?
Out here, in the darkness, alone with the water, I felt myself clearly think for the first time in a while. The answers seemed to float up like foam on the water, leaving little trails of thought. Each one seemed so real, so perfect, and then it would dissolve into a new thought, with new trails.
I just had to choose.
For one, I was going to break up with Star.
I never should have pursued her in the first place, and I knew that now. I was enamored by a vision, an idea of what I wanted her to be, not who she was. Lila was right. Star was honest about who she was at all times. She didn’t try to convince you she cared. You knew she didn’t. But she was so alluring that you thought it might change. You convinced yourself of it.
But as I hurt myself over and over with her, I realized that I was wrong. She wasn’t as alluring as I’d thought she was. What I knew about her now colored everything I thought I knew about her before. She wasn’t the perfect creature who I thought she was when I helped her find her artwork in a swirling winter wind.
I was going to let her go, and she probably wouldn’t even care. It would be surprising to her if it was hard for me. She never asked to be in a relationship. She just went along with whatever I said because she liked me. But the second I was out of the picture, she moved on. I probably didn’t even need to break up with her. If I never contacted her again, I didn’t know that she would even notice.
As for Lila...
I’d have to figure that out afterwards.
The big question, the one that was looming over me, was what I was going to do about the gang.
They had offered me a choice that first time in the parking lot. A choice that I told them then was impossible. A choice that they told me was my only two choices, and when they saw me at the club, they thought I didn’t take them seriously. So they were going to force one of them.
They wanted me to throw the games I pitched in. They wanted me to throw beachball fastballs to the three-four guys and get hammered with homers. They wanted me to swing and miss on purpose when I came up to the plate. They wanted me to throw the games, so they could bet on them, and win. If they won ten thousand dollars on the bets, they would call it even, they said. They might even make it on the first two games, they said.
But then, if I refused...
If I refused, it was twenty thousand dollars, due Sunday. If I didn’t have it, I wasn’t going to make it to the championship game, assuming we qualified. Which, considering we were favorites, was a pretty good lock.
It was a dilemma. It would be so easy to throw the games, especially now. I could lie about my arm, then just go up there and throw BP fastballs until I got yanked. I was sure I’d get knocked around with the guys we were playing. They would take advantage quickly. I probably would only pitch for an inning before being yanked. One inning. Twice. And it would be over.
But then, if I did that, we wouldn’t make it out of the Round Robin tournament to the finale. And I would have scouts see me look like a minor leaguer.
And worst, I would let my teammates down. I would let Coach down.
I would let Kevin down.
I couldn’t do that. Not for them. Not for anyone. I couldn’t throw a game.
So, twenty thousand dollars it was. That represented everything I had in the bank, but it would fix it. And then they would leave me and my friends alone. Hell, they would probably bet on me at that point. Everyone else was going to. No matter how dumb it would be with me being hurt like I was.
If I paid them off, it was going to be detrimental to my finances. I had been able to live off my scholarships and grants thus far without needing a job. It allowed me to focus solely on my academics and baseball. But now, that would change. I would have to find something to do for money. I might even have to move out of the place Kevin and I shared, because I wouldn’t be able to pay the rent past June, when it was paid up until already.
Then again, I’d be free. Completely free. Because I would be damned if I had anything else to do with my father again. Mom was on the bubble, but Dad was done. I was done saving his ass. I was done using his last name. I was done with being his son. Prison or not, gangs or not, I was done with him for good. When I made the payment to the gang, I would let them know that I was done. That as far as I was concerned, I didn’t give a shit if Dad owed them anything, they could do with him what they pleased.
I got the impression that if they couldn’t leverage Dad’s well-being against me, and my well-being certainly didn’t matter to Dad, that they would probably leave me alone at that point. It would be nice to not ever have to worry about picking up the phone for them again. Never having to worry about saving their ass again. Or being guilted into running the store or coming home and paying for Christmas dinner again.
I would have to live off ramen for a while. Ramen and chicken breasts were an underrated combination. I could buy chicken in bulk, stick it in the freezer, buy a bottle of sriracha and ramen, and I’d be fine. It would suck after a while, but I could make it until the new school year. Then it should even out. And with no parents to worry about, I’d be okay. Major Leagues or not, I would be okay. I could land somewhere, doing something, even if I never made it to the bigs.
The sudden weight lifted off my shoulders at the idea that I didn’t have to become a big-league player so I could take care of my parents was cathartic. I was starting to feel settled, like I might have a handle on everything. All it would cost me is my luxury for a few months. And my shoulder, I guessed. But that debt was already paid. Whatever happened afterward was up to me. I just had to gut through it or tell Coach I couldn’t pitch. Either way, I would get through it.
Something moved behind me.
A chill ran down my spine as I envisioned the gang. I had no idea why they would be back. It wasn’t like I could have gotten the money in the last few hours. Unless they were back solely for a fight and had waited outside of the hotel until four in the morning to do it, it didn’t make sense for them to show up now.
I turned. Waiting to see that bald head behind me, my fist clenched. I didn’t know if I was going to have to fight my way off the beach or not, but the shadow that was coming toward me, outlined by the streetlight behind it, wasn’t bald, nor was it male.
Hair was tied high on the head, and the shadow reached up to take it down. Slowly, it moved into the moonlight and I could see who it was. It was Lila.
She was wearing extremely short shorts and a tight tank top. The stars shone above and behind her as she made her way toward me, looking like a siren. I stood, feeling a magnetic draw to her. Feeling like I had no choice. I needed to go to her.
Now.
Sand dug between my toes as I began to walk.
Toward her.
