Page 118 of Unleashed

I lean down so I’m not yelling. “You can’t do a goddamn threesome with Tesco. Jesus, Garrison. Where are your damn standards?”

Simone laughs as she cocks her eyebrow, using a grating Wilder move, but then looks at the ground. “I mean, I fuck you.” Her weak laugh pisses me off more, and I tighten my grip. “Ow. Why not? It’ll be fun.”

“Because your dad is staying with us.” Hardly my most pressing concern.

Her glare returns to my face, burning hotter than the sun. “We’ll arrange it when you and my father leave.” She tugs her arm, but my clamp is stronger.

Stepping toward the dugout, Wilder repeats, “Rodwell, now.”

“In a minute. Damn.” His glare holds zero weight with me. I continue my rant. “Still, you can’t do this thing with Sylvie and goddamn Ricky Tesco,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down to not tip off anyone.

I almost lose myself in her blue eyes until she blinks and argues, “You still haven’t given me a valid reason not to do it.”

I nod, grasping for any fucking straw I can. “What if Tesco gets you pregnant?”

Simone rolls her eyes. “It’ll be fine. Now, let go of me.”

“No, it won’t be fine. You’re in school. You’re single. You’re too young. And frankly, you’re being irresponsible.” Hail Mary.

Simone scrunches her freckle-sprinkled nose. “I ought to punch you for every one of those.”

From home plate, Betsy yells, “Come on, Greg! It’s hot out here! Get a move on and leave your wife alone!” She cackles behind her catcher’s mask, sounding like Darth Vader’s ugly, illegitimate daughter, Hagatha.

“Why? Because I’m looking out for you and using my brain when you aren’t?”

Simone gasps, “How fucking dare you!”

I growl, “Don’t start with the dare bullshit. It’s—”

“So there’s no chance you can impregnate me because you pull out of my selfish pussy? I mean, gosh, Rod. How can you even trust someone like me? You’re always super responsible, sticking your cock into a dumb college co-ed without protection. Don’t forget that you’re all alone. And older. It’s kind of like you should know better. Maybe they’ll teach you that in law school. Or at your nursing home. Dare I say that?”

Somewhat stunned, when Simone tugs her arm, I let go. She goes to Sylvie, and they head for Officer Dick Slick. I will break, shred, slam, or kill something or someone. The white-hot rage is reminiscent of when I kicked Tanner’s ass at Aunt Amy’s shithole.

I drag my hands over my face so I don’t watch Simone and Sylvie proposition a good-looking manwhore. I can’t measure up to him. He has looks, hair, personality, sex appeal, an STD or two, and a job some women find hot.

Storming over to the helmet bag, I grab the scratched-up blue one that I favor, my usual blue aluminum bat that always does well for me, and go to home plate. I refrain from bat acrobatics and practice swings this time, since Betsy will run her mouth and tempt me to use her as a target.

I try to block out Simone shimmying up to Tesco.

No. I don’t care.

I don’t want to care.

Crick nods and gives me a minute. He knows how I operate. However, Betsy doesn’t.

“Having trouble with the missus already?” Her laughter sounds like a drowning peacock. She slams her fist into her glove repeatedly like she’s threatening me. “I don’t appreciate her talking to me the way she did. She owes me an apology.”

I ignore Betsy as I pace off to the side, concentrating on not thinking of what Simone is doing. Yet, I look over to see her and Sylvie giggling with a smirking Tesco, who took his hat off. Sylvie drags her fingers through his shaggy hair, curling at the ends. Simone’s looking at him the way she used to look at me. It was all a lie.

“Earth to Greg. I can’t believe you and Simone are a couple. And married? Are you crazy? How do you even put up with her?”

I flip the bat once, catching it before I spin around and snap, “She’s not you.”

She grunts, having no response. Standing on third base, Val frowns as Audrey at third base glances at me. I’m today’s gossip. Awesome.

I get into my batting stance as Betsy bitches more. I forgot my batting gloves, which are unnecessary, as is playing softball on a baseball field. Softball fields don’t have a mound because the underhand pitching and the bases are closer. The bats and ball gloves are different too. Underhand pitching an actual softball and playing seven innings remain the only things we’re doing right. Crick and I had to adjust to the ball size and pitch style.

I nod at Crick, who throws me a wicked fastball, for softball at least, and I don’t waste it. I slice my bat through the air and smash the fucker into the outfield. Crick gives me a thumbs up as everyone cheers and watches Patrice and Brandon chase it. I toss the bat and jog to first base before Wilder whines.

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