Page 112 of The Shake Off

“You’re an asshole, Penn. You don’t give a fuck about anything except baseball!”

“That’s not true, and you know it,” he snapped, “but I bought this club, and I promised the fans we would win. I promised the fans that we’d changed as a club. This is for them.”

I dropped my head with a shake. “And what about Ace? What if I end this and he fucks up again?”

I couldn’t believe the words were coming out of my mouth, even less than I could believe the words coming out of Penn’s. Scratch that, I expected this from Penn.

These words were the epitome of Penn Shepherd.

“He’ll be fine, now that I know what the cause was in the first place. I can protect him.”

I fixed Penn with the coldest expression I could muster, but the tears still prickling my throat were making it hard, and Penn was giving Antarctica a run for its money right now.

“End it, Payton. We both know you don’t do long term. We both know it’s already run its course. Don’t fuck everything else up along the way and ruin Ace’s career – and this season – in the process because you can’t commit to a relationship.”

“Get out,” I hissed. It was all I could manage.

Penn’s eyes narrowed to the tiniest slits, but he said no more as he flung open the door and stormed out without bothering to close it behind him.

Somewhere between me collapsing onto the couch and the tears making themselves known again, I heard a voice ask, “Was that Penn Shepherd?”

* * *

Mom:Did you speak to your father? He’s being an asshole, again

Ace:I’ll be at your place in an hour

Ace:Make that 30, I’ll shower when I get there and you can join me

Ace:Wanna soap my dick up?

Mom:I’m talking to my lawyer to renegotiate our terms. The man cannot be reasonable about anything

Ace:I’m on the way

Icouldn’t bring myself to reply to either of them. Instead, I reached for the wine, but the bottle was empty, and in the process, I knocked over the mini bottles of tequila I’d found in the cabinet behind the empty full sized one. I mean, who puts back an empty bottle?

I couldn’t have thrown it in the trash like a normal person capable of cleaning up after themselves?

Who was I kidding? Of course, I couldn’t.

It totally summed up my life. My mess.

If couldn’t even keep a fully stocked kitchen to get drunk properly, how could I be expected to do any other type of adulting, like get a promotion without any help? Or summon the courage to stay in a relationship?

I always run. That’s what Penn said. I get scared and run away.

Truer words had never been spoken.

A drunken lightbulb went off in the recesses of my brain. I rolled off the couch and crawled over to the cabinet on the back wall, inside which was a bottle of champagne I’d been sent for my birthday. I’d come home to find it on my doorstep, and immediately stuck it somewhere I wouldn’t have to look at it. The label was still attached.

Sorry it’s late.

Happy Birthday,

Dad

Lukewarm champagne was better than nothing; needs must and all that. If I drank enough, I could forget this whole day.

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