Page 118 of Wild Pitch
He jerks back in surprise. “Then what the hell are you waiting for? I mean, I’m sure you’re a really popular guy, but no other woman can compare to my Hope.”
“I know that.” I nod in full agreement. “And I’m working on it.”
“Well hurry, before a better guy snaps her up.” He takes a gigantic bite out of his arepa after voicing my new biggest fear. He then speaks with his mouth full, “And just so we’re clear, if you hurt her I’ll hurt you back.” Basically, kicking me while I’m already down.
But he’s not wrong at all. “Understood,” I say and grab a strip of bacon.
“Coffee?”
“Please let me get it.”
He nods and points with his mouth at the pot of coffee. After bringing two mugs for him and for me, we settle into a pleasantquiet as we finish our plates. I insist in loading the dishwasher and letting him rest, and he shares that even though he can’t play right now, he still goes to hang out with his retired friends while they play and then catch lunch together.
“Remember,” he says at the door once I’m leaving. “You better treat my little girl like a gentleman or I’ll use my machete to leave you permanently walking funny.”
I’d laugh if it wasn’t so graphic. “You own a machete?”
“Two. How do you think those plantain trees at the front stay nice and pretty?”
Well, I guess they weren’t palms like I thought.
“Roger that,” I mumble, resisting the urge to bodily protect my threatened parts.
Humberto offers his hand and I shake it. He’s as strong as any young buck in the pros. “This time it’s not a threat: good luck making my daughter happy.”
“Um, thank you, sir.”
With a final nod, he dismisses me and goes back in his house. I stand for a moment, staring dazed at the brown door, until I manage to drag myself to my truck.
Halfway to my house is when it clicks that he basically gave me permission to pursue his daughter in between the open threats and over the hearty breakfast. I sag in my seat, because I have no intention of hurting Hope at all. I don’t know how the hell I’ll manage to turn myself into boyfriend material, but I will—for her I will. With just the same frenzied zeal that took me all the way to the starter pitcher position of a professional baseball team.
The first rays of sunlight are hitting the sky by the time I roll into my street. The sedan is gone, along with most of the cars in the street. I pull into my garage and dial Lou as I get out of my car.
“What?” he snaps. “I was in the middle of sleep, you absolute?—”
I interrupt him. “The stalker was outside my house last night. I had to spend the night somewhere else.” I walk into the house through the garage door, checking the vast space in case the stalker found the way to walk through walls. Nothing but silence greets me, both in my house and also on the line. “Lou?”
“You gotta press charges,” he spits out.
“I know, it’s why I’m calling. I need your help to start the process.”
“Right on. And maybe you should consider hiring security personnel for a while.”
I scrunch up my face. “What if I stay at a hotel for a while instead?”
“Or that. Call me again if something happens.” He grumbles, “Even if it’s in the middle of the night.”
“Wow, I appreciate the thought.”
“Lay off the sarcasm, kid.” While I chuckle, he asks, “Can I go back to sleep now?”
“Sure—and hey?”
“What?” he snaps again.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t get sappy again, it’s too early.” With that he disconnects the call.
