“Yeah, I get it. I should probably sign up for a few open spots, too. Hell, at least you’re asked to be here. I’m basically an intern at this point,” Jake says, tugging his sweat-soaked compression shirt over his head and tossing it into the back of his locker.
I move toward him and hold out a fist. We pound knuckles.
“This is our year, dude.” I give Jake a nod of confidence, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I hate seeing him dejected.
Jake’s probably my best friend out here. And he’s justified in being a bit jaded; he doesn’t get the looks he deserves. Being the kid of a legend like Roddy McKinney can go one of two ways—doors fly open with opportunities, or owners are reluctant to give a shot to some kid just because of his last name. Add in that Jake didn’t exactly grow upknowinghis father, and it’s obvious the guy didn’t come to Sweetwater through any shortcuts. He did grow up on this field, though. And that should count for something.
I really hope this is our year. If I go to Texas, I’d really like it to be with him. I love the guy like a brother. In fact, I’d trade my real one for him in a heartbeat.
And lo and behold, it seems all I need to do is merely think of my brother and a report about his recent arrest comes from the TV in the player’s lounge.
The word from Texas is Adriel Vargas will be out for the entire road trip due to this suspension. His agent is appealing, of course. But I’m not sure how much grace the front office is willing to give this kid again, Paul. The police report says highway patrol clocked him at one-twenty.
The locker room isn’t crowded, so not many of my teammates hear the news story. It’s just me and Jake in here, along with a few of the rookies. You could, however, hear a pindrop, it’s so quiet. And that’s because nobody knows exactly what to say about what we all just heard.
Everyone knows my brother Adriel is a massive fuckup. They also know he’s on track to make major bank if he can keep his shit together long enough to land a free-agency contract.
Only Jake and Colby truly understand the weight my brother’s shadow casts on me, though. And every time Adriel does something to get his name in the news or his ass suspended, the route to my dream gets a little bit narrower. It’s the last-name theory, only opposite of Jake’s problem—who wants to take a chance onanotherVargas when the first one is such a goddamn handful.
I plop down on the bench and sigh as I rub my temples. Jake waves his towel toward me and it nicks my kneecap, drawing my attention. I meet his gaze as he levels me with a sympathetic expression, complete with a flat-lined mouth.
“It’s fine. I mean, it’s whatever. I can’t worry about him.” We both know those are just words. I’ll worry. And so will our mom. Same as we always do.
I should call her. I dread calling her about this.
“Hey, but you did sign up for twenty-five hitting sessions, so that counts for something, right?” Jake’s lips tip up on one side, and I breathe out a laugh in response. His teasing pulls me out of my funk a hair.A very tiny hair.
“Might as well sign up for a few more,” I say with a sigh. Jake chuckles on his way to the showers, and as soon as he’s out of sight, I leap to my feet. I was only half-kidding, and when I get to the clipboard, I go ahead and pencil my name in for the only remaining spot Colby has for the next two weeks. My monopolization of her time looks obnoxious, but I suddenly care a whole lot less about the optics. I miss her—I miss my friend. She’s the only one who knows the full story, at least all the way to the part where I cut her off for her own good.
My mom’s pulling into the garage back home when I reach her by phone during my walk to my apartment. She’s a nurse at one of the county hospitals outside Houston, and she just pulled a double. Now’s not the time to pile on about Adriel. She’ll hear about his latest antics soon enough, if she hasn’t already. No need to dredge it up when she’s exhausted.
“I put in for time off at the end of the month. Auntie and I will drive up for your weekend series.” She yawns through her words.
“You’ve seen me play plenty, Mom. It’s a long drive. Why don’t you skip?—”
“My vacation hours, my choice how to spend them.”
There’s a finality to her tone, so I don’t argue. My mom has always shown up for us. Even when my brother makes it hard. She’s always there for the big series in Texas and his opening day. I’d like to think my brother would spend some of his next big payday making her life a bit easier, but I don’t have a lot of faith in him when it comes to selfless acts. Not that our mom would take anything we offered. She loves her work, and being independent has always been a source of pride for her. Especially after my father left her to clean up his mess.
“Okay, but if you’re going to come with Tia, you guys better bring herbizcocho.”
My mom cackles at my request, but she doesn’t say no. Only, “We’ll see.”
I think I hear a hint of promise in her tone, and my taste buds water as I imagine filling my mouth with a bite of my Aunt Marisol’s famous buttery pineapple cake. She makes it in a pan that once belonged to my great-grandmother, and swears thecentury-old candied sugar permanently baked onto the surface gives her cake its flavor. I wouldn’t care if I found out she rubbed it on the ground to achieve perfection. I’d eat the whole damn cake myself, dirt and all.
“I know why you’re calling, Jayden. And don’t worry. Adriel will be just fine.”
I halt my steps and fill my lungs with air as I take in my mom’s words. Of course she already knows about Adriel’s arrest and suspension. And naturally, she knows why her youngest is calling. She also knows that no matter how much she tells me not to worry, I will. Just like I know she doesn’t truly believe my brother will ever bejust fine.
“I wish I were bigger than him so I could beat his ass just once for being a dumbass.” I laugh softly, selling the joke, but my mom’s lack of response signals she’s not buying that I’m kidding.
“He’s family, Jay. He’s your blood. And he’s trying.”
“Is he?” My response slips out before I have time to filter it.
“You know he is,” she scolds.
My mom never picks favorites. Sometimes, though, I wish she would—as long as she picks me. I don’t think Adriel thinks past Adriel, but he’s got a better chance at making it through life with our mom’s faith behind him, so I leave her lie alone.
