Page 30 of Pretty and Loco

As soon as his lying ass texted me, he told her to leave the door unlocked.

I waited for him to arrive and then followed the GPS to a community not far from our place. I arrived about fifteen minutes after him and parked the car right behind him, blocking him in.

I walked up to the door and twisted the knob. For their sake, they’d better be glad that it was locked. Then, I pressed the doorbell and walked back to the car to get exactly what I had come for.

I got my sledgehammer and demolished Brandon’s new truck. I’m sure they heard the noise, but no matter how many times I pressed the doorbell and called out, they didn’t come. By the time that I had finished dousing the house in gasoline, the cops were pulling up.

I got arrested for a mile-long list of shit. And apparently, telling someone that they had “ten seconds to come out of the house before you blow this bitch up” is a terroristic threat.

Somehow, he convinced her to drop the charges, but it didn’t stop the consequences of what he did. I didn’t let that man have a moment of peace after that. I should have walked away with my head held high and never spoken to him again. But instead, I kept watching the cameras, listening to his conversations, and tracking his messages. I hated how much it consumed me, but it turned into a full-time job.

I would be out and glued to my phone waiting for the next message to come through. I called him constantly day and night. I called his work phone, his cell, the office. I just gave him hell. At some point, it was less about being hurt and more about the principle. Doing these things doesn’t warrant good karma, and I was determined to show him that, even if it took my last breath. I made fucking up their day my favorite part of mine.

He wasn’t the only person who was taught a lesson, though.

Eventually, it landed me in Mind over Matter for a year. While my life had fully stopped, theirs went on, and she stayed with him.

They lived happily while I was stuck with the realization that he made the choice, and it wasn’t me.

Unknown: “Good morning, MVP. It’s the first day of spring training. You were built for this moment. You’ve busted your ass all offseason to prepare you for this moment. Go back and earn that spot. I’ll be cheering you on, handsome. Love you.”

I read the message before pressing the home button. The message came from an unknown number, and it would be motivating as fuck had it not come from Leah. No matter how many numbers I blocked, she just kept finding different ways to contact me. I just stopped blocking them.

I could change my number, but so much was attached to it; I didn’t need the hassle. I just hoped one day the messages would stop and she'd go away. When I asked her to, she said no. So shit, hopefully she decides on her own.

I locked my phone in the locker and started to put on my cleats. Spring training was today, not the first official game of the season, but it was a good way to see how the rookies gel with us. Speedy was having his debut with the team, so he had been on one today. He was the quietest he’d ever been, and I knew he was trying to get his head in the game and make a mark of his own. I respect it.

“You guys ready?” Coach asked as some of the team headed to the field for warmups.

We left the locker room, but I sat in the dugout for a minute and talked to my pops. It was a tradition that I did before every game. When he wasn’t here, I would call him, but it was a home game, and I needed him to get my mind right.

I appreciated that about him. He always made it his business to show up, whether it was home or meant coming clear across the world. I was nearly thirty, but he never let that stop him from supporting me. He showed up, grabbed a cold one and a hot dog, and sat in the stands almost every game, like it was t-ball.

Today my younger brother, Shaun, came with him. We were close because Pops didn’t play that shit. But he had taken a different path in life. Still, it was nothing I had that he couldn’t have.

He reached out his hand to dap me up; I pulled him to me and slapped his back. Before I could step back, he pulled me tighter.

“Nigga I got you on my ticket. They predicted the Astros to win. Y’all don’t blow my shit.” He joked, and I pushed him back and laughed.

The game started, and I was having a hell of a game in the outfield. It was only spring training, so I wasn’t trying to do too much, but I still had that hunger. I caught everything that came my way.

I stepped up to the plate for my second at-bat. The pitcher didn’t move. I lowered my bat, confused, as a song played over the speakers. It was normally my walk-up song.

“We Will Rock You” by Queen.

The entire stadium started to stomp and clap. I thought they were trying to show a nigga love, like it’s my first game back as MVP, so I did a little salute and raised the bat once more.

The cheering didn’t stop.

“Everyone in the stands at Astro Park, we interrupt your game to bring you a special announcement. May I have your attention on the big screen. Rocko Sandersssss, this one is for you.”

The announcer's voice said as the image of me on the big screen changed to a video.

It was a short highlight reel of all my good hits and catches. But the last hit had been exaggerated to look like I was knocking the ball out of the park.

“This… this may be an unexpected curveball.” The announcer said.

The screen went blank, then the words appeared.