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Saturday to Sunday
“You staying at a hotel instead of with one of us pisses me off almost as much as a fat lip,” Danny quips.
I already explained to them at the bar that it was for one night, just until I see what needs to be done at Mom’s house and then I’d be staying there.
Marks chuckles as he looks at us in the rearview. “Pisses me off that I didn’t get to see him give you a fat lip.”
“Gonna piss me off if a picture of me in the back of a patrol car shows up on the internet because you couldn’t walk three blocks from the station and drive my rental.” I grip the cage between the front and back seat, separating us from Mark, and give it a good shake.
“I can see it now, all over the socials—Superstar MLB playboy arrested in his hometown.” Danny chuckles. “You’ll be pulling in more ass than you were before. Chicks love a bad boy.”
“That’s horseshit,” Marks huffs. “Just as many, if not more females, wanna get down with a good man. Crazy is overrated.”
“Mark, it’s not about being a good guy; it’s about the cuffs. You get off on crazy just as much as the rest of us,” Danny jokes, and that pisses me off.
“That why you broke things off with Whit?” I ask, trying to bite back my annoyance that he fucked up a good thing, and now, she’s with a piece of shit like Kal Seward.
“You got it all wrong, man. She ditched him for Seward,” Marks says as he takes a left.
“How the hell did you let that happen?” I snarl at Danny.
“Didn’t we do this earlier?” Danny throws back at me.
I lean back in the seat, trying to control the anger that’s been boiling inside me since that asshole laid his lips on Whit. “You went chasing after the girl, so, no, not really.”
“Warning you both: If one drop of blood gets on my interior, I’m pinning the next Walton crime on whoever’s DNA it matches.”
“No one’s throwing a punch,” Danny tells him and then looks at me. “We’re square, right?”
I lift a chin, not fully committing, because although I’m not gonna hit him, I’m not sure how square we actually are.
“Kal Seward? How did you guys allow Whit to end up with his ring on her finger?”
Marks hits the turn signal, pulls into the hotel’s lot, and throws it in park in front of the hotel entrance.
He turns in his seat and looks at me. “You needed to do your thing, Pope, and we understand. We all gave you the space to do that. You did a season in the majors, and we all hung back, cheering you on. You come back here and start dissing our life choices? Nah, man.” He opens the door and climbs out.
I glance at Danny, who holds out a fist that I simply look at.
“Bump it.”
I do so begrudgingly.
“I’ll pick your ass up at seven so you can grab your rental and do whatever you need to do. I get out of work at four. We’ll meet up then.”
“Yeah, man. Yeah.”
Marks opens the door for me, and I slide out.
After shutting it behind me, I give as close to an apology as I can muster today. “Not trying to start shit.”
“Understood,” he says, rounding the front of the patrol car. “You’ll get it tomorrow when you inevitably run into Whit and give her shit about that ring.” He opens his door and taps the roof of the car. “Go easy on her. She’s a single mom and doing the best she can.”
I’m not sure what the hell is happening right now, but I’m pretty damn positive I’m on another fucking planet or in an alternate universe because I didn’t drink enough to have imagined that Marks just said Whit was a mother.
By the time I’ve wrapped my head around the fact that I wasn’t hearing things, Marks is rolling out of the parking lot.
I grab my phone from my jacket pocket to give him a call so I can get fucking answers, only to see the damn thing is dead. As I make my way inside, I also realize I don’t have my key card for my hotel room. It’s in the rental that Marks was supposed to drive me back here in. Walking to the front desk to ask for another card, I’m happy to see a man behind the counter because I could in no way pull off being a gentleman right now.
