Page 48 of Room 4 Rent

A long foul ball that is usually close to being fair, and typically, would result in a home run if it were fair.

CASON

After leaving Sydney’s house for the second time and being chased by her neighbor’s dog, I head to Ez’s house. I still haven’t turned on my cell phone since I shut it off earlier. I knew after the game I had, there’d be people talking, but I didn’t expect what happened last night. Agents, scouts I’d never heard from, and people I knew growing up but lost touch with were all calling me.

I didn’t want to deal with reality at the moment. I think that’s why I enjoyed my time with Sydney so much. She didn’t care who I was, or the game I had, or that I had three different offers from major league teams on my voicemail from before last night’s game.

She might even know who my dad is, but not once did she mention it. Hell, other than the baseball innuendos and the Tesla incident, we didn’t talk about the game I’ve spent my entire life playing.

I loved that.

It’s quiet for a Sunday morning. Originally from Ensenada, the Rossi family lives right on the cut off of this shady as fuck neighborhood with the cross streets of “you sleep with a knife and your eyes open.” Usually, Luca, his uncle, is out in the driveway washing God knows what off his car. Last week he was scrubbing blood out of his floor mats in the bathtub, so you really never know what to expect when you show up.

Like this morning. With my coffee in hand and feeling pretty fucking good about this morning, that quickly goes out the damn window.

No lie, his uncle is covered in blood, I’m almost certain that’s brain on his flannel, and he’s carrying a shovel. “Heard you had a good game.”

“Uh, yeah.” I’ll admit, his uncle terrifies me. Masking my nervousness, I lift the cup in my hand and take a drink.

He steps forward, and the shovel bumps against my shoes. His black eyes look into my soul.

It’s a good thing I had sex last night because I think I’m about to die.

We’re standing next to his car, and it looks about as bad as he does. Someone died in there last night. I’m sure of it. It’s everything I can do to keep from scrunching my nose at the smells coming from his car that has the doors open.

Working his jaw back and forth, he dips his chin and catches my terrified eyes. Licking his lips, he whispers, “Keep your mouth shut about what you see here, or I’ll break your million-dollar arm.”

I swallow hard. “Noted.”

His hand hits my chest. “There’s muffins on the counter. Eat them.” And then he walks away. Just like that. Most bizarre shit I’ve seen out of him yet.

One. I’m not eating any fucking muffins from this joker. Two. I need to find a place to live. Now.

Inside the house, Ez is eating muffins with that damn robe on. “My aunt made peanut butter muffins.”

“I’m not a peanut butter fan. And when the fuck did your aunt show up?” Believe it or not, Luca’s married. His wife is about as friendly as a pissed off mama bear. They have a kid together too. His name is Lucifer.

I’m kidding. But they do have a kid, and his name is something I can’t pronounce. They call him Tony for short. Do you see that kid in the backyard holding a scorpion with kitchen tongs and looking like he’s about to spit down its throat? That’s Tony.

Spitting image of his father, huh? Last time I saw this kid, he lit my jeans on fire. While I was wearing them.

“Fuck you,” Ez says, shoving a muffin in my direction. “It’s peanut butter. Every buddy loves it.”

I keep my eyes on Tony in the backyard and shove my clothes into a bag. “I don’t.”

“Try it.”

“No.” I push the muffin out of my face, crumbs falling all over my clean shirt. “I gotta get out of here.”

“Okay.” Sitting down on the couch, he crosses his legs and eats the muffin himself. “So you fuck that MILF or what?”

Images of last night certainly don’t disappoint, but I’m never one to kiss and tell. “Nah, I took her home.”

His laughter bursts through the small house. “Bullshit.”

He tries harder by egging me on. “That ass though. I’d certainly make the bald man cry with images of that.”

Standing up, I toss my bag near the door and look around the house for what I’m missing. “What the fuck does that mean?”

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