The Unofficial Zack Warren Fan Club (2 page)

Chloe Baker wasn’t just hot. Max liked to rile me. She was one of a kind, pretty and smart. I’d never seen another girl like her. Her hair color fell somewhere between burgundy and brunette. It was always shiny. She had an upturned nose and wide hazel eyes with thick black lashes. She was naturally attractive, almost earthy, and had a wacky sense of humor. Her witty comments caught most people off guard when they met her.

Kyle joined to me on the bench in the dugout. “Hey, you seem out of it.”

I shrugged. “Got a lot on my mind.”

“Dude, I feel you. Lana is driving me crazy.” Kyle fondly referred to himself as Halfrican American, because he was half black half white. I’d never heard the expression before. Kyle liked to make sure he was up to date on the latest urban phrases. But by the time they made it into his vocabulary, it was usually no longer cool to say them. He pointed to the group of girls sitting in a circle under the tree, passing a bag around. It looked like candy, but they didn’t eat it, and shoved little pink disks in their pockets or purses. “What are they doing?”

“Planning world domination?” The girls liked to meet each week in the same spot, weather permitting.

“Oh, wait. Now, look there.” He eyed the only guy in the whole group of girls. “How is he invited to their little powwow, and we’re not?”

“I bet he’s gay.”

“Seriously?”

We watched for a while longer, and when the guy stood, he had a distinctive sway to his hips…like a girl. His pink pants only made the image worse.

“What do they talk about?” I wondered if anyone actually knew. Most of the guys thought it was a book club. Only, where were the books?

“No clue.”

“You’ve never asked Lana?” His girlfriend was probably the most annoying gossip on campus, and the leader of that particular group.

“Lana doesn’t like to talk about her meetings.” Kyle reached for his sport drink.

“And why is that? What’s the big secret?”

“Oh, I don’t know, and I don’t care. She’s having fun, bosses me around less with all her girly minions to keep tabs on.” He grinned, taking a drink. “When we do talk, we let out bodies speak for us, and we’ll be doing a lot of communicating tonight.”

“I’m sorry I asked.” Kyle was…how could I put it nicely? Sex-crazed. But only when it came to Lana. He didn’t look at other girls. Last week we were at a party and some chick flashed the room. Kyle shrugged, saying Lana was sexier. Me, I felt kind of bad for the girl. She was never going to live that down. I had to pretend being flashed was the highlight of the night. If I had my way, I would have brewed a strong pot of coffee, sobered everyone up, and taken the girl home. But being hassled by a bunch of dicks wasn’t high on my list of things to do. So I sat, pretending to drink myself into oblivion and share in the fun.

“Why don’t you take out one of the Mason twins?” Kyle suggested. “Or, go for both. Blow off some steam and get out that frustration. Get laid, man. Trust me, it helps.”

“Who says I’m frustrated?” I crushed my water bottle and lobbed it into the trash.

“Actions speak for themselves.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ve got some stuff I have to deal with. I’m not going to have sex because of that. I’ll go for a run.” I rolled my eyes when he made an obscene gesture. “Cut it out.”

“You’re being a nun.”

“Seriously? A nun?”

“You’re probably the only guy on the team who still hasn’t given up the v-card.” He nodded toward Chloe. She’d stopped to talk to say high to a couple people outside the practice field. “What about that one? I see you checking her out.”

“No.” It’s not that I want to stay a virgin forever. I just didn’t feel it was the right time to do it. I had way to many things going on. And from what I heard the other guys talking about, and from what I saw. The girls tended to get clingy when sex was involved. “I’ll do it when I feel like it.”

“I said no,” and I know I’m not the only twenty-one-year-old virgin. For half the guys I knew it was just a bunch of talk. They were bullshitting everyone to save face.

“But why? What’s stopping you?” he asked. “I know you haven’t been with anyone because of her. She’s the reason why you keep your pants zipped. If you don’t ask her out, you’ll be waiting forever to tap that.”

“Something.” I eyed the guys around me, specifically, the ones that followed Max. This was a game I wanted no part of. Max and his idiots would target a girl and pick someone to have sex with her. See who put out easy, who was a nun, and if it took less time than the girl before. It was disgusting.

“We’re not going to have a problem, are we, Warren?” Max cracked his knuckles

Half the team evacuated the dugout, leaving Max and three of his guys with Kyle and me.

Tobey hovered in the doorway. He wouldn’t be much help in a fight. He weighed one thirty soaking wet, and only got on the team because I convinced coach to give him a chance. Which turned out in our favor.

I pushed off the bench. In three strides I was nose to nose with two hundred pounds of sweaty, smelly, ass hole. The thought of him getting near Chloe made my blood boil, and I had to dial down my temper. My reaction took me by surprise, too. But I didn’t stop to think on it. I’d go with my gut, analyze later. “You want to see if I’m kidding? I get that you think this is funny. Just wait till I’m really pissed—you won’t be laughing then.”

“So, the star player can talk the talk.” He backed up, grinning. “And here I thought you were just some pretty jock.”

“Watch it, McFarland. I’m not in the mood to fight.” He was trying to bate me, upset me to the point where it came to blows.

“I think I remember you calling Chloe a pain in the ass, not too long ago.” Max smirked, ignoring my warnings. “I’d like to be a pain in her—”

I pinned him to the chain link fence, fisting my hands in his shirt. “I know exactly what you like to get out of your games, and I’m sick of it.” I raised my voice, keeping Max firmly in place. “This goes for all of you. No more sex games if you like your spot on the team.”

Coach took what I said to heart. If I wanted someone off the team, it wouldn’t take much to convince him. And if my influence over coach didn’t stop Max, my extracurricular activities would. I practice martial arts—judo, karate, some street fighting, and even though Max was bigger, heavier, I’d flatten his fatty ass without breaking a sweat.

I kept this information to myself though. The only person who knew was Kyle. He only found out because I saved his neck a few months ago when he mouthed off in a bar. It was me against three bikers, bailing out his drunken butt with nothing but a broken pool stick. After that night, Kyle formed a theory that I’m a superhero disguised as a baseball player.

I had plenty of trophies and belts, but I wasn’t an attention whore. So I guess I had one thing in common with Clark Kent—no one knew what I did with my spare time.

Max wasn’t privy to the information. He thought his size was enough, and he was good at throwing his weight around. It worked on most people, but he was dead weight to me.

I headed for the locker room. If Max tried anything else, I’d talk to coach.

“Warren,” Coach said, speeding up his golf cart. He was old, suffered a broken hip earlier in the year. That didn’t make his approach to practice any easier. He could be a real ball buster.

I was looking forward to a shower, and a quiet Friday night—no parties, no games. But first I had to deal with the consequences. Coach probably saw Max and me, and he’d be interested to know what happened. Being captain didn’t mean I was above punishment.

“Hey, Coach.” I said.

His bushy gray eyebrows lowered. “You want to tell me why you had McFarland squished up against the fence? Little chucks of his hind squeezing out the holes?”

“Uh, well,” I stole a look at Chloe, finally walking toward the dorms. “I’m not sure how to explain.”

He leaned back, folding his hands over his asteroid sized stomach, following the direction of my gaze. “Oh, I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Basketball? If you blow that shoulder, you might as well kiss your chances of the major leagues goodbye. And you and I know you’re the top five to watch.” He cursed. “Those scouts are all over you son. Which is probably why McFarland is in a pissy mood.”

I lowered my voice, bending to his level. “I told you about it last month after you walked in on Max and a cheerleader in the storage closet. The sex game.”

“That game?” his eyes went wide, face purple. “I thought it was a joke!”

I shook my head. “No, no joke.”

“They actually pick girls to…and compare?” he was older, so I understood why he had trouble wrapping his head around sex game. Hell, I had trouble. I mean, I had urges like any other guy, but I wasn’t twisted like Max.

“I had a talk with them.”

“Uh-huh,” He had droopy eyes. Normally they weren’t very expressive, but coach was more perceptive than people gave him credit for, and right now the glint in them was unmistakable. “Must have been a special girl to get you so riled up.”

“Oh, she’s special alright…” a special pain in my ass.

“Anyone else does it again, they’re off the team.” He gave me a nod and his double chin wiggled. “Of course, I think the idea of being pummeled by you is a better deterrent. Not that you’d actually hurt anyone.”

“No, sir.” Okay, so maybe the coach knew a little bit about my extracurricular actives too. Though it was only because Kyle had to tell someone.

“Scare them?” he flexed his arm, smiling at an old navy tattoo.

“Maybe.”

“Ah, good man. But what else can you do? That’s the problem.” He frowned, fishing a lint-covered mint from his pocket. “We treat everyone the same and hope to god they learn a lesson from timeouts for bad behavior. In my day, getting the shit beat out of you meant something. Have a nice spring break. Stay out of trouble.”

After a cold shower in an empty locker room I made the two and a half hour drive home to find my dad had packed half the house and ordered pizza for dinner. He was pretty good in the kitchen; we just didn’t have the time to bother with cooking when all of our stuff was shoved in boxes. Though most of my things were back in my dorm at school, I didn’t mind spending my spring break helping him move.

“Hey sport, how was practice?” he asked, taping up a particularly large box marked for the office.

“Fine,” I said, throwing my backpack on the dining room table. In the corner I spied one small box he normally kept in the attic with a picture of my mom peeking out. Her smiling blue eyes beamed from across the room.

“I miss her too.” Dad stood beside me, mouth grimly set.

“Yeah, but she’d want you to be happy.” She died when I was in the sixth grade, a car accident. She’d want me to be happy too. And I am. Just, from time to time, I missed her. The anger I felt at first was unbearable. I didn’t know what to do with myself. My grades slipped. I got involved with a bad crowd. In the eighth grade I pulled a fire alarm to get out of a math test. Chloe happened to stumble across me in the hallway.