He asked me that a lot. Being from a family that could afford just enough, Josh couldn’t comprehend that there were zero obstacles if you had the funds. “Tiring,” was all I said.

“I could imagine. You’re going to take over for him one day, right?”

“Right.”

––––––––

“Alright, everyone! Lace up and start your laps!”

Practice for baseball was one of the few places I tried to clear my mind. Exercise and pistol whipping made up a lot of my time lately outside of keeping tabs on my new girl. I was protecting my grandfather’s investment in her mother in a way. Though, he wouldn’t see it that way.

Stay away from the Montgomery girl.

No thanks. That made her more tempting.

If only I could just feel how soft those lips were for once...

“Vaughn! Pick up the goddamned pace!” Coach blew the whistle, making everyone turn to watch my slow jog. “What the fuck is up with you today? Does baseball mean nothing to you?”

I hastened. “Sorry, coach!”

He shook his head, disappointed.

“Late night?” One of the guys taunted.

“Yeah, your mom knows how to tire a man out. I loved tag teaming her with Emily, too.”

Whoops, Oliver didn’t like that too much.

Oliver was the hot headed one. I never liked him much on or off the field. He was uptight and didn’t blend well with the team. Despite being a decent pitcher, the guy didn’t have much else going for him. The team hated his attitude.

“Hey, it’s not worth it,” one of the guys whispered to Oliver as he turned around and stopped in his tracks.

I prepped myself. The anger was already visible in his body movements as he stalked towards me.

“No. Fuck you!” His spit landed in my face.

Well, that was lovely. I needed a shower anyway. “Not into dudes, sorry.”

I ducked a fist coming in my direction; it was sloppy. It was always sloppy when they were emotional. Considering I mentioned his mom and girlfriend in the same sentence, I understood his outburst. I just didn’t care.

We played a cute game of him attempting punches and me dodging them. I really wished he would put up a better fight.

“What the fuck is your problem, Brent?”

I caught his hand and twisted, giving him a cruel smile. “The better question,” I shoved him to the ground. “Is what isn’t my problem?”

Practice was over. Coach blew the whistle, and my punishment was being sequestered away from the guys with a stop starting fights speech. Since The Dictator was richer than God, nothing happened to me.

Or any of the other rich brats here.

“Can we at least keep the fights to somewhere else? I’m trying to run a fucking baseball team, here.” Coach looked like he was at his wits end with us all.