"Good morning, Stella!" Misty calls out from behind the counter.
"Hey, girl." I slip my apron over my head and quickly give her a hug. I work at Shawmut Diner, and it’s slamming this morning. The place has been around for years and when the previous owner, who happens to be a family member of Misty’s, could no longer take care of it she took it over and has been running it for about the last five years. "Sorry I'm a few minutes late. The bus ran late picking DJ up this morning, and to boot, he has his first baseball practice tonight."
"Girl, you know it's not a problem. I know what it's like to be a single mom. I just got lucky and found Briggs. I also know about practice because he and Mason are on the same team. Since Mason will be at your place, will you bring them to practice and I’ll meet you there?" Briggs is her second husband and a great guy. He adores her and her kids. He owns the general store in town. It's one of those places where you can get almost anything you need for your home all in one place.
"Thanks, and of course that’s not a problem." I get a pot of coffee brewing when the bell above the door rings.
“Good morning,” I say with a smile, and the same brilliant smile I see every morning greets me back. This man has been coming into this diner every morning since I started working here. The first day I saw him he looked tired and almost grumpy, but when our eyes met his lit up, and he’s been greeting me with a smile since.
“Good morning, sugar. Can I get my usual?”
Trystan has been calling me sugar from day one. Typically that’s the type of thing that really annoys me, but coming from him, that sweet little accent ringing out from his lips it turns me to moosh. He flirts with me every morning, and every morning my response is the same, “Have a great day.” It’s all I can ever manage. I don’t know what it is about him, but he makes me all jittery.
He wiggles his eyes and says, “You too.” I can’t help but watch him walk out the door. Misty told me to watch out for him. She’s heard that he’s the town stud. His name is Trystan, and I keep saying I will introduce myself but I have yet to do it. I chuckle, realizing that after about six months of making the man his coffee it may be weird to introduce myself now. We’ve both done bits of flirting but never made it to the formality. To be honest, as much as I’d love for that man to clean out them cobwebs, I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now.
Some of our regulars come walking in making me realize he’s early today. I shake off my thoughts and get busy tending to our ole timers. The people in this town are pretty amazing. I grew up in New York City and was fine there until Dylan was murdered. He was walking home from work one evening when he was mugged. They stabbed him several times and left him in an alley to die all alone. After that, I decided the city wasn't where I wanted to raise my kid. I wanted a place where he could have fun with other kids. The bus picks him up every morning, and he gets home before me. In a town like this I don't have to stress him being home alone. Where we came from, there wasn't a chance in hell I could let him be home by himself. He is good friends with Misty's oldest son, Mason, so the two of them go to my house after school to do their homework. They're sixth graders and in the same class, so it works out well.
"Stella, can I get some more coffee when you have a minute?" Fred, one of our old timers, calls out.
"Sure thing. I'll be right there, Fred." We have a crew of men we call the old timers crew. They’re all retired and most of them have served in Vietnam. I believe they are a mix of Army and Navy, but they literally sit in this diner for most of the morning drinking coffee and shooting the shit. I have no idea how they come up with that much stuff to talk about, but they do. A few of them work part time around town, but it's usually for a few hours in the afternoon. I grab the pot of coffee and greet them. "Good morning, gentlemen."
"Good morning, pretty lady." I chuckle as I refill their cup.
"Charlie, what did I tell you?"
"I don't know." He shrugs. "I'm three quarters deaf you know." I throw my head back laughing. He's not really three quarters deaf but he loves to flirt with me, and every time I remind him he is far too old for me he acts like he can't hear me.
I pat him on the shoulder. "I bet you would hear me if I told you to come over for dinner."
"Only if you said you were dessert."
My eyes go wide. "You are a dirty old man." I plant a hand on my hip.
"Damn right. I'm old not dead."
I shake my head and call over my shoulder, "You need to hit up bingo this weekend. There are some women your age who would love to date you."
He starts to grumble as he does every time I say that. The town has bingo at the church every Friday night, but it's mainly filled with women. Some of the men go, but Charlie and his crew stay away. There's a few women there who like them, but they’re not impressed. As a matter of fact, there was a rumor floating around that Charlie and Betty had a thing for a while, but Betty couldn't keep up with him so he broke up with her.
I'm starting a new pot of coffee when Misty comes up behind me. "Charlie flirting with you again?"
"Yeah, that man needs to stop popping Viagra." Misty cracks up laughing. "You laugh but that man needs to stop." She shakes her head.
The remainder of the shift is a whirlwind of activity. This is the place to go for breakfast and lunch. Misty isn't open for dinner and we're out of here by three p.m. The kids get out of school at two thirty, so it works out great.
"Mr. Shepard. Please step forward," the judge calls out. I can't believe I'm sitting in a courtroom. I got pulled over for drinking and driving, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't talk myself out of having my car towed. I need to thank my lawyer who couldn't be here because he's busy with another case. Fucking bastard, some friend he is. With a sigh, I step forward and approach the empty table that is waiting for me.
"Here, Your Honor."
"Mr. Shepard, where is your attorney?" This guy has been the judge in this town since I was a child. He knows Caleb is one of my best friends and should be here to represent me.
My brows shoot up, shocked that he cares. "He couldn't be here today, Your Honor. He's dealing with another case."
"So be it. We’re here today because you were pulled over for driving while under the influence of alcohol. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I only had a few drinks, Your Honor." I shrug it off, but he doesn’t look amused.
"Mr. Shepard, just because you’ve served our wonderful country, doesn't mean you can get away with drinking and driving." The judge looks down at a piece of paper and then looks back at me. "Being that you were on your way to semi-pro ball, here's what I'm going to offer you.” He pauses for a moment. “Our town has recently lost one of its little league coaches." I roll my eyes. Here we go. "You can either step up and coach the team this year as community service, or you can spend the next six months in jail. Choice is yours."
"Are you serious right now? What kind of choice is that?" I bark out. I’m going to kill Billy for this. It was my choice to drive, but I did it so he wouldn’t.
A smile spreads across his face. "Which will you choose, Mr. Shepherd?"
I exhale a deep breath. "Fine, I’ll coach baseball."
"Good, here you go. The season starts in four weeks. You better start contacting your team." He holds out a piece of paper that is handed to me by one of the court officers. I look at the sheet to see a list of names, addresses, and phone numbers.
My eyes shoot up to meet his. "You planned this?" I question.
He shrugs. "Not until I saw you on my docket. These kids need a coach, and I think they’ll be just as good for you as you’ll be for them. Now get out of my courtroom before I change my mind and lock you up." I start to walk away, but he calls out to me. "Oh and, Mr. Shepard."
I turn back to him and respond, “Yes, Your Honor.”
"Step foot in my courtroom again and I won't be so easy on you."
I nod and then storm out of the courtroom and down to sign the papers that state I agree to the terms of my court-mandated community service. Caleb is going to hear about this.
"Name," the woman behind the desk shouts out.
Running my fingers through my thick, overgrown hair I mumble, "Trystan Shepherd."
I finally look up at her to find a huge smile on her face. "Oh, hey, Trystan. What have you been up to? I haven’t seen you in forever." She bats her lashes at me.
I roll my eyes. "Same shit different day."
She's gushing as she hands me my paperwork and tells me to sign in the appropriate spots. I don't even know this woman's name. She looks familiar and clearly she knows me.
With her hands shaking, she bats her lashes yet again. "I'll be right back," she purrs her voice, showing how anxious she really is before walking away to make me a copy of the paperwork. I let out a deep breath wanting nothing more than to get away from this woman. She is just one more over-eager toothpick ready to jump into bed with me. She has no idea what my life is like, what I've been through, and she has no desire to know. Women throw themselves at me all the time, and it's disgusting. I mean, I know I'm good looking and if it weren't for the deployment and the injury to my ankle, I’d probably be playing at least semi-pro ball right now. But seriously, have some self-respect. You're probably thinking that I'm a pompous asshole, but I'm not. No, seriously. I was born and raised here in Stonehill, a small town in the middle of nowhere, West Virginia, and trust me—I wasn't joking when I said that everyone in this town knows everyone's business. It first started when everyone found out that my ex, Sophia, cheated on me while I was away at boot camp, but it got worse when my unit returned home from an overseas mission. The women were crawling all over us wanting nothing more than to be with the ‘hometown hero,’ as they labeled me upon my return. I had decided I had seen enough after my last deployment and got out. Now, I’m an everyday carpenter. Don’t get me wrong, I stay in shape, but that’s not why they want me.
"Here you go, stud." She hands me an envelope with my paperwork in it. "I added a sticky note with my phone number. Let's get together sometime." I shake my head and walk away not saying a word. If she only knew how many phone numbers I've collected. Shit, I could make a new town phone book with them all.
My shithead attorney approaches as I’m leaving the courthouse. "Well, if it isn't my best friend slash attorney finally coming to see me. It’s sad we don’t get to see each other and when I finally need you, you leave me hanging, you asshole." Caleb and I have known each since elementary school. We started playing little league baseball together and managed to stay on the same team until we got to high school. He started playing football, but I stuck with baseball. I tried to convince him to play both, but he said he needed the off-season to workout and recover from the beatings his body took on the field. He went to college on a football scholarship, then went to law school and is now an attorney. He always said he would back me as my lawyer even though he’s moved and lives about an hour and a half away.
I went to community college but wanted to serve my country too, so I joined the National Guard as a 12W, Carpentry Specialist. I'm great with my hands, in more ways than one if you know what I mean. Things were going great until my guard unit got called up and I had to deploy to Afghanistan.
He throws his head back in laughter, pulling me from my thoughts. "I was warned to stay out of the courtroom for this one." Cal put his arm over my shoulder. "You ready to coach some baseball?"
"Dude! You fucking knew?" I shove him off of me, sending him flying off the steps. He's tall, standing about two inches taller than my five-foot-eleven, but he's not as bulky as he once was.
"Yeah. Judge Mackey called me, told me the situation and said he thought this would be good for you. You know if you fuck this up he's going to throw your ass in jail, right?"
I shake my head. "Fuck my life," I growl as we walk toward his car.
He's still laughing at my expense, and it's pissing me off. "Come on. I'll take you to get your car before they charge you a fortune in storage fees." It's already going to cost me a pretty penny. They towed my car, and it's been sitting at the impound lot since Friday evening. We're talking three days of storage fees at probably fifty dollars a day plus whatever they charge me for the towing. God knows what else they'll tack on.
I can't help but stare out the window as he drives me to get my car. He's sitting in silence, and the tension is thick. "Listen, I know you. This will be good for you." He finally breaks the quiet.
"How is this going to be good for me? I don't know the first thing about how to deal with kids, and you know our town. This team is filled with kids whose parents either have money and just want a place to dump them while they’re out having fun, or as poor as shit and couldn't care less what their kids are doing. There’s no happy medium here, not to mention I’m not the one who needs help and you know it.”
"First, all you do is work and sit in that house of yours like a hermit. Second, that makes you coaching them that much more important." He stops at a red light and looks at me. "Dude, you may not have come from money, but your mother was never around and you don’t even know your father. These kids will need an adult figure in their life, someone to look up to and who will be there for them. You know what life is like in this town. You were the kid who walked across town to get to practice because you wanted to play so bad."
Damn fucking right I was. My mother was a single mom raising a stubborn son. I was a happy kid who didn't care if I had the best things in life as long as I could play baseball. My mama busted her ass to ensure I had what I needed to play, but she was never around to take me to practices and hardly ever made it to my games. My father left when my mom was pregnant, and we've never heard from him again. She won't even tell me who he is. She says she doesn't know, but I think she's full of shit. She screwed up getting pregnant with me when she was twenty-one, but she was never one to sleep around. I was lucky that she at least cared enough to provide for me and keep food in the house despite the fact she was never home. She was always off either working or hanging with friends. She brought another man into our house one time and one time only. The bastard tried to beat me until I grabbed my bat and swung at him to defend myself. She came into the room, saw my black eye, and kicked him out. Told him if he ever came near either of us again, she'd let me use him for batting practice again.
“Third, I know you’re not the one with the problem and we’ll deal with him, but I still think this will be good for you. It’ll give you something to do in your downtime.” I hear him talking, but it’s all white noise right now. “Earth to Trystan," Cal calls out, bringing me back from my thoughts. "Dude, get the fuck out of my car. I have to get going."
"Thanks for the ride." I climb out of his precious Jaguar, slamming the door hard to piss him off. That's payback for leaving me high and dry today. He flips me off and spins his tires, kicking up dirt as he leaves the parking lot.
When I get inside, there's Barney kicked back in a chair with his feet up. "Ready to get your car back, hot shot?" Barney, the town dick head, is a total waste of space just like he was as a kid. He’s the town bully. Always fucking with everyone, and he's never going to change. Ignoring him, I pull my wallet from my back pocket, slip my credit card from the slot, and toss it onto his desk. He rolls his eyes, pissed off that he didn't get a rise out of me. He grabs the card, swipes it through the machine, and tosses me a pen along with the slip I need to sign to get my car. I quickly scribble my name on the line and toss the paper and pen back at him. He hands me my card and keys. The entire transaction is done with nothing else said. I walk out to find my cherry red Corvette sitting next to some piece of shit car that’s covered with dirt. My eyes scan the car to ensure he didn't fuck it up because God help him if there is one scratch on her. My house isn't anything fancy, shit, neither are my clothes, but my Corvette is something I took pride in choosing. I have this and a truck that I use for work. This car cost me some loot, but she was well worth it. Once I'm satisfied, I climb in, put the top down and bolt out of the parking lot. It's a nice day, and there's nothing I like more than driving with the top down.
After a brief ride around town, I find myself by the park where I once played ball and will now be coaching a bunch of ten to twelve-year-olds. It's empty, not a soul to be found. It's sad really. When I was growing up, this place was always full of children and laughter, kids swinging on the swings, a game of stickball going at the diamond. It didn't matter what side of the tracks you were from or how shitty life was, for the most part, we all got along and had a good time. I let out a deep breath. Now I have to figure out how to pull this group together and make them a team. I slam my car into gear and pull away from the curb. When I finally arrive home, I put the top up and climb out.
"Hey," some kid calls, out walking across the street with his boys.
"Yeah." I'm taking a defensive stance, ready in case these punks try something.
He stops just in front of me and looks me up and down. "I heard you're our new coach."
"Maybe I am. You have a problem with that?"
The kid chuckles and looks over at his friends before eyeing me once again. "Not if you're actually going to care. Our old coach didn’t give a shit about us. He would leave us hanging for practices and blew us off for some of the games."
My brows furrow. "Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?" I cross my arms over my chest.
"My mama couldn't give a fuck what comes out of my mouth." He mocks me, crossing his arms over his chest.
I shake my head. This is going to be interesting. "I do. You gather your friends and tell them to be at the field tomorrow evening at six p.m. We'll see what you got."
. "You're in for a real treat.” He shakes his head, a cocky sneer on his face. “We're like the bad news bears." He taps his friend on the chest and says, “Let’s go.”
"Wait." He turns back. "How did you know I was the new coach?"
"The judge is my granddaddy."
Great. That means the judge is going to be all over my ass and now not only do I have to coach a little league team, but it’s a bunch of kids that don't know how to play baseball. What the hell did I get myself into? I shake my head as I lock my vehicle and head into the house. It's a small home near the center of town. It’s nothing fancy, but it's mine. I have some things to do before practice tomorrow, like tidy up and email all the parents. I also have to get ready for work tomorrow; having to take the day off to go to court didn't exactly please my boss. Lucky for me, he is a good friend and he knows what happened, so he just busted my balls. He too grew up here and carried on his family’s small construction company. He was happy to hire me to work for him when I got back. He handles all the town’s small jobs. My phone vibrates in my back pocket as I finish opening the shades to let some sun in. When I pull my phone from my pocket, I see a text from a random number.
I hear you've already started to fulfill your court order. There's equipment in the storage shed waiting for you. You can pick it up at five thirty tomorrow evening. Someone will be waiting.
I throw my head back in laughter. I'm willing to bet the judge’s grandson has already told him that he spoke to me. That family has money, and he's probably one of the brats in this town that has had everything handed to him. I'm also willing to bet he is going to be the kid that will cause me the most trouble. Looking back at the message, I bet he means the old beat up shed by the park. That shed has been around longer than I have and despite the fact it has a lock, the thing can be accessed quite easily. You can blow on the door and it would fall off of the old hinges. I'm not sure how the judge thinks this is going to help me. The near miss crash I had Friday night was scarier than coaching this group of kids, but I'll play his game to stay out of jail.
Once I've put out the trash, I grab my laptop and pull the paper he gave me from my back pocket. It has a list of fifteen kids’ names, phone numbers, and their email addresses. This is the moment I'm glad I paid attention in school when the teachers told us we would need to learn how to type and use computers. I boot up the laptop and log into Gmail, creating an email strictly for the team. Then I send the first email, putting a start to my community service.
Hello team,
I am your new coach, and our first practice will be at the town’s field tomorrow at six p.m. Please be there five minutes prior with cleats and any equipment that you own.
Coach Trystan