"No, Tiff," Dwayne shot back. "I didn't go to the funeral because Ricky Dale was a douche. And on a very deep level, I just don't give a f.u.c.k." Dwayne took a long pull from the joint and blew a perfect smoke ring to the middle of the dining room table. The ladies watched it all the way, until it finally disappeared into the air.

"Pretty f.u.c.kin' sweet, eh, Janice?" Dwayne remarked to the pastor's wife. "You wanna hit this s.h.i.t?"

Janice was appalled. He winked and blew her a kiss.

"Anyhow, ladies, I know you've got some praying to do." Dwayne headed to his throne in the living room. "I'll let you get back to it. If any of you wanna get high, I'll be watching the tube and twisting fatties in the next room."

Estelle hung somewhere between embarra.s.sed and aroused as she heard Dwayne plunk down in the next room on his recliner. That noise was followed with the twisting Fssst! sound of a beer cap coming off a bottle, along with the sound of that cap being tossed, bouncing, and then rolling across the hardwood floor.

"Let me know when your friends leave, sweetie!" Dwayne called out to Estelle. "Daddy's feeling frisky!"

Estelle squirmed a bit, waiting for someone to change the subject. The prolonged awkward silence was broken by Brenda White, heiress to the White Oil fortune. "So, I'm going in to see Dr. Tom tomorrow," she proclaimed with her nose tilted upward as she sipped from her merlot. "He's got this new cutting edge diet injection I've been dying to try. I think it's rabbit s.e.m.e.n."

"Oooh, I heard that's good," Tiffany replied.

"Dr. Tom has been giving me an iguana s.e.m.e.n cream I've been rubbing on my face for the last several months," added Linda Honeycut, of Honeycut Land and Cattle fame. "It works fantastic."

"Amazing, Linda. Your skin looks great," said Janice. "I guess I never realized how powerful different s.e.m.e.ns were."

"You should see what it does for your teeth!" Dwayne yelled from the other room.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group again. Estelle had been having a difficult time joining her friends in conversation. She couldn't quit thinking about Dwayne's new att.i.tude. What had come over him? He'd never approved of the social climbers she ran with, but he'd always kept it to himself. He'd just kept his head down and worked. He had apparently decided to discard the silent approach and now offered a large middle finger to those he disapproved of. And it really turned her on.

"So did any of you hear about Pete Reardon?" Tiffany asked the ladies.

"Ewwww, the Walmart guy?" Janice responded.

"Yes, him," Tiffany said. "He got abducted from work early this morning."

Estelle's ears perked up.

"Oh, that poor dear, who's going to bring home the $1800 per month to support his family now?" Linda smirked.

The ladies began to snicker. All except Estelle. She was snickering too, but she was faking it. The guy she'd been slumming it with behind Dwayne's back had gone missing early that morning ... and Dwayne hadn't arrived home until almost five.

"Oh, great, let's just add them to the welfare pool now!" Janice said, with a hint of disgust at the idea of poor people. "I swear, the Democrats are going to sink this country."

"So what happened to him?" Estelle asked Tiffany before the political talk had a chance to gain momentum.

"They don't know. A friend of Ricky Dale's told me at the funeral. He made it to work in the wee hours of the morning but never made it inside the Walmart. His car was there with the trunk wide open, and his office papers were all over the place. No one saw a thing. He's just gone."

Estelle excused herself and walked into the kitchen, trying to wrap her head around what she'd just heard. She opened the medicine cabinet above the microwave and pulled out her Xanax. She popped three.

As soon as she left the room, Estelle could hear the ladies begin to whisper about Dwayne. These were her best friends, and yet she knew that they would turn on her in a heartbeat.

Estelle peeked into the living room where Dwayne was lounging in his recliner. She was amused as he pumped his fist in the air at the sight of an alligator s.n.a.t.c.hing a baby deer from the bank of a river. Who was this guy? What had he been up to? Was she falling in love with her husband again, after years of shutting each other out? Was his "f.u.c.k these people" att.i.tude contagious? Because she felt like she was catching it, too.

Dwayne looked back over the top of the recliner and saw Estelle standing in the kitchen, staring at him. He smiled at her.

"Hey, baby," he said.

"Hey," she said back.

"You wanna get high and watch Shark Week with me?"

"I'd love to."

Estelle walked into the dining room, where the elite ladies of Fort Worth were seated, with Dwayne following closely behind. She could tell she'd interrupted them talking about her. She'd been on the other side of that so many times.

"Sorry, girls, I'm going to have to cut this prayer group short," Estelle said as she shrugged her shoulders with a fake smile. "Dwayne and I haven't had a chance to spend much time together lately, so we thought we'd hang out a little and catch up."

Dwayne pinched Estelle's a.s.s discreetly as the ladies looked at one another disapprovingly. They began to gather their things.

"You know, Dwayne, we'd love to have you join one of our Bible study groups one day," Janice sneered. "It might do you some good, judging by the path you're on."

In the past, Dwayne might have walked away. He might have made a crack before he walked away, but he normally would have let these women get away with their comments. That was how the social circles worked. Everyone feared the consequences of their rejection. The old Dwayne would have walked away. But this wasn't the old Dwayne.

"You know, Janice," Dwayne started in, "I'm pretty sure if Jesus were here today, he would want absolutely nothing to do with you and your group of hypocritical, backstabbing, social-climbing b.i.t.c.hes. Have you ever even read the Bible? I'm not a particularly religious guy, but I've read it. Where does it talk about how you're supposed to be fake, and s.h.i.t on the little people? Where does it talk about how you're supposed to constantly sit in judgment with your friends, and gossip? Where does it talk about showing off how much money you have, while criticizing those who don't have as much? Where does it cover getting f.u.c.king hammered on booze and pills all day, while talking about the lifestyles of others as if yours is superior? Where does it talk about raising your kids to be arrogant, superior, bigoted s.h.i.ts with no moral compa.s.s other than that guided by the almighty dollar? You want me to tell you where that is in the Bible? It's nowhere. If Jesus were here right now, he'd pimp-slap you. So thanks for the invite, Janice, but I'd rather not subject myself to the advice of you and your soul-corroding heathen friends."

Janice appeared as though she'd just been punched by Mike Tyson. She looked at Estelle. "Are you just going to stand there and let him get away with that?"

"Well," Estelle replied, as she subtly reached her arm behind herself and grabbed Dwayne's package. "It's like they say in the Bible. Women have to listen to their man, or they get stoned. Or something like that."

"Oh, she's gonna get stoned alright," Dwayne grinned through his Ray-Bans. "So, without further ado, don't let the door hit ya where the Lord split ya, if you catch my drift."

The ladies were paralyzed. They had stepped into an alternate dimension where their s.h.i.t actually did stink.

"Seriously," he continued. "Please, get the f.u.c.k out. I have to sacrifice some a.s.s to the Lord."

Janice and her crew shuffled out the front door, slamming it behind them. Dwayne felt phenomenal. He had just said pretty much everything he'd ever wanted to say to them. It gave him a complete endorphin rush.

He spun Estelle around and kissed her pa.s.sionately before she had an opportunity to say anything. He extended his arm across the dining room table and sent wine bottles, gla.s.ses, cheese, crackers, and place settings flying across the room and crashing into the wall. Dwayne was happy that he had listened to Estelle about buying the big, st.u.r.dy, expensive antique table. He reached his hands beneath her b.u.t.t cheeks and lifted her up onto it, where they made love for the next two hours.

That night, after Alex came home and finished his homework, Dwayne tucked him into bed with the feeling that the baseball team was going to be A-OK. He had concocted a plan, and he was ready to put it into place.

He would start with a group email to the parents of all team members. On the computer in his bedroom, Dwayne clicked the compose message tab, and began: Greetings, Team Parents- This is Dwayne Devero, Alex's dad. I know we're all heartbroken at the loss of Coach Dale. He will always be remembered as one of the finest furniture salesmen in the great state of Texas. I was told his funeral was an excellent tribute. Now I have learned that Coach Pete, who had n.o.bly stepped in to fill Coach Dale's shoes, has gone missing. Our thoughts and prayers are with the Rearden family in this time of uncertainty. It is my belief that the best way to honor these two great men is to keep playing baseball. They would want it that way, I'm sure. I have decided, through much prayer and soul searching, to take over the position as head coach. I will be a.s.sisted by Russ Paisley, Dr. Tom Johnson, and Steve Winwood (no relation to the singer/songwriter). It is my personal goal to honor both our fallen coach and our coach who disappeared under questionable circ.u.mstances with a championship win. As you know, in this age bracket, every team makes the playoffs. It is my intention to win our final regular season game and go undefeated in the playoffs. It's a lofty goal, but mark my words, we will accomplish it. We will have practice tomorrow at the ballpark at 5:30 p.m., and we have a game the following day at 6:00 p.m. So let's get pumped up! GO TIGERS!

-Dwayne Devero Dwayne pushed send. He grinned. He felt good about things. He looked over at Estelle, who was sleeping. For the first time in ages, she'd fallen asleep from her body being thoroughly ravished by her husband, and not by taking a handful of pills washed down with Cabernet.

Quack. Quack. Quack.

Dwayne picked up his phone. The texting had begun.

STEVE:.

GO TIGERS??? Are you kidding me?

DWAYNE:.

Too much team spirit?

STEVE:.

They just put RD in the ground today! Was that necessary?

DWAYNE:.

If we want to turn this team around and dominate the playoffs, then we don't have time to act like a bunch of p.u.s.s.ies, Steve.

STEVE:.

Jesus, Dwayne, they're 10 years old!

RUSS:.

I liked it. Way to take life by the b.a.l.l.s.

TOMMY:.

Maybe a little harsh and poorly timed.

RUSS:.

Whatever, Tiberius. Go back to watching B.E.T.

TOMMY:.