Tommy then looked over at Russ, who had turned almost blue from holding in his chuckles. He looked at Dwayne, who offered a sympathetic smile. He turned his attention to Steve, sitting beside him, who was still clutching his putter and looking scared s.h.i.tless of Tom.

"Hang on just a second," Tommy continued. "So, I just drove a golf cart into the pond to find the two b.a.l.l.s I hit into it. I putted the ball over twenty times. I've seen at least a half dozen birds flying backwards in the last minute, and I'm pretty sure there's a panda in that tree over there playing Metallica on a saxophone. Sooooo ... I'm guessing I should say thanks for the LSD, Russ."

Russ burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he started wheezing.

"I was hoping to have a serious conversation about keeping our s.h.i.t together and following a code," Dwayne stated. "But I guess that talk will have to happen later. Just try and hold it together at the game tonight, guys. We're getting close to winning this thing, and Steve is right about one thing. The cops are watching."

The rest of the round of golf went as rounds of golf with the baseball dads typically went, with the exception of Tommy. Dwayne, Russ, and Steve each achieved varying levels of inebriation, as usual. Tommy was an overachiever, though. He rode on the roof of the cart for the entire back nine with his legs dangling over the front windshield.

Russ won the golf game with a 72. Dwayne got a 113, and Steve got a 115. Tommy finished with a 121, but he didn't play the last seven holes.

"Russ, you get the honor of dropping Tommy off at his house, since you dosed him," Dwayne said at the end of the game. "Tell Kelly to get some food in him and keep him in front of a television. Maybe throw on some cartoons. Nothing with clowns."

Dwayne left the country club mildly disappointed. Russ and Tommy had begun to take the Jedi lifestyle out of context, and it was bothering him. They had little desire to use their powers for justice. They just wanted to use them for self-gratification. It was a recipe for disaster. And as much as Dwayne knew that he currently had a great relationship operating above suspicion with the police, he was no longer certain of what the future held for the Jedi Alliance.

Steve, while overboard in his paranoia, may have been onto something. Dwayne felt like he wouldn't be doing right by his family if he didn't at least prepare for the possibility that the world could come crashing down around them. He had an amazing family and a baby on the way. For the first time since becoming a Grandmaster Caped Crusader Jedi Ninja, Dwayne was scared. He had forgotten what it was like to have uncertainty. He needed a way to quell it.

What Dwayne needed was a backup plan, just in case the proverbial s.h.i.t hit the fan. He had to plan an escape. Just in case.

To make matters worse, there was yet another envelope sitting on Dwayne's seat when he opened the door to his truck. On it was written, "How long until they know what you're up to?" He didn't even open the envelope this time; he just threw it in the glove box.

Yup, he needed a plan. He wouldn't allow his chest to tighten up, even though it wanted to. He had to win the championship. He had to stay focused. He slapped himself hard across the face. "Get your f.u.c.king head in the game, Dwayne!" he yelled into the mirror. "Don't f.u.c.king lose it now! You're close, man! You're close!"

Instead of heading straight home, Dwayne made sure he wasn't being followed and then made his way to the local RV dealership. He scoured the lot with an obnoxious, brown-toothed salesman, who wore a tan polyester suit straight out of the early '80s, until they came upon the most bada.s.s RV Dwayne had ever seen.

Dwayne used his ninja powers to grind the salesman down to an amazing deal and, after two hours of haggling, signed the paperwork. Dwayne let him know that either he or his a.s.sistant would return within a couple of days to pick the RV up.

He called Uzi as soon as he got back in his truck.

"Wa.s.s crack-a-lackin', boss man?" Uzi asked.

"You want to make some more cheddar, my man?"

"Always, Big D. Whatchoo got?"

"I need your email address. I'm going to send you pa.s.sport photos of my wife, my son, and myself. I need new ident.i.ties, a new credit profile, and new credit cards, brother."

"I got your back, homie. Anything I need to be aware of?"

"Not yet. I just live by a code, man. I see that code in you too, bro. I hope you stick with it. The other guys aren't quite cutting it. I need to be prepared, man. And this stays between us."

"No worries. How quick you need 'em?"

"A couple of days."

"Coolio, bro. My email is "

"Nice."

"Thanks."

"I'll leave a wad of cash in my mailbox tonight. Take care."

"Peace."

Dwayne's phone quacked immediately after hanging up with Uzi. He glanced down at it. It was the text chain again.

TOMMY:.

hsgdybkwhsk&&&88%%#@$

STEVE:.

Nice job, Russ.

RUSS:.

LOL.

TOMMY:.

monkeeeeeeeeeey

DWAYNE:.

Okay, guys, be at the field at 5. We're playing the Mariners tonight. That's Pastor Harper's team. They're going to be our toughest opponents. We're the only two undefeated teams in the playoffs. We'll probably be seeing them in the championship game. Let's do this.

STEVE:.

No prob. I'd love to win the championship before my life sentence.

RUSS:.

Technically, I think this would be a death penalty case, Steve.

STEVE:.

Oh, right. Let's win it all before our lethal injections then, okay?

RUSS:.

And Tommy, just so you know, I'm totally drilling Kelly tonight.

TOMMY:.

fffffffffffuuuhhhyyyyyyyyyoooooo

DWAYNE:.

See you there. Don't f.u.c.k this up, guys.

RUSS:.

Later.