Better to Believe (Harrison Campus 4)

“We took turns,” Liam said, a bit defensively. Coury couldn’t let it go.

“By ‘turns’ he meant I carried him for half a mile, Liam carried him half a block, rinse and repeat.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a liar.” He turned to his grandfather. “He only took him at the front of the house so I could get out my keys.”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about.” Amused, Coury avoided Liam’s glare. “Who carried him into the house? I mean that whole ‘possession being nine tenths’ is a real thing.”

“That’s very true,” Pop said. “Slider is very particular who he goes with.”

“Whatever! When’s your paper due? I just might be too busy to help.”

“Ouch. Kick a friend where it hurts, why don’t you.”

“As much fun as it is to watch you bicker like an old married couple, I need to feed Slider. We should also order the pizza.” He wrinkled his nose. “And you two need to hit the shower. It’s been a long time since I had to endure sweaty young men at the dinner table, and I prefer that streak not end any year soon.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Now who’s the drama queen?”

“I prefer grumpy old man.” Pop handed Liam a menu. “Tell me what you want and I’ll order while you shower.”

Pop went into the kitchen before they could answer.

“I guess he told us.” Coury pinched his T shirt. “But I probably could use a shower.”

“Yeah, me too.” Liam handed him the menu. “They have great pizza. I like most stuff. Give me a few options and I’m sure we’ll find something.”

* * *

The doorbell rang as Coury trotted down the stairs. “I’ll get it, Pop.”

“Thank you, Coury. I already paid and tipped them.”

Of course. Pop figured Coury out and cut him off at the knees. It had become a game. If he tried to bring something, Pop would likely sent him home with more than he brought.

He collected their pizza and carried it into the kitchen. “You not going to let me have even a small bone, are you?”

Pop set napkins next to the plates he’d already put on the table. “Nope.” He wasn’t the least bit apologetic.

“Way to give me hope, old man.” He set the boxes on the counter.

The laugh rumbled from deep within. “If you want to persist in this game, know that I beat my son and two daughters every time. I’m certainly not going to be out maneuvered by someone two generations removed.”

He didn’t have a good answer, so he shrugged. That proved to be the wrong answer. Pop hooked Coury’s elbow and pushed him into a chair.

“You’re my guest. That alone ought to be enough, but you are the exact medicine Liam needed. I’ll never be able to repay that.”

“I don’t expect you to pay me. I like hanging out with him.”

“Precisely my point.” He smiled and took the chair across from Coury. “Years ago, my wife’s family used to pay all the time. Alice’s father was the master of snagging the check before anyone else. One time I thought I had him. When he went to the bathroom, I called the waiter over and was about to give him my credit card, when Nathan suddenly appeared and dropped his card in the waiter’s hand. He had this triumphant look of glee that he’d won again.”

“You never beat him?”

“Nope. But we talked afterward and agreed I could pay for things like their birthdays or anniversaries.” He patted Coury’s hand and smiled. “You and I are nowhere near that level. Save your money. Minor leaguers make so little.”

“Is that why you left?” The question popped out before he could stop it. Pop, however, was unfazed.

“No. I had support from my family. I left because I wanted to marry Alice. It was also clear after one year I wasn’t going to exceed the scout’s expectations.”

“What does that mean?”

Pop stood and went to the cupboard for some glasses. “Some prospects you can spot a mile away as winners. Most of those succeed to some degree. Some flame out despite the best scouting. The rest are hit or miss. They’re good enough to get a shot, but no one is touting them as the next big thing.”

He set one glass in front of each placemat. “Scouts evaluate prospects like investment bankers evaluate startups. Everyone wants to invest in the sure winners. For the rest, they spread their money around, taking flyers on companies that might pan out and become the next Google or Facebook.

“I was one of those flyers. No one expected me to be the next Sandy Koufax. When I realized they were right, I packed it in and went home.”

“Did you miss it when you left?”

“Yes and no. I loved playing, but I knew I’d lose Alice if I didn’t come home. She let me chase the dream to see if I could get the brass ring, but she wasn’t going to wait forever.”