Colby (Season Two: The Ninth Inning #6) by Lindsay Paige, Mary Smith

Craft.” I reach out my hand and introduce myself. Big guys don’t intimidate me.
    “I’m Mouth.”
    Street nicknames don’t phase me either. I think I’ve heard them all. “How can I help you, Mouth?”
    “I saw you at Ce-Ce’s funeral.”
    I nod. “Yes, I was there.”
    “Ce-Ce told me she told you what happened with Hotty.”
    I nod again, confirming. “Do you know anything about Hotty’s death?”
    “I’ve been on the streets since I was thirteen years old when my mama heard I stole a car and kicked me out. I’ve seen a lot, heard more, and probably done more than that. However, you learn who is born to be on the street and who will die young on them because they don’t belong.” He leans back in his chair and rests his hands behind his head.
    “Which one was Hotty?”
    “He belonged there. He was a little fucker, always in everyone’s business because he thought being nosy would help him climb up the ladder of the street thugs.”
    “What was Ce-Ce?”
    “A good kid.”
    “Are you her pimp?” It’s a valid question. I need to know about this guy and see if he’s on the up and up.
    Mouth laughs loud and brings his arms down resting them on the table. “Hell no, I don’t get involved in that shit.” He pauses. “She was a good kid in the wrong crowd. I just looked out for her.”
    I nod. “What can you tell me about Hotty and his death?”
    “One, he probably deserved it. I hate to say it, but it’s true. He had a lot of hands in a lot of different cookie jars if you know what I mean?”
    “He was playing territories?”
    Mouth smirks. “The little fucker thought he was good at it, but he wasn’t at all.”
    I wait for him to go on, and we both stare at each other.
    “Ce-Ce told you she thought Dice pulled the trigger.”
    “Possibly.” Ce-Ce did tell me about Dice who’s another young kid who is moving up fast in the gang.
    “Well, she’s right.”
    “What do you know? What can you tell me so I can put Dice away?”
    Mouth doesn’t make a sound. I can’t even hear him breathing. “You have a pen?”
    I hand over my pen and small note pad I keep in my pocket. I study Mouth as he writes down something and slides it back to me.
    “That there is Dice’s baby mama. My girl is watching the baby because she’s currently going to college to try and get off the streets. She’s one of the good ones. She’ll probably help you out.”
    I take the pad back. “Thank you, Mouth.”
    “I hope it works out so you’re not investigating my murder for snitching.” He stands and walks out of the office.
    I take a second and hope he’s right, but right now, I need to get this case solved.
     

     
    I spend the rest of my day and most of the night trying to contact Dice’s girlfriend, but I have no luck. I don’t want to become discouraged since I have just been handed this new piece of the puzzle, so I decide to go home and chill for a while.
    Once I’m in my pajamas, I curl up with my book in bed, but my phone alerts me to some texts.
     
    Colby: Hope your day is going well. Sorry, I didn’t talk to you yesterday; I hung out with the team.
    Colby: I’ll be home in the morning. Are you going to the game tomorrow? Want to grab some dinner afterward?
    Colby: Let me know.
     
    I’m taking Duke’s advice. As much dark surrounds me, I need some light and right now, it’s Colby Wilson.
     
    Me: I can come to the game, and I’d love to have dinner with you.

 
     
    THERE ARE SOME days when I appreciate how lucky I am to play a game for a living. I love how committed I am and how baseball has always been a source of goodness in my life.
    Then, there are days like today.
    Maybe I’m a little too invested. Maybe I’ve been enjoying how well we’ve been doing lately a little too much. There’s a possibility we all took it for granted and started absentmindedly slacking just enough for it to fly under the radar. So, the disappointment is that much bigger when we gare dominated and