CHAPTER THREE
CASH

“What are you going to do this morning, Cash? Your father and I need to run to the store for a few things for the barbecue tonight,” Mom asked as I washed up the dishes from breakfast at the sink.

That was such a ‘normal person’, unusual thing for me now that I found it fascinating to wash my own dishes. Why didn’t I do this at my own home in LA? Oh, right, because I have a maid. “Um, I’m not sure yet, Mom. If I can borrow one of the cars, I might take a drive out, just to see how much everything’s changed.”

“Take the Pontiac, the keys are on the hanger by the door,” Mom replied, leaving the kitchen as I wiped my hands on a towel and looked at what I’d done with something that felt almost foreign: pride.

Things really had changed for me.

A little over 20 minutes later, I was sitting on the bleachers at the baseball field of my old high school. I had on a pair of jeans from a brand most people in this town had never heard of, with a shirt on that cost more than I’d earned on very first paycheck, with a baseball cap on and a pair of aviator glasses that both wore designer insignias that screamed pretentious, though I hadn’t realized that until right now.

I’d written some of my best songs at this baseball field, back in the day, before I got my first record deal and became famous. Those had been songs driven by teenage hormones and dreams I thought I’d never achieve. I’d still written those songs, a notepad on one side, my second-hand guitar in my lap.

That old guitar was on a wall, back in LA, a symbol that I wasn’t that kid anymore. It was funny how that came to me now, sitting on those bleachers. I’d been so sure I’d be a star, but unsure of how to do it. When the big time came for me, I’d risen to the occasion and shown the world what I was made of. I’d even dated a girl from TV I’d had a crush on when we were both in high school, though she’d been famous then unlike me.

A sweeping glance around that baseball diamond reminded me of why I couldn’t find my center. I wasn’t that kid anymore. My notepad was now an expensive tablet and my guitar had cost me more than some people’s houses. I had it all, what else did I have to write about?

My meditation teacher back in LA had taught me how to meditate, find my center, and release stress, though I hadn’t quite mastered that whole stress releasing thing yet. The guru as I called her was my manager’s idea. I wouldn’t have ever considered hiring someone to teach me what the guru taught me, but I found myself using those exercises now, reaching for a song, anything that would save me from the fate that waited for me if I didn’t get this album started.

I strummed the guitar, holding my fingers down on strings, plucking at others with my other hand. Nothing came to mind and I found myself picking out the chords to an old song of mine, still one of my favorites. The notes rang out across the baseball field, and I could remember the old times like they were yesterday.

I was so lost in those memories that when I heard a familiar voice, I thought it was just the past calling out to me. It was only when I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up into a face I used to know as well as my own that I realized that voice was real. “Tad?”

“Cash, man! What are you doing here?” Tad asked, a little older, a little wider than I remembered my former best friend. He hadn’t aged at all in my memory, so it was a shock to see him as he really was. That was happening a lot since I came home.

“I’m the baseball coach now. I came out to get ready for practice and heard the guitar. I knew it was you when I heard that sound. How are you doing?” Tad seemed surprised, excited, and maybe a little reserved. We’d lost touch with each other over the years, and all of those good times had slipped away as I found new, fake people to pal around with. People that didn’t expect the goofy kid I used to be, but wanted me to be a sex symbol.

“That sounds great, Tad, really. I’m proud of you man.” I slapped a hand on his shoulder as he sat down with me and looked out over the field.

“Not so bad for the local screw up, huh? Who’d have guessed that the kid that couldn’t wait to get away from this school the most would end up working here?” Tad’s voice held a note of laughter and wistfulness, something that made me uncomfortable because I was the kid that got out of town. “Hey, I’m free this evening, you want to go for a beer later? Catch up and talk about old times?”

I knew Mom and Dad had the barbecue planned for later, but I’m a people pleaser at heart. I couldn’t tell my old friend no. “Yeah, sure. After practice maybe?”

That would give me time to get home for the other activity I didn’t want to take part in.

“Great man, I got to go set up, stay and watch the practice if you want. You could even give the kids some pointers, if you want to. We were on the all star team in high school, after all. If not, I’ll come find you when it’s over.” Tad got up then and I could see the smile on his face. He was happy, so that was a relief.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come down with you.” I said, pulling the baseball cap lower on my forehead. Tad’s mom used to be like my second mom, and she always gave me the best treats from her shop. I should go by there at some point, to say hi to her. “How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s great, still running Sweet Cream & Custard. Still talks about you all the time.” Tad said as we walked down to the field. “This is going to be just like old times. Man, I’m glad you came by here this morning.”

Doubt crept in as I walked behind Tad, seeing the teenagers streaming towards home base, their equipment all in bags slung over their shoulders. Did he just want to show off to these kids, show them that he knew someone famous, or did he really just want me to give the kids some help?

“Good morning, boys. I’d like you to meet Cash Saunders. We’re old pals from high school and he’s back home for a visit. We were on the all star team, back in the day, and I thought he could help us out a little today.”

“Cash Saunders? The Cash Saunders? The guy I bump in my truck every single day? No way,” a tall kid with light blond hair and that quality that screamed he’d peak in high school came rushing up to me. I shook his hand, even though I wanted to run away.

“Wait, you sang Summer Nights?” Another kid, with that All American smile and the blue eyes that must drive the girls wild, asked.

“That’s me,” I said softly, uncomfortable with the attention on me. “I’m not here for singing though, boys, I’m here for some baseball. Y’all ready to show me what you got?”

The kids all gave a shout of excitement and ran off to drop their gear. Tad looked over at me, an apology on his face. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think the guys would go nuts over you, like that. I forgot you’re famous. I just saw my old best friend and thought we’d have some fun.”

“Nah, man, it’s cool. They’re just kids.” I reassured him, even if I wanted to get in my dad’s old Pontiac and drive off.

“Hey, Cash, how long before you drop your next album, dude? It seems like we’ve been waiting forever?” One of the kids asked as they raced back to home base and it hits me right in the chest.

I’m not prepared to answer that question, from this kid or my manager, so I redirect him. “How long’s it going to be before you show me what you got, kid? Do I have to wait all day? Come on, let’s get this going.”

I clap my hands together to show them I was ready and start the kids off with a few laps around the bases to get their minds of who I am, and onto what mattered to them…baseball.