Twenty Palaces Read Online Free PDF

them and I couldn't smell a thing.  
    Jon snatched a burger from the table. "You first, buddy."
    I went into the cage and stood beside the plate. The night was cold and so was I. Still, it felt good to stand here after so long. This was a sacred spot.
    Jon dropped a token into the coin slot and the pitching machine began to whir. It was a spinning rubber wheel with a ball feeder. The pitches were going to come quickly, without warning. "It's been a while," I said. "I haven't even warmed up."
    "No excuses!" Macy yelled. "If you hit every pitch, I'll introduce you to one of my girlfriends."  
    I looked up at her just as the first pitch zipped by. Everyone laughed. Echo leaned toward the chain link. "Guess you're stuck with hand lotion and an old sock, huh?"
    "No one understands me but my socks."
    The second pitch came in much too fast for me and I swung so late I shouldn't have bothered. I was more prepared for the third pitch; even though my swing was still rusty, I managed to tip it foul behind me. It felt good.  
    "Foul!" Macy yelled. "Somebody help this boy!" She yanked open the door and marched in. There was something about her expression that told me it was all in fun, so I shrugged, handed her the bat, and stepped out of the cage.  
    The next pitch whizzed by while we were switching spots. When Macy stepped up to the plate, her stance was all wrong: knock-kneed and tilted too far to the right. Her skinny little hands were too far down the bat and too far apart. She obviously wasn't a player or a fan.  
    "Put them into the upper corners," Jon said. The next pitch came in even before he'd finished his sentence. Macy chopped it into the upper left corner. "Other side," Jon said. She hit the next pitch into the upper right corner. "Left corner." She did it. "Right corner." She did that, too.
    I stared at her, dumbstruck. Her stance and grip were all wrong, but her swing was quick and scarily accurate. If they'd asked me to put money down, I'd think I was being scammed.  
    "Left si--no, right side!"
    She tried to change her swing as the ball came in, but she hit it a foot and a half from the upper right corner. "No fair!"  
    Jon laughed, and so did she. "Boring!" she exclaimed. She dropped the bat as she walked out of the cage.
    "My turn." Echo rushed into the cage and grabbed a bat just as another pitch zipped by.  
    I was about to ask Macy where she'd learned to hit like that, but she ran to Jon, threw her arms around his waist and tilted her head back for a kiss. I turned away from them, went to the picnic table and picked up a couple of fries.
    Payton was already standing there. Just as I was trying to figure out how to ask what he knew about Jon's cure, he spoke: "You're wondering why she's with me."
    "What's that, big guy?"
    "You're wondering why a woman like Echo is with a guy like me. Well, she is with me. Don't forget it."
    It was one thing for a cute girl to bust my chops, but a challenge from a guy like Payton had to be answered. If he thought he was going to make me back down, he was in for an unhappy surprise, not to mention a broken bone or two. "Don't forget what, now? Because I'm not listening to a word you say."
    That was what he wanted to hear. He squared off against me and stuck his finger in my face. "Maybe you should clean out your ears, asshole."  
    "Hey!" Jon called. "What's going on?"
    I didn't look away from Payton. "Dude is telling me all about how great his relationship is."  
    Jon rounded on Payton. "This again? Payton, he's my friend, and we're celebrating tonight. Can't you--"
    "I'm waiting!"
    We all turned to the batting cage. Echo was standing at the plate, bat cocked at a crooked angle, waiting for a pitch.  
    Payton took a token from Jon's hand, mumbled an apology, then walked over to feed the machine. Jon turned to me. "Ray, I'm sorry. Payton's cool; you don't have to be scared of him--"
    "No sweat. I wasn't."
    "Shit. Look. I don't care what Payton says, and I don't care what