Dan Alexander, Pitcher Page 21

  “I see.” He nodded. “But it’s okay if I tell Dan, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Bud brought her in the back with him. She ran her hand along the hot dog cart she had carried for several months, remembering.

  “You still hold the record for the most sales,” Bud said.

  She smiled at him before checking her watch.

  “Yeah, the box office is open now. You can get your ticket.”

  They hugged, and she headed for the booth. By now, there was a long line. She had nowhere else to go, so she took her place at the end. People ahead of her were varied, some families with kids, some young adults, some older men.

  “Hi. I’m Glenn. Going to the series?”

  “Uh, that’s why I’m in this line.”

  “Where are you sitting?”

  Her guard went up. “I’m seeing someone, so no use trying to pick me up.”

  He bristled. “Just being friendly. Be frigid. I don’t give a fuck.” He turned away.

  “Nice talk,” she mumbled to herself.

  The line proceeded, and she counted the minutes until she could leave Glenn behind. Once she had the ticket, she made her way to the proper ramp and found the right aisle. Holly couldn’t believe the great seat gifted her. She was right up front. Almost at the railing. She had a perfect view of the pitching mound. Silently, she thanked Al.

  Her heart rate climbed as three o’clock drew near. They always started at three on a Sunday. Finally, Emerald, the rock star, came out on the field with a Marine band behind her to sing the national anthem. The crowd rose to their feet. The Nighthawks and the San Diego Gulls stepped out of their dugouts. The cheering from the stands was deafening.

  Holly’s gaze searched the men until she found the one uniform with Alexander across the back. There he was. She couldn’t breathe. She watched him place his cap over his heart and glance at the seats. He’s looking for me! She raised her hand for a split second then placed it over her heart as the band struck up.

  He’d seen it. Their gazes connected. He raised his left palm for a second then turned his attention to the singer. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs until she thought it would burst right through. Nerves tingled. Her gaze ran over him from top to toe. She wanted to touch him, but that wouldn’t be possible. He had to focus on the game. But she could stare all she wanted.

  He ran out to the mound, turned to face the stands, and tipped his cap to her. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and her hand covered her mouth as she grinned as wide as possible. She blew him a kiss, not caring who saw her or what the folks nearby had to say.

  “He’s taken lady. Some chick named Holly,” a teen two seats away said.

  Holly didn’t respond. It didn’t matter what other people thought. It was all about Dan.

  He picked up the rosin bag and dug a bit at the mound with his toe until it was the way he liked. Then, he raised his glove to receive the ball from Matt Jackson. She watched him warm up then face the first batter for the Gulls. The wind-up, the pitch—a strike out!

  “First batter strikes out means ’Hawks are gonna win the game,” the man on the other side of her said.

  “I hope so.”

  “Mark my words.”

  The game was close. Dan worked hard. Matt went out to talk to him. She loved their powwows, two heads together deciding on a strategy.

  “Hot dogs! Get yer hot dogs!”

  She turned to see a young man carrying a cart, heading her way. Of course, she bought food from him, grinning all the way.

  “You look familiar, lady,” the kid said.

  “I have that kind of face,” she replied.

  The game was close, four to three, Gull’s leading, going into the fifth inning. Dan held San Diego to four by retiring three batters in a row. He glanced at her as he wiped the sweat off with his sleeve and turned the mound over to the other team.

  Skip got a bloop single, and Jake struck out. Do-or-die time. Matt stepped up to the plate.

  “He’s a clutch hitter. Watch him,” the man to her left said.

  “I know,” she responded.

  Matt came through with a two-run homer. The crowd rose to their feet. With a one-run lead, Dan would get the win. Cal Crawley walked to the mound in the seventh inning to take Dan out. She was relieved he’d had a chance for a World Series win.

  Tension was high for the rest of the game, but Holly was distracted. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Dan pacing in the dugout. He’d stop and glance her way, but never long enough for her to make eye contact, and she wondered why. He hasn’t found someone else already, has he?

  The hot dog boy returned. “Note for you, lady,” he said, handing her a piece of paper.

  Holly – Please stay after the game. Meet me at the entrance to the clubhouse.

  Dan

  He wanted to talk to her and didn’t sign the message “love.” Did that mean he’d be letting her down gently, that he’d been dating someone new? Her stomach knotted. She’d meet him because she had to know.

  * * * *

  By the top of the ninth, Holly shifted repeatedly in her seat. She counted the minutes until she could see Dan again. Hope rose up in her heart that he still cared for her. Finally, the last out was made, and the game was over. People poured out of the stadium like lemmings rushing to a cliff. She stayed in her seat until the aisles cleared, at least fifteen minutes later. Slowly, she wound around people standing and talking, waiting in line for the ladies’ room or a beer. She picked her way through the waning crowd, careful not to draw attention to herself.

  Dan was giving an interview in front of the locker room. Among the reporters, she noticed two familiar figures. Shit! Flash’s men! She was taken by surprise and froze, not knowing what to do. Fear spiked through her, making her fingers tremble.

  Dan saw her and grinned. He nodded to the reporter and raised his hand to the cameraman, signaling no more. The two apes followed his stare and zeroed in on her. They approached at the same time as the pitcher.

  Holly pointed to them, diverting Dan’s gaze to the two goons. He looked over then lunged for her. The ballplayer grabbed her hand, he looked from left to right then ran, dragging her behind him, into the locker room.

  She put her hand over her eyes as he pulled her toward the shower. He shushed the protests from his teammates.

  A loud voice drew her attention. “Sorry, gentlemen. You can’t go in there.”

  “We’re reporters.”

  “Let’s see your credentials.”

  Low voices mumbled words, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “Alexander, what the fuck are you doing?” hissed Nat Owen.

  Dan put his finger across his lips. He pulled Holly to him, holding her face to his chest. “Nat! Give me a spare uniform,” he whispered.

  “What for?”

  “Just give it to me.” Dan gestured.

  The first baseman shrugged and opened his locker.

  Dan grabbed the uniform and shoved it, and Holly, into an empty stall in the bathroom and shut the door. She locked it and changed. The pitcher motioned his friends together and whispered to them.

  Bud Magee entered. “They’re not leaving, Dan. I’ll call the police.”

  “In the meantime, we have to get her out of here, without exposing her identity publicly. I’ve got a plan.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the men were dressed and ready to leave. Holly tucked and pulled, trying to get the uniform to fit, but it was simply too damn big.

  “Just hold it with your hands,” Dan said, taking her by the arm.

  The men formed a group, with Holly in the middle. They exited the locker room, surrounding her. The henchmen moved forward. So did the players.

  “Sorry. No interviews,” Dan said, raising one hand while he held on to Holly with the other. She ducked her head, turning her face away. She’d hidden her hair under one of Dan’s caps. She was camouflaged, blending in with the others.

  Bud Mag
ee returned with a security guard, who escorted Kincaid’s musclemen out of the building.

  In the meantime, Dan had shoved her in the backseat of his car. She lay flat on the floor, closed her eyes, and prayed.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “Port Authority.”

  Dan drove to Riverside first. He pulled up by the park that followed the Hudson River.

  Holly climbed into the front seat. The second she settled in, he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her. Her eyes drifted shut. If this is a dream, may it never end. When they finally broke, she touched his cheek to make sure he was real.

  “I’m so proud of you. You were amazing.”

  “Thanks. Did you watch the playoffs?”

  “Didn’t miss a game.”

  She leaned forward, brushing his lips with hers. He tightened his grip around her.

  “It feels so good,” she murmured when he raised his head.

  “I miss you so much,” he said, gazing into her eyes.

  “Me too.”

  “You haven’t met anyone else, have you?”

  She shook her head. “Too busy working.”

  “What are you doing?”

  She filled him in on her job at the bakery.

  “Can you tell me where you are?”

  “Barb made me promise not to.”

  “I’d never be a threat to you.”

  “I know. But if you come to see me, my cover is blown.”

  “You’re right. I hate this,” he said, smashing his fist against the dashboard.

  “Me too.”

  “How much longer?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I love you, Holly. You know that, don’t you?

  “I do now. I love you too. I’ll wait forever.”

  They kissed several more times until their breathing became panting. A tap on the window from a police officer kept the make-out session from becoming more.

  “I have to go,” she said, checking her watch. “Last bus leaves in an hour.”

  “Thanks for coming. For taking such a big chance.” He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.

  “I had to see you play. Besides, Al Housman promised me.”

  “Those goons won’t find you now.”

  “No, they won’t.”

  They fell into an easy silence as he wended his way through traffic on the way to the bus station. Holly wiggled out of the uniform, revealing her own clothes underneath.

  “Tell Nat thanks,” she said.

  He pulled up in front of the Eighth Avenue entrance and put the car in park, hitting the flasher button.

  “This is goodbye?” His eyes watered.

  “No. Farewell. Until whenever,” she said, a tear escaping down her cheek.

  He wiped it away with his thumb.

  “Love you so much,” she said, opening the door.

  Before she lost her nerve and stayed with him, Holly pushed out of the vehicle and blended into the crowd as she searched for her gate.

  Pain sliced through her chest as she boarded with the other passengers. As the bus crossed the George Washington Bridge, she cried softly to herself.

  “He isn’t worth it, honey,” said the older woman in the seat next to her.

  “Oh, no. You’re wrong. He is so worth it,” Holly replied.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Four months later

  Holly pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. The wind and temperature at five in the morning were brutal in Candlewood. The three-block walk to the bakery seemed like ten. The darkness depressed her. She longed for summer, baseball season, and Dan Alexander.

  The silence between them seemed to grow deeper and darker with every month that passed. She’d taken to going to Duffy’s Bar & Grill from time to time. It was four blocks down Main. She’d grab a burger, a drink, and a little conversation there. A few men tried to pick her up, but she resisted. Male companionship would have been nice, but once you’ve had the gold standard, not just any man will do.

  Occasionally, she’d lie in bed and wonder who Dan was dating, sleeping with, and falling for. Hell, athletes can’t be celibate for this long without exploding, she figured. No word from Al Housman’s office left her sad and alone.

  The Hatchs were friendly enough, but it wasn’t like living with the Magees. She was a boarder, nothing more. Some days, Holly doubted she’d ever be part of a family or have a family of her own. Maybe if she’d behaved better, she wouldn’t have lost the one she was born into. Maybe or maybe not. The Merrills couldn’t hold a candle to the Magees for warm feelings.

  At four, she donned her coat, hat, and scarf, readying herself for the cold trek back to her room. Her phone dinged. She pulled it out before putting on her gloves and read the message. It was from Al.

  Judge threw out the appeal. Conviction stands. Sentencing today.

  The heaviness around her heart lifted. When Flash Kincaid received his sentence, her imprisonment would be over. She’d be free. She braced against the wind, but didn’t feel the cold as question after question ran through her mind.

  At the Hatch’s, she made a cup of tea and took it up to her room. She opened a book, but kept her cell out on the night table, ready to read any word from the D.A. At six o’clock, the message came, as they were sitting down to dinner. She excused herself and clicked her phone open with trembling hands.

  25 to life. No parole. You’re safe. You’re free. Go home.

  She let out a whoop and jumped up and down. She’d been given a second chance at life, and this time, she vowed, she wouldn’t mess it up. She returned to the table, smiling.

  “Guess this means you’re leaving us,” Tresa said, passing the mashed potatoes to Holly.

  “It does.”

  “I’ll be sorry to see you go. You’re a great person, honey. I hope you find happiness.”

  “Thank you. I hope so too.”

  After dinner, she went up to pack. She called Mary and told her she was leaving. Mary begged her to stay another week.

  Holly agreed. After all, what was one more week? It wasn’t like she actually had someplace to call home. She’d thought about it every day and still didn’t have notion as to a permanent residence. She’d decided to use her father’s check and had planned to stay a month in a New York City hotel while she figured out where her life was going.

  On Holly’s last day, Mary threw a farewell party for her at the bakery. The young woman’s things were stowed in a small valise at the Hatch’s, and she was ready to go.

  In the middle of the festivities, a limousine pulled up in front of the store.

  A man got out and came inside. “Holly Merrill?”

  “Nobody here by that name,” Mary replied.

  “Wait! Wait! Yes. That’s me.”

  “Wait, you’re Holly?” Sean asked. “The Holly Dan Alexander mentioned on TV?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then, who’s Carrie?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “So, you were telling the truth? You’re really his girlfriend?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Man, I’m confused,” Sean said, scratching his scruffy face.

  The chauffeur handed her an envelope. “I’m to wait for your reply,” he said.

  She tore the top off. Inside was a key. The same one Dan had pressed into her hand at the trial. Joy filled her.

  “If everything’s okay, I’ve got the car out front. I’m to take you to Manhattan.”

  She jumped at the man, throwing her arms around his neck. Quickly, she realized her mistake and released him. He chuckled.

  “Yes! Yes, everything is way more than okay. I’m ready. Can we drive to my place to get my suitcase?”

  “Whatever you want, miss,” he said, holding the door open for her.

  Mary, the Hatchs, and the new assistants Holly had been training, hugged her. She slid into the backseat, and the chauffeur closed the door.

  “How long do you think it’ll take?�
� Her nerves tingled.

  “About three or four hours.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve waited this long. I can wait longer.”

  “There’s a bar back there, miss. Help yourself.”

  “Thank you.”

  While the car warmed up, the driver made a call. “Yes sir. I’ve got the package, sir. No. No problems. We’re on our way. Thank you, sir.”

  Too keyed up to sit still, she shifted her weight. Already higher than alcohol could take her, she settled for looking out the window and remembering the touch, feel, and taste of Dan Alexander.

  Her stomach knotted, and her hands trembled when the doorman at Dan’s building opened the limousine door for her. Dan was pacing in the lobby when she exited the vehicle. As soon as she walked inside, he grabbed her in a bear hug and twirled her around.

  He freed up a hand to push the button for the elevator. Once they got behind the doors, his mouth descended on hers in a hungry kiss.

  Inside his apartment, he continued kissing her while backing her toward the bedroom. Holly let him lead her. The scent of Dan mixed with his aftershave and the smell of soap stirred her insides. God, it was good to be with him! He cupped her butt, lifting her up. She wound her legs around his waist. He took long strides in his effort to get to the bed faster. He let her down on the mattress and was on top of her before she could speak.

  Dan kissed her silly, leaving her squirming and hot.

  “I’d like to take my time, but I can’t. Please take off your clothes,” he said, pushing to his feet and ripping his tie from his neck.

  As if they had a “get naked” contest going, each one stripped off an article of clothing and threw it in a corner. Their gazes never left each other. As she tossed her panties in the air, a wave of shyness washed over Holly. She covered herself with her arms.

  “Don’t hide from me, beautiful,” he said, dropping his boxers and revealing his erection. He approached her and took her hand. Holly trembled in anticipation of his touch, gooseflesh traveled up her arms, and a zing of lust shot to her core.