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by Brio, Alessia; Belegon, Will

  Jay David wove expertly through traffic, passing the turn to the Metra station where Andi expected him to park while they hopped the red line to Addison Station. She glanced sideways at him, and he grinned. Reaching across her and into the glove compartment, he extracted a small, numbered placard and hooked it over the rearview mirror. "We're parking in Boystown—at Sebastian's apartment. He's in Houston, of all places, on business. It's only a couple extra blocks, and I figured we'd hit Melrose after the game for a bite…unless you have other plans."

  They heard the first notes of the Star Spangled Banner while crossing North Sheffield, and Jay David picked up their pace. He nearly drug Andi through the gate, urging her to hurry so they'd not miss anything. Once they'd collected the tickets at the Will Call window, he dashed ahead of her to their seats.

  Andi stopped in the ladies' room, picked up a couple bottles of water from the concession, meandered through the souvenir shop, and generally took her sweet time joining Jay David. She tried to convince herself that she was playing it cool, but her pulse refused to allow the deception. Her sweaty palms also contributed to the evidence that the normally calm, cool, and collected Andrea Spring really looked forward to seeing Eric Olson in another type of action.

  By the time she plopped into the seat next to Jay David, it was the bottom of the second inning. He glared at her as if he viewed her tardiness as an affront to the sanctity of the game. Handing him a bottle of water as a peace offering, she turned her attention toward the scoreboard. It didn't appear she'd missed anything of significance because it showed no score for either team.

  Eric wouldn't pitch until the last inning, and only if necessary to protect the lead, so Andi took a few deep breaths and forced herself to focus on the game instead of scanning the visitor's dugout for a glimpse of her lover.

  "So, who's who on your lust list? The third baseman looks tasty. I've never noticed him before."

  Jay David sighed, unable to maintain his annoyance. "That's 'cause you never notice our boys—and he was one of them for the past two seasons. Me? I'd like to be nailed to the ivy by that center fielder. Don't look now, but I think someone's watching you."

  "Won't be the first time," Andi laughed, "and it won't be the last. Who and where?" "On deck. Your favorite person, too: Snyder." "Ugh. What a waste of testosterone. He's never gotten over my rather public rejection when he was with New York. The man wouldn't take a polite no for an answer, though. I had no choice but to be brutal."

  Andi glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, Snyder was looking right at her. But the look on his face surprised her: not hatred—or anger—but instead reminiscent of a boy looking into the department store window before Christmas, staring at a toy his parents could never afford.

  "That was a thought I simply didn't need to have." Andi said the words out loud, almost unconsciously. It won her a strange look from Jay David, but the question he started to ask died on his lips as the P.A. system announced Snyder's turn at bat.

  The Chicago third baseman dug his heels into the box, cocked his bat, and took one last glance at Andi before focusing on the mound. San Francisco's young left-hander stared back icily. He was either unaware of the man's dominance against lefties or so full of ego that he didn't care. Andi was willing to bet on the latter.

  Jay David saw it, too. As the pitcher went into his windup, he began to bounce in his seat. "What the hell has gotten into you?" "Just watch, sweetie!" he uttered smugly as the kid released the ball and it sped toward the inner half of the plate.

  Time seemed to slow down as Snyder lifted his left foot, took his stride, and swung. With a mighty crack, the ball reversed direction and gained speed. Even with the wind blowing in, there was no doubt the ball was headed for Waveland Avenue, a long home run clear out of the ballpark. Jay David jumped to his feet while the ball was still rising, his implied prediction fulfilled on the first pitch. Snyder stood watching for a moment, then casually flipped the bat away and started for first. As he left the box, he looked back at Andi once more and winked.

  The sight turned her stomach a little. If he thought he could win her favor that way, he was dead wrong. Sure, she found confidence sexy, but after all the years dating ballplayers, self-centered arrogance just bored her.

  As he passed by again after rounding the bases, she tugged on Jay David's jersey. Andi deliberately looked away from Jack Snyder's attempt at eye contact, instead seeking the eyes of her friend. Jay David looked down at her and then sat, suddenly concerned.

  "What, love? You look like someone just guessed your height, weight, age, and middle name at the carnival."

  "How did you know? You knew what was going to happen. I swear you did. How?" Andi was genuinely interested in the answer. She knew a lot about ballplayers, but much about baseball itself still mystified her.

  He scoffed and patted her leg in a way that—from any other source—would've sparked her ire for its condescension. "Simple, really. The kid's got a great fastball, and he likes to use it. He shook off the catcher twice. He only has three pitches. A youngster like that isn't shaking off a first pitch fastball, I guarantee it. As to the rest, the catcher set up inside. A first pitch fastball on the inner half to a dead-pull freeswinger who's been on a tear? I'm hardly Nostradamus on the one, my dear."

  Andi's eyes glazed over about midway through his explanation. "Once more, please—in layman's terms this time." When he opened his mouth to speak, she laid her hand on his arm. "Oh, just…never mind. Those sorts of observations require an attention to detail that I just don't have, nor am I particularly motivated to invest. I can enjoy the game without it."

  And enjoy it she did, with the minor exception of ignoring Snyder's bravado as he tried to catch her eye each time he left or returned to the dugout. The persistent little gnat provided the only blemish to an otherwise delightful afternoon. Andi almost felt sorry for him—not sorry enough to fuck him, but sorry that his interpersonal skills lagged so far behind his prowess on the field. The talent and the flaw, however, seemed to feed on one another, for the more annoying he became, the better he played.

  The sights, sounds, and smells of a day of baseball with her best friend soon pushed all lingering thoughts of Brad and Eric and her battered dating rules aside. The sun warmed her skin, and the camaraderie warmed her soul. Jay David provided running commentary, sprinkled with the latest dish on the players, throughout the otherwise uneventful game. Snyder drove another ball into the stands to lead off the fifth, but by the seventh inning stretch, his solo shots were still the only two runs on the board.

  Andi joined a chorus of over forty-thousand in singing a spirited rendition of Take Me Out to the Ball Game. While a win was in no way guaranteed, the energy certainly seemed to favor their hometown boys. Jay David was beside himself with excitement, and it was contagious. A Cubs win meant St. Louis would only be two games up with two months to play, making the game an important one. Andi bounced between cheering for the home team along with Jay David and silently rooting for her lover's club. The inherent conflict of interest was the main reason she rarely attended games.

  The bottom of the seventh brought Snyder to the plate again with two down. Fans went wild with anticipation of a rare three-homer afternoon, and he clearly had the same objective. Jay David sat down and put his head in his hands, shaking it, and Andi turned toward him with a puzzled expression on her face.

  "He's trying too hard. Inning's over. He'll go down swinging." He looked up for verification just as Snyder swung and missed strike three. "But, damn, doesn't he look just fine doing it? I would love to get my hands on that ass and…"

  Andi slapped her hand over his mouth. While she prided herself on her objectivity where men were involved, she simply could not bring herself to look at Snyder in that light. He got on her last nerve, and she decided the time had come to take him down a peg. When he looked up at her on his way back to the dugout, she met his eyes for the first time— and smiled ever-so-sweetly, reveling in his failure at the pl
ate.

  The change in his demeanor was immediate and unmistakable. He had been projecting positivity, as though to tell the crowd and himself they would both have another shot before the day was out, but as Andi flashed the unkind smile, his brow furrowed. He ignored the teammate trying to hand him cap and glove. Instead, he flung his batting helmet against the bricks, forcing a bat boy to scurry out of the way. Stalking into the dugout and out of Andi's sight, she knew the tantrum continued when she heard the loud thump of his bat being slammed into the rack. A moment later, he reappeared, scowling at the shortstop still waiting patiently to hand him his glove.

  "Calm down, Jack," Andi heard his teammate tell him. "We're winning this game, remember?" Snyder said nothing, just took his hat and glove before glancing once again at Andi and jogging to take his position in the field.

  "What did you do?" The look on Jay David's face revealed that he already knew the answer. "Nothing," she replied sweetly. "I only smiled at him." Jay David made that tsk'ing sound that sent his creative team scrambling in fear of his displeasure. "I am SO glad I'm not a breeder. Women! You are simply impossible, darling. Why do you have to fuck with my boys today? Especially by teasing them that you're not fucking them? Can't you just let me have one win to savor, you selfish little bitch?" His words were hard, but the tone in his voice made it clear that they were said in fun.

  A half inning later, his mood shifted to a less conciliatory one. The Chicago starter lost his concentration, walking the first two batters. He managed to get the next man on a long fly ball to right, but the runner on second took third after the catch. So, with just one out, men stood on first and third. A double play would keep the Giants from scoring, but when the next batter grounded to third, Snyder had trouble getting a grip on the ball. He made the play at second—but not in enough time to enable the play at first. The man from third scored, and the shutout was gone.

  The piercing glance Jack sent Andi's way made it clear he blamed her for his trouble. When the next batter hit a home run to take the lead that glance became a glare. Andi glared back. They had plenty of time to engage in the unblinking battle as the Cubs manager chose that time to make a pitching change.

  The first batter to face the new pitcher drew a walk and promptly stole second. But, the Giants lost their chance to add to their lead when Snyder dove to his right, snared a ball ticketed for the left field corner, and threw the man out at first, redeeming himself with a fantastic play.

  The Giants still held a one run advantage going into the bottom of the eighth. Snyder glared at Andi all the way to the dugout, mouthing an insult to her that took very little lip-reading skill to decipher. Andi sarcastically blew him a kiss in reply.

  For a short time, it looked as though the Giants' lead might vanish as quickly as it had been gained. Their young pitcher put two men on to start the inning and nearly walked a third before taking down the next three batters.

  "Well, I think your loverboy's gonna get a shot today, sweet cheeks. If I were running that team, I'd send my starter back out for a chance to finish…but I'd have a short leash. Yep. Look there, dear." He pointed toward San Francisco's bullpen, where a familiar figure was stretching.

  The Giants went quietly in the top of ninth, and their starter took the mound as Jay David predicted. Four pitches later, the tying run stood on first, and the Chicago crowd grew louder than it had been since Snyder led off the fifth with his second home run. The San Francisco coach held a brief conference on the mound as the cheers of the crowd competed with the loud pop of Eric's fastball hitting leather in the bullpen. Everyone in the park assumed the tactical delay just gave Eric a few more warm up pitches, an assumption confirmed by the waving of the manager's right arm. "Great! Here comes the fucking Viking. We're toast now." Andi turned to see where the words came from. A grizzled man behind her smiled at the vision in front of him. "Well, hello, dear. I must say, I should thank you for coming out today. You've made my afternoon much more enjoyable."

  She smiled at the old man, unsure whether his was the courage of an old coot with nothing to lose or whether it came courtesy of Old Style. "Thank you, sir. What do you mean by that comment, though?" "Oh, your pretty boy here could tell you. Seems to have a good head

  for the game for a sissy-boy." Jay David glanced skyward, too amused to actually be angry. "Berserker boy there has a fastball that threatens triple digits—and

  with late movement. Damn near unhittable." "He's right. Watch, sweetie. Your boy has been gifted by God." "In more ways than one," Andi muttered under her breath as Eric

  took the field. Andi felt a reaction that took her by surprise as he threw a couple warm up pitches. The power in his delivery, the way his thighs flexed as he brought his knee practically to his chin, and she was wetter than if they had been in the bedroom alone, rather than having him a hundred feet away from her in the midst of a roaring crowd.

  The game resumed, and as Eric pitched, he released a grunt that sounded very familiar, sending a new rush of heat to her crotch. The loud smack of the ball against the leather of the catcher's mitt and the umpire's cry of "Strike one!" blended in her mind to create a very arousing image. "Quit!" Jay David hissed at her, slapping her hands away. Only then did Andi realize she'd been running her fingers lightly across the Band-Aids on her knees. She blushed, uncharacteristically, and Jay David grinned at her before returning his attention to the game. Three quick pitches took the first batter down. As the Cubs' clean-up hitter strode to the plate, a familiarly annoying voice came from the ondeck circle.

  "Yeah, keep watching him like that. I'm gonna ruin both your days. I'm taking your boy downtown, slut."

  "Gracious!" Jay David fanned himself with both hands. "He's cute when he's angry." Andi swatted him, laughing. "Don't encourage him!" "Encourage him? I want to…" Again, Andi's hand covered his mouth. "Please, for the love of all

  things holy, don't say it." She looked back at Snyder as a loud pop came from the catcher's

  glove and the umpire yelled "Strike!" "Better pay attention, Synder. I have it on good authority that Eric

  looks unhittable today." Andi said it with a smile. "No need. Muscle-head out there is gonna throw me nothing but fastballs. Thinks he has your magic on his side." Snyder leaned on his bat and took on a serious tone. "He'll challenge me, and I'll hit the ball a mile. I should be thanking you for coming to the game. My first threehome-run day."

  "I'm not here to see you, and I never will be. Deal with it." As Andi said it, the batter at the plate swung and missed his third strike, putting Snyder in the do-or-die position. As the public address announcer called his name, he bowed to Andi and advanced to home plate.

  "He might be right, Andi. Eric watched that whole exchange," Jay David pointed out, "and I don't think he liked it. He looks angry, even more so than he usually looks on the mound. Eric has a great fastball, but Jack feasts on heat. This could be ugly for you, baby."

  Andi watched as Snyder made a big deal out of adjusting his batting gloves and helmet, taking his time. The crowd ate it up, many of them getting on their feet to cheer and clap. Eric continued to stare down Snyder, occasionally glancing at Andi.

  Finally, he stepped into the batter's box, ground the ball of his rear foot into the dirt, and lifted his hands to a ready position. Eric stepped to the mound and was just beginning to move when Snyder held up a hand to ask for a time out. The umpire called time and stepped away from the plate, even as Eric went into his windup.

  "Thanks, blue," Snyder told the ump. He then reached down very slowly and made a show of adjusting his cup before looking up at Eric and commenting, "That's better. Your slump-busting bitch over there was trying to distract me by telling me what she was gonna have for an after game snack."

  The look on Eric's face became nothing short of dangerous. The umpire paused, studied Snyder for a second, and then shook his head before motioning to the mound for Eric to resume pitching. "Oh shit!" exclaimed Jay David, cringing, "I think…." Eric reared back and
unleashed the ball. It seemed to sizzle through the air as it zoomed in and again made a loud smack. This time, however, it was Snyder's flesh that sang out as the pitch hit him squarely in the ass. The very sound was painful. Snyder dropped like a man that had been shot, rolling on the ground.

  "Mind your fucking manners, asshole! That's no way to talk about a lady!" shouted Eric, stalking off the mound and throwing his glove at home plate. The umpire's reaction was immediate, pointing at the San Francisco pitcher and loudly ejecting him from the game.

  Snyder leapt to his feet, pushed aside the catcher who tried to restrain him, and bolted for the mound—favoring one side as his body compensated for the pain. Eric met him halfway.

  The Chicago player threw his weight into a roundhouse right. Eric leaned back, and the fist sailed harmlessly a couple inches in front of his face. As Snyder's momentum carried him around, Eric's left hand jabbed out over his shoulder and caught him cleanly below the eye. Snyder's head snapped back and, once more, he collapsed. Both dugouts emptied and everyone poured onto the field to join the melee.

  The confusion reigned for several minutes before order was restored. It took three of Eric's teammates to pull him off the field. Snyder had to be revived with smelling salts.

  Andi waited until Eric looked her way before mouthing a "thank you" to him. Even if she had screamed it, he wouldn't have heard her over the raucous crowd. He nodded back briskly, still upset, before being led out of sight.

  When play finally resumed, things went the Cubs' way. The San Francisco replacement was unable to collect the third out as the home team rallied to score two runs and celebrate along with forty thousand of their fans.

  After Jay David had finished high-fiving half the people in their section, he turned to Andi, who sat with a bemused look on her face. "What's wrong, sweetie? You certainly can't be mad at Eric for defending your honor like that…I mean, c'mon! We all know you can take care of yourself, but what else could he do?"