“Let’s do it.” Cody banged his fist into his palm. “Two o’clock this afternoon. I’ll make it happen.”
“Cody, I — Nothing, never mind.”
She ambled over to the window and opened the curtains. He joined her. The view was magnificent. The morning sun was brilliant in a cloudless sky. From the twentieth floor, they could see Comerica Park a few blocks away, the site where the All-Star Game would unfold.
A huge Ferris wheel with baseball-shaped gondolas stood out like a giant punctuation mark for the massive stadium. Thousands of summer vacationers covered the amusement area like tiny sugar ants.
Cody leaned his back against the wall, dropped his head, and put his hands in his front pockets — his standard body language prior to revealing deep thought. She waited.
“About what happened in the hallway Saturday night —”
“No need to apologize, Cody. I must learn when to keep my mouth shut.” She walked toward the bathroom.
“No, no. Sometimes I just—” He wavered.
She stopped and looked back. “Sometimes you just —? Just what?”
“Uh. I mean I’m glad you’re here.”
“I know. I know. Security reasons, of course.” She shrugged.
“Uh, yeah. Right. Better to keep you safe.”
She continued to the bathroom and closed the door.
* * *
After lunch, Cody and Brandi continued edgy. Twenty minutes before the conference, sitting in the suite discussing strategy with Brandi, Cody became extremely agitated and began to pace back and forth.
“Cody, what’s wrong?”
“Are you kidding? Everything! Are you sure you wanna go through with this? I mean once this news conference is over, things will never be the same. What if it backfires?”
“So what are you saying? You brought me all the way to Detroit to tell me you're getting cold feet? This morning, you were all cranked up about it. The news conference was your idea, your agent’s brilliant plan!"
“I need a minute.” He started toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll meet you downstairs in the conference room.” He opened the door and left.
She plopped down on the end of the bed and hurled her flip-flops at the door behind him. I’m going to the news conference if it kills me. Don’t care if he shows up or not.
Minutes later, the press gathered in the Rose Calley Room on the ground floor. Brandi was escorted to the head table. Microphones were set up for the couple, but Cody was a no-show. She fidgeted nervously. Finally, seven minutes late, Cody slipped into the room and took his place next to her.
She covered her mic. “Nice of you to join us. Where have you been?”
“Tell you later,” he said under his breath. “Let’s just get this over with.” He leaned toward his microphone, apologized to everyone, and welcomed them.
They had prepared a statement about the attempted abduction. The major points of it were these:
(1) The two had never met prior to the incident.
(2) Neither of them was significantly injured.
(3) The attack against Brandi was an act of terrorism and cowardice.
Cody read the statement. Brandi added her perspective. “The first thing I did was call out loudly for help. That is what anyone should do when attacked. I also prayed. And I do not believe it was an accident that Cody showed up.” She looked at Cody. He looked straight ahead.
The floor was opened for questions.
Jon Tsipras of Global Press had the first. “I have a question for each of you. First of all, Brandi, did you bring your Cody Musket souvenir baseball with you?”
Chuckles circulated through the room.
“I guard it with my life. Trying to get the nerve to ask him for his autograph. It’s exciting to finally make it to Baseball Tonight.” Replays of her catch had been shown among the baseball highlights on sports networks ever since the game Sunday.
It was her first exposure to these reporters. She was witty and articulate. Writers showed their appreciation with laughter and applause.
Tsipras followed up. “Cody, were you and you alone the only person standing between Ms. Barnes and her attackers? And, oh yes, are you going to sign Brandi’s baseball?”
Cody decided to play along. “Baseball? What baseball?” He turned toward Brandi. “Is that the ball I saw you with yesterday?” Loud chuckles turned the gathering into lighthearted fun.
She reached into her purse underneath the table, pulled out the ball, and presented it to him with a pen. He snatched it and signed it. This brought more laughter and applause. Cody then became uneasy. Serious questions would follow, and he hoped that everyone could change gears to grasp the severity.
“In answer to your other question, Jon —”
“What was my other question? Does anyone remember?” More laughter followed.
Mary Ann Baker of ESPN asked about Cody’s self-defense training.
Cody told of his years of training but pointed out that he had tried to scare off the attackers by telling them police were on the way. He also said that Navy SEALs had taught him to never enter a dangerous situation unless he believed he could finish it.
Martin Hardy of ABC News asked. “When you entered the situation, did you, in fact, believe you could finish it?”
“I couldn’t allow myself to believe otherwise. Most men I’ve encountered who cover their faces are not the bravest guys around. They usually run in packs, and they’re uncomfortable unless numbers are heavily in their favor.”
This brought loud applause and smiles. It was a great live sound bite. Cody had set the stage by playing along with the baseball joke, and now he had dug a deeper hole. If only he could retract what he had just said — not a great start.
Another reporter spoke up. “Melvin Bonner, Aurora Media Group. Since the scare tactic didn’t work, would you say, Cody, that the three attackers misjudged you?”
“I think the three-to-one odds gave them confidence, so I guess the answer would be yes. Of course, they could’ve been smoking something.”
Now the guffaws and cackles ruled the room. Things were out of hand. Maybe he should’ve asked Derek to fly to Detroit and sit with him on the podium. These were serious matters, but he had not stuck to the script. Why do I make people laugh when I don’t intend to, and bore them when I try to say something funny?
Brandi placed her hand on his forearm. Cody read her eyes and nodded — “Go ahead.”
Brandi nearly swallowed her mic. “I’d like to weigh in if I may.” She briefly covered her mouth and flinched as she cleared her throat. A deep silence fell upon the gathering. She adjusted her distance from the microphone, and her words became crystal clear.
“Some have claimed that the video looks like a television violence scene, but TV doesn’t have the impact of reality. I was just inches from being dragged away, never to be seen again in one piece. My feet, legs, arms, neck, and other places I cannot mention are bruised, lacerated, and painful as I speak.
“They ripped my clothing, verbally assaulted me, tried to take away my humanity, my femininity. I was an object, slammed and tossed around with less respect than a sack of horse manure.” She winced, cleared her throat again, and took a sip of water.
Correspondents were motionless. As America watched, Brandi composed herself, looked straight into the camera, and took another deep breath.
“I am troubled in my sleep. I am frightened of shadows. A loud noise makes me jump. I barely hold it together at a ballgame because crowds terrify me. All day long, I have the urge to get into the shower and try again to wash those men off me. I cannot imagine the things I would have endured if — And I…I have a little girl who needs me. She’s not quite two years old.”
When she had finished, the air was too heavy to breathe. Network crews refocused their cameras to isolate her face. Poise, charm, brutal honesty — Brandi owned the room.
Cody’s blue eyes were larger tha
n poker chips. When he delicately took her hand and gazed into Brandi’s face, the sudden flush upon her cheeks went unnoticed by no one. It drove the oxygen right out of the building. Forget about traffickers and hit men. The best story was sitting right before them.
Daisy Baird of Women’s Family Culture Magazine inquired as to Brandi’s opinion on waiting until marriage for sex. She cited statements Brandi had made in one of her earlier published editorials.
“Sure. Okay.” Brandi told about the abusive relationship that had nearly cost her life and about her decision to return to the Christian values her parents had bestowed.
“I realized that I had been searching for the wrong things in a relationship. For men, love can sometimes be a recreation or an episode. But for me, love is not something I can turn on and off. I need more than just physical intimacy to be whole. I need the security of lifetime commitment, and I can feel safe only with a man who shares my values and who loves me enough to make me his wife before we occupy the same bed.”
A soft applause slowly made its way through the room.
“I can speak for Cody and myself when I say that we do not wish to judge anyone else, but at the same time, we would ask that others simply respect our values.”
Now the applause was robust. Brandi was not the sort to tap-dance around the issues. Cody stood up and asked for quiet. The room hushed when he turned to face her again.
“So you’re speakin’ for me now?” Cody folded his arms. “Thank God. Somebody needs to.”
Rousing acclamation burst forth and continued as the two worked their way to the exit, shaking hands and thanking everyone.
Cody’s cell rang. “You guys were electric! Hey, slugger! What was the name of that Solomon song you told me about?” Derek was certain his strategy would work.
The couple was escorted back to their suite. The next few hours would reveal initial reactions to their first public appearance. Brandi dozed with Knoxi while Cody napped in the next room.
They were awake when it was time for the six o’clock news and were surprised to learn that the televised news conference had already created national headlines. Brandi’s stunning transparency, having exposed her personal struggle, trusting millions of viewers with her story, and Cody’s reaction, esteeming her to the world, had stirred thousands of grassroots Americans.
Ronald Kingsley of Deep in The Heart magazine told it best:
“After Brandi had revealed all, killing us softly with a near fatal dose of bare reality, Cody took her hand and looked into her eyes. We, along with the rest of America, held our collective breath. Would he kiss her? Not one of us would have blamed him for loving her with all his soul.”
What Planet Are You From?
Sitting in their suite, Cody and Brandi watched the news story unfold in living color while nibbling at room service. Cody got up and paced. Brandi sat on the couch with arms folded.
“I don’t wanna see any more,” she said. “Just turn it off. They make us out to be two perfect people living in some sort of la-la land. Is this the way it’s gonna always be? Is this your agent’s brilliant plan? Armed bodyguards following us and standing outside our door? I feel shut in.”
Cody didn’t answer. Instead, he switched channels and sat back down. The televised Home Run Derby was in progress at the stadium. Baseball — his standard escape from troubling realities. The Derby is a popular event the night before the All-Star Game. Players with hefty home run totals are invited to participate. Cody had been asked, but had opted out because of exhaustion.
During breaks in the action, the network showed segments from the press conference along with highlights from Brandi’s basketball career and Cody’s baseball exploits.
The coverage of Brandi’s eighteenth-inning catch in Pittsburgh had spawned a life of its own. The spin was that Brandi had gone to the left-field pavilion to inspire Cody to hit a home run to her and win the game. Brandi’s one-handed catch above the bleachers completely overshadowed Cody’s improbable game-ending strikeout of Tanner McNair, one of the premiere hitters in baseball.
The media had now branded them the latest hot couple — two faultless people living the ultimate fantasy. Creating a fairy tale was the last thing they had wanted, and tonight they could think of nothing to say to each other.
Brandi now understood Cody’s last-minute reluctance to host a media conference, but she was troubled by his alternating explosive-reclusive behavior, and was uncomfortable with someone whose intentions she couldn’t read. He was charming, warm, and articulate but at times stiff and unknowable with a personality about as engaging as a chunk of Pennsylvania bituminous coal.
Soon, sitting on the sofa across from him, Brandi reached her limit. Stress, physical injuries, fatigue — she ached all over and wanted to excuse herself.
“You wanna keep Knoxi company while I bathe?” She winced after she had spoken. How would Cody fare alone with her toddler for the first time?
He nodded to her while he was glued to the screen watching the Derby. Tanner was taking his turn at the plate.
“Cody, did you understand what I just asked? Hello? Are you listening?”
“Yeah, yeah. I got this.”
“You got this? Is that all you can say? I’d really like to have a few minutes alone to relax. Are you okay being totally responsible for her?”
“I mean I got this. Go ahead.” He looked at the screen. “Attaboy, Sly!” He turned to Brandi. “Did you see that?”
“Never mind! I’ll just put her in the bath with me.” She attempted to pick up Knoxi, but the little scrambler ran toward Cody and clutched his pants leg.
The tiny girl flashed her huge eyes at Cody, who finally reached down and lifted her up. “See, I told you. We got this.” He looked at the toddler. “Isn’t that right, baby girl?”
“Her name is Knoxi.” She put hands on hips and tapped her foot. “Now listen to me. If she cries or if she even —”
“What is it about ‘I got this’ that you don’t get?”
Brandi was quiet. Indecision was written on every centimeter of her face. He toned it down. “I can handle it, okay? We’ll do fine.” He offered her a confident smile.
“All right. But you come get me if anything…I mean, just knock on the door, okay?”
Brandi hesitated, then disappeared into the bathroom. Knoxi was crazy about Cody, but he seemed disinterested. Would her daughter eventually get her heart broken? Would Knoxi cry as soon as she realized her mother had departed the room? She left the bathroom door open about an inch — a tiny space through which any sound of travail could make its way to her attentive ears.
Something was certain to go wrong. Cody could handle himself with bad guys and ballplayers, but little girls didn’t seem to be his specialty. I have a bad feeling about this.
But when she slipped into the whirlpool, she lost herself in the soothing bubbles and soft currents. Time spent alone was rare for a caring single mom. She would wash her hair, do her nails, and thank God for a few moments during which she could be caressed by the water and pamper herself.
In the next room, Knoxi yawned. Cody quietly took her into the adjoining bed chamber, sat down on the bed, and placed her on his lap. He put her head on his shoulder in an awkward attempt to get her to sleep, but she was more fascinated by his nose and wanted to squeeze it with her fingers.
Finally, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “I wrote this for you after the news conference today. This will be our secret, okay?”
The feisty girl displayed the peaches-and-cream dimples that she had inherited from her mother. Her wide eyes fixated upon his hands as he unfolded the paper and began to read.
His raspy voice made her smile. She placed her hand on his mouth and wrapped her fingers inside his lower lip as if to absorb through her touch the words he had written.
“Hey there, beautiful.
Did you notice that you leave me breathless?
Joy by surprise
And you’re so beautiful.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow you
All the days, all the days of your life.
There’ll be no mountain so high
That you cannot one day climb
For you are the apple of the Father’s eye.
Hey there, beautiful
Here’s to you, my little princess.
May the echoes of today
Love’s promise softly light your way.
Hey there, beautiful, hey, hey.”
When he had finished, she was asleep, her head on his shoulder.
He placed her on the bed and covered her. “You never know,” he said quietly. “One of these days, you’re gonna talk so much you won’t know when to shut up, just like your mom.”
Then he turned and saw Brandi standing in the doorway. Dripping wet hair, glassy eyes, and wearing a full-length kimono, her delicately-drawn smile left no doubt — she had heard every word. He folded the poem and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.
Like a pawn in the presence of a queen he stepped softly toward her. “I…didn’t mean that like it —” He paused. “Uh, did you know that Albert Einstein's mom thought he was retarded cuz it took him several years to learn how to talk?”
Brandi stared at him like a calf looks at a new gate. Her lips spoke not a word. She fashioned a dry towel around her head to cover her just-washed hair and never took her eyes off him.
Cody hung his thumbs on his front pockets. “Uh, how long have you been standing there?” He waited. Would she at least make a sound?
Sheepishly he dropped his eyes toward the floor. The ends of her wet hair had dripped onto the carpet, leaving a trail behind her all the way to the bathroom. Her slender pink toes, with newly polished Tangerette Pearl nails, peeked out from below the hem of her robe. A scab that reminded him of a saddle rode atop her left big toe, courtesy of her Friday-night tormentors.
At last, she focused on the folded paper in his breast pocket, held out her palm, and snapped her fingers. He handed it over.
Brandi opened it and silently stared at the crumpled page. Her ocean-blue eyes became moist, her nose blush red.
No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story Page 15