With no responsibilities after the work day ended, he enjoyed going to the bars downtown to spend his poker money. Jamie worked the closing shift at a pizzeria near the stadium. Summertime, no homework, and drinking with friends. Life couldn’t get any better.
And then it did.
Sammy informed him of an open position: assistant for the outbound sales team. “You’ve worked so hard,” he said, “we want to offer you this position before anyone else.”
Jeremy felt adrenaline pump through him. He was even close with Marisa, who had never mentioned searching for other jobs.
“I accept,” Jeremy said, unable to keep the grin off his face. “What great timing.” Positions rarely opened up during the season, and certainly not so soon after Opening Day.
“Beautiful. Glad to hear it. You’re joining one of the best teams in the organization and will play a vital role in their success.”
“When do I start?” Jeremy asked.
*****
After work, Jeremy decided to go out for dinner to celebrate. He walked to the popular pizzeria where Jamie worked. The neon sign on the building’s facade welcomed him to Deep Dish. He passed through the clouds of smoke on the patio and opened the door to the rich smell of Chicago-style pizza. A young girl greeted him from the hostess stand.
He asked for a table in Jamie’s section and she guided him through the bar into the main dining room. The restaurant was quiet, as the after-work crowd hadn’t filled in yet. The hostess led him to a table overlooking the street.
Jamie approached the table and put a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. She couldn’t kiss or hug him while on the clock. “Hey! How was your day?”
“I got a promotion.”
“A promotion?” Jamie asked, her jaw dropping. Jeremy loved how cute she looked in her work uniform with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, revealing big hazel eyes and high cheek bones. “You didn’t tell me you applied for a promotion.”
“I didn’t.” Jeremy turned from the window to face her. “They picked me for this job opening and offered it on the spot. I start tomorrow.”
“Wow, babe, how exciting. I should be off around eight if you want me to come and celebrate with you.”
“That sounds nice. You should stay the night.”
“Maybe. We’ll see how the night goes.” They hadn’t had much alone time in the previous month due to their conflicting schedules. Jeremy feared they might be drifting apart. In the beginning they’d spent every night together, regardless of their schedules.
“I really want to see you. I’ll even wait here till you get off.” Jeremy wanted to discuss his concerns with Jamie.
She gave a shy grin as she blushed, something she hadn’t done in a while. “Well, I guess if I must....” She kept a tight-lipped smile. “Let me go get you a burger.”
Jeremy waited in the booth and pondered how to approach the conversation later that night. Jamie wasn’t one for confrontation—he’d even seen her throw fits of rage if a discussion didn’t go the way she liked. But still, he figured getting his feelings out in the open would be much healthier than bottling it all in.
Jamie returned with a burger and a tall lemonade. “I’m off at eight. Just confirmed with my boss. Don’t worry about staying, I’ll be over around 8:30.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and Jeremy remembered how much he loved her despite their issues.
“Oh, good. We can watch some stand-up and relax. Haven’t done that in a while.”
“That’s not all we haven’t done in a while.” She grinned, knowing she could seduce her boyfriend as easily as tying her shoes. As Jamie walked away, his leg bounced up and down like Thumper from Bambi.
He attacked his burger with vigor while Jamie tended to a couple other tables. For a pizzeria, Jeremy thought they served perfect burgers.
*****
Jeremy arrived home just as the sun set behind the Rocky Mountains, filling the sky with a strong, orange glow. Ronnie was at work and wouldn’t get in until midnight.
On his drive home, Jeremy had decided his serious talk with Jamie would have to wait. He was on top of the world and he didn’t want anything to bring him down. Instead he wanted to use the evening to try and rekindle their flame in a more natural way.
He went straight for the kitchen when he walked in and poured a rum and Coke. The clock on the microwave read 7:55, glowing green. He slammed his drink and poured another. Two drinks in, he always felt his inner confidence soar through the roof.
He sat down to watch some Louis C.K., and before he knew it there was a knock at the door. He pulled it open to find Jamie leaning against the door frame.
“Hey!” he said, moving aside to let her in. “Do you want a drink?”
“No thanks,” she said, putting her purse on the love seat next to the couch. “Are you drunk, babe?” Jamie asked, noticing the half empty glass on the floor and the bottle of rum on the kitchen counter.
“Nah, it’s only my first glass.” Some lies had to be told to avoid judgment.
“You know what, go ahead and pour me one. We have to celebrate.” Jamie walked into the bathroom.
Jeremy made her one and then topped off his own glass. He grabbed both glasses and went to find her.
She stood in the bathroom doorway, naked from head to toe, her hair hanging down to her breasts. Jeremy froze in his tracks.
“Why don’t you put those cups down and come join me?”
*****
They lay in the dark room, listening to the sounds of their breath slowing.
“Are we okay?” Jamie asked suddenly.
“You tell me,” Jeremy said, surprised.
“I don’t know. It seems like we’ve been more busy than ever since school finished.”
“We just need to make more of an effort to see each other.”
Silence fell, leaving only the rumblings of the TV in the next room.
Jeremy felt Jamie sit up beside him, and even in the pitch-black room he could feel her staring at him.
“I’m going,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. The sheets ruffled as she pushed them down, and the coolness of the night covered Jeremy’s bare body.
Here we go again, he thought. “Why are you leaving?” he asked, bracing for another one of her tantrums.
“You think we need to make more of an effort?” Jamie snapped. “I make plenty of effort. You get drunk. Seems like you can’t go a day without drinking.”
I only drink to deal with you. Of course he didn’t dare say this out loud.
“Babe, just get back in bed and take a deep breath,” Jeremy said. “We can talk about this.”
“Nope. Good night.” She stormed out of the bedroom, the glow of the TV flashing in. Jeremy heard the front door open and slam shut.
Headlights blared through his window, making him squint, and he jumped out of bed to look through the blinds just in time to see the headlights pull back and drive away.
She’s out of her fucking mind. Jeremy’s stomach dropped. He hated confrontation.
He grabbed his cell phone to call her. Her voicemail picked up after one ring.
“What did I do?” he whispered to his empty room.
7
October 2011
The remainder of baseball season zipped by, leaving the Bears behind as the postseason started. Jeremy had enjoyed working with the outbound sales team. The move from the call center provided more face time with the club’s executives, and he greeted them every time they walked by. His new manager, Matthew Harris, was a bit of a tight-ass, but seemed to relax as long as all the work got completed.
Jeremy sat down in Matt’s office one afternoon and looked out the window at downtown Denver. A small flood of people squeezed by one another on the sidewalks during the lunch rush.
Matt typed on his laptop from across his polished desk. His office was clutter-free, nothing on his desk but a pen and notepad. A matching cherry wood shelving unit stood against the wall behind Matt, and was also free of anything b
ut a framed picture of his wife, smiling a cheesy grin with her platinum-blond hair flowing behind her as she leaned back in an awkward pose.
Matt had never spoke of his wife or delved into his personal life at all in the five months working with Jeremy.
“What are you working on today?” Matt asked, looking up from the screen with his beady black eyes.
“I’m finishing up the season reports.” Jeremy slouched back in his seat, trying to relax.
“I wanted to fill you in on the game plan moving forward,” Matt said. His black fauxhawk seemed extra stiff today. “At the end of this week, you’ll be going back into the call center for the remainder of the off-season.”
Jeremy stared at him blankly. “And I’ll come back once we get close to the season?” Jeremy did his best to hide the panic in his voice.
Matt looked down at his crossed hands on his desk. “We’ll be evaluating the position as a whole come springtime, and will let you know at that point.” Matt gave Jeremy a blank stare. “Thank you for all your help this season.”
Did I just get demoted back to the fucking call center? A tick of anger arose in him, and shock spread its way through his body.
“Okay. Thanks.” He stood up and returned to his desk across the hall, staring blindly at his computer screen and trying to figure out what just happened.
Was it the fucking Pray at the Park Day? Jeremy wondered, thinking back. Matt had offered Jeremy the chance to meet the Christian rock band performing for the event, but Jeremy had no interest and ended up not going despite being at the game.
Pray at the Park Day was a special event created by Matt a few years back. August always was low in ticket sales, so he reached out to Christian churches in the area and got a local Christian rock band to play a post-game concert.
The event showed instant results, selling 30,000 tickets for a game that normally averaged 20,000. Matt ran with the success the following season and started promoting the event before the season started. He had managed to persuade the owners to hire the hottest Christian band in the country, The Revelations.
Word spread about the concert and tickets for Pray at the Park sold out by June, two months ahead of the date. Matt pulled in nearly a million dollars from the event, and earned his promotion to the director of outbound sales.
In 2010, Jeremy attended the event for his first and last time. He sat in his usual left-field bleacher seats. The dry heat beat down on the crowd on day games in July and August. The stadium’s 50,000 seats all being full caused an extra level of discomfort as people in the bleachers squished together.
Wrong day to not have my own seat, he thought as a wheezing woman sat next to him with her two young boys. The woman had her dark red hair in a ponytail over her sun visor. The bill of the visor had small crucifixes pinned to each side. She wore a purple shirt with an image of angel wings spread apart around a baseball that read “St. Matthew’s” across the middle.
Oh, God, Jeremy thought, realizing he was in the middle of a large church group fresh out of Sunday morning mass. The two boys yapped to their mother, begging for hot dogs. They had the same purple shirts, and streaks of sunscreen across their arms and face.
“If you sit still and relax, we’ll get hot dogs after the game starts.”
The boys, obviously brothers, dropped their heads and sat back on the bleachers with their arms crossed.
“Don’t ever have boys if you can help it,” she leaned over and whispered to Jeremy. He returned a kind chuckle, keeping his eyes fixed on the grounds crew putting their final touches on the field.
More purple shirts crowded the section, along with small crucifixes, Bibles, and a handful of John 3:16 signs.
“Praise God for such a beautiful day!” a man shouted from the front row, getting a collective “Amen!” from those surrounding him.
What the fuck? Jeremy suddenly felt anxious. He was a Catholic, but too much was too much.
His parents had raised him to never judge or discount other religions, but the park was packed with hard-core Christians—and they weren’t afraid to force their agenda onto others. Pray at the Park was supposedly open to all faiths, but a quick look around suggested otherwise.
A church choir proceeded to sing the National Anthem and the crowd hummed along. Beads of sweat dripped down Jeremy’s back.
“Please remain standing for a word from our very own Steph Johnson,” the PA announcer said.
The crowd roared as the team’s left fielder strolled to the microphone behind home plate.
“Welcome everyone to Pray at the Park, what a great turnout!” Steph said to more applause. “I wanted to take a moment to lead us in a pre-game prayer. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
At least 90 percent of the crowd bowed their heads in unison.
“Heavenly Father, we gather here today as one, to honor you on this beautiful Sabbath. Please keep all of us safe today. We on the team thank You for this tremendous opportunity to play professional baseball. We look forward to an afternoon of fun in Your name. Amen.”
Forty thousand people thundered a strong “Amen” together and ruptured back into applause as Steph Johnson trotted back to the dugout. Jeremy’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Jamie.
“Hello there.”
“Hey babe, how’s it going? I have a few minutes on my break, just wanted to check in.”
“Well, this is gonna be an interesting game.” He lowered his voice and cupped a hand over his mouth. “There’s a bunch of Jesus freaks here.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she chuckled.
“I might have to get out of here.”
“Sorry, babe. I’ll call you when I get off.”
What happened to keeping religion separate from other things? There’s no need to be praying at a baseball game.
He rose from his seat, stepping into the aisle. His employee badge granted him access to the underground tunnels to surpass the herd of people surely gathered on the concourse. He took the stairs to the bottom of the section and gave a nod to the section’s regular beer vendor, an old, crazy-looking man with a handlebar mustache and peanut earrings.
At the bottom his favorite usher, Barb, greeted him. Her short and scrawny frame combined with her snow-white hair made her seem nonthreatening, but she could pounce on rowdy fans like an attack dog.
“Hey, young man. How are you doing today?” she asked with a grin. Her teeth glowed against her sun-soaked skin, which had absorbed plenty of rays over the years.
“Barb, great to see you. Gonna head up to the office for a bit to cool down.”
“Of course. I’ll see you around.” She patted his back as he walked by her toward the tunnel.
He swung open the large steel door and the smells of hot dogs, popcorn, and beer gave way to the musty stench of the underground. The sounds of the crowd and the announcer became muffled.
The tunnel had its own behind-the-scenes world of activity. Concession workers ran around in chaos, while ushers socialized during their breaks. Security led a stumbling man to the underground holding cell, clearly one of the few in the crowd who skipped morning mass.
Jeremy nodded to the security guard as he passed. The usual staff stood guard outside of the teams’ locker rooms and gave friendly grins to Jeremy as he walked by. He reached the elevator behind home plate and took it to the first floor, where staff were sparse during games.
In the call center, he was surprised to see Herman Jeffries at a desk in the back row. Herman only worked about six hours each month and still had access to two tickets for all eighty-one games of the season. Lewis had warned Jeremy about him, claiming he was bad company and an all-around cheapskate.
Herman sat directly in front of Sammy’s office, reclined with his hands behind his head, and a tight polo shirt showing bulging muscles. His blonde hair appeared freshly buzzed, and he looked at Jeremy from behind the glasses that rested on his pointy nose.
“Hey there, cowboy,” Herman
said. Jeremy had noticed that he never called anyone by their actual name.
“Hey, Herman. What you up to?”
“Just watching the game from here.” He nodded to the tube TV at the front of the room. The Bears had just surrendered a home run. “I like to watch the game muted. Our commentators are total shit.”
“Very true,” Jeremy agreed with a grin.
“Besides, all those Bible thumpers are out there. I’m A-okay in here.”
Jeremy nodded, noticing that Herman had his computer on and the ticketing software open. “What you doing there?”
“Oh, just some research for my other job,” Herman said, narrowing his eyes as he assessed Jeremy. “How would you like to make some extra money on the side?” His eyes reminded Jeremy of a snake.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you ever heard of the term opportunity cost?” Herman asked.
Jeremy looked around the call center to confirm no one was within earshot, then shook his head.
“I learned about it in my economics class,” Herman said. “It’s the idea that items are worth exactly what someone is willing to pay for them.
“For example, say you have a ticket for the Super Bowl that has a face value of a hundred dollars. Now say I come and offer you a thousand dollars for that same ticket and you reject my offer. Even though you only paid one hundred, the ticket actually cost you a thousand because I was willing to give you that amount. You had the opportunity to make a grand. Make sense?”
“Yeah. Sort of,” Jeremy replied, lowering his brow.
“It makes more sense when you see it in action. I apply this theory to event tickets and resale them to the black market, where opportunity costs run wild.”
“So you’re a scalper?”
“Of course not. You won’t see me in the street trying to hustle people. This is pure business, a microeconomics principle.”
“So you’re doing this with Bears tickets?” Jeremy asked, becoming more intrigued.
Insanity (Insanity Series, Book 1) Page 3