Run to You

by Ginger Rapsus

  “Sounds good to me. I need a night out. Hey, I can’t stay on the line. Ma ordered a pizza, and she has a landline phone.”

  April and Greta said their goodbyes, and Greta hoped Mother wouldn’t question her to death about her night out. Mother always nagged her to find a guy, but she was a tad overprotective too.

  Brandon climbed on the exercise bike and got to work.

  He always did this, cycling for a half hour or so after a game. The trainer said it was to get the lactic acid out of his system. He didn’t care what it was, but he knew the other guys did it, and it was part of being a hockey player. And all the guys had to work that much harder, after losing to Milwaukee, one of the two expansion teams.

  “Yeah, Sparky. Get going. Get those legs working.” Zach took the bike next to his buddy.

  Brandon closed his eyes. “Lousy game. I don’t want to know my stats.”

  “Olympic hangover,” said Zach. “Me, too. If Boston wins, they tie us for first.”

  The teammates kept cycling, not saying a word. Brandon tried to concentrate on his game, his exercise plan. Tomorrow there was another workout, before flying down south for a road trip. Florida in March didn’t sound too bad. Chicago weather was weird in March. Sunny and springlike one day, a snowstorm the next.

  He tried to think about anything but seeing Terri in the big bed, with that Swedish forward.

  Brandon made up his mind never to trust another woman. And it was too bad. Some of those girls he met at autograph signing, at team events, or out on the town looked nice.

  So did that girl from the hospital, Greta. Greta…what? He didn’t get her last name. But she was tall and pretty and not overdone. She didn’t wear too much makeup, like a lot of the dollies he met, or some of the Ice Bandits wives. Dale Wallace’s wife had been a model, and she still wore so much makeup, Brandon thought her face would crack.

  Greta, with her blonde hair and bright green eyes, and how she looked directly in his face when she talked to him. She worked in the jewelry store where he went looking for his ring. He remembered where the store was, and the name, South Side Precious Metals, so if he wanted, he could go back in and ask…

  No. No way. Concentrate on your game, Brandon, he told himself. Hockey is good to you. You make a good buck, fans cheer for you, and you play in the National Hockey League. The NHL. They signed you to a good contract, and they gave you every opportunity to make it big. And here you are, on an Ice Bandits team fighting for the Stanley Cup.

  Be good to the game, Brandon, not to some babe who could do you wrong.

  Mr. Blakely didn’t call too many staff meetings, so Greta knew something was up when he asked everyone to gather early, half an hour before South Side Precious Metals opened for business.

  He played with his fingers, and rustled a pile of papers. His face looked drawn, as if he had been up most of the night worrying.

  “This is not good news,” he began. “Regardless of the price of gold, we are not doing that well. Money is tight.”

  Greta prayed, please don’t lay off anyone. Especially her. She needed her job.

  “No raises this year. No bonuses. And I’m sorry to say this, but if business doesn’t pick up pretty soon, we may have to close operations entirely.”

  Close down the entire business? Greta didn’t think she heard right.

  “Mr. Blakely, we had lines to the door all day Friday. We saw how many people? And I’m behind on my projects.”

  “Greta, I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. The accounting department finished the books for last year. Numbers don’t lie, and we just don’t have the numbers. Things are tough all over. Look at all the vacant shops in this mall alone.”

  This news was as welcome as a yeast infection.

  “Okay, that’s it. Back to work.” Mr. Blakely looked down at the floor, then slowly walked back to his office, a small cubbyhole in the back.

  No one said a word. They were all thinking about what Mr. Blakely told them.

  Greta made up her mind to concentrate on her work, her current projects. She would learn new styles and new ways of doing things to make herself indispensable. Isn’t that what they said to do, in those job hunting books? She would be so good at her job that Mr. Blakely couldn’t get rid of her. She would take on some big jewelry project that no one wanted to do, and she would do it so well that she would get noticed.

  “Hey, Greta. Cheer up. We all still have our jobs.” Steve, the coin expert, stood at her desk.

  “I guess so. For now, anyway.”

  “Maybe someone will walk in the door with a rare coin. Then we’d be OK. We’d refer the seller to that coin firm downtown, and they’d sell it at a big auction, and we’d get a good finder’s fee.”

  “You’re a dreamer, Steve.”

  “Before I forget, your mother called.” He grinned. “She said when you call her back, let the phone ring for a long time. She might be sitting on the toilet.”

  Greta had to laugh, even after that meeting. Her mother.

  When times were bad, when worries popped up, Greta would lose herself in her work. No matter what, there was always another project, another bracelet or ring order to do, with new materials and new ways of producing something beautiful.

  This was one day when Greta concentrated on her job and got a lot done. Her co-workers didn’t chat much on this day, after that meeting, so she wasn’t distracted. She worked slowly, taking her time, making sure the engraving was just right. Everything had to work together for the complete project. Working in this way produced great results. Quiet and slow.

  Like a relationship with someone special?

  Chapter 5.

  “How’s my favorite White Sox fan?”

  Greta watched her friend and the ballpark usher embrace. They spoke for a moment. April signaled Greta to follow her.

  “Come on. We don’t have to sit way in the upper deck. This usher can sniff out the box seats, so we can sit up close to the action.”

  The girls walked to a choice section near the White Sox dugout, only a few rows up.

  “We can’t sit here…”

  “My pleasure, ladies.” The usher, a kindly old gent about sixty-five, smiled at Greta. “You are April’s friend? Your name is…”

  “Greta. It’s nice to meet you. These seats are ours?”

  “These two seats, for you and April. April’s a regular. She’s a good fan, and good fans deserve the best.”

  April nodded and smiled at the usher. “Thanks again, Elmer. You always come through.”

  He tipped his hat, a black and white Sox cap. “Anytime, my dear. I’ll be back to check on you later. Enjoy the game.”

  Greta looked around at the vast ballpark, at the crowds of fans finding their seats, at the big grassy field where the Sox players warmed up.

  “How do you rate? These seats are fantastic.”

  April settled in her seat. “Elmer’s such a nice guy. He usually works here, in the deluxe box seats. When a season ticket holder doesn’t show, he sneaks me into one of their seats.” She tucked her purse under her arm. “It’s not as cold here as in the upper deck. That’s a good thing. Opening Day, it was forty-five degrees, and I almost froze.”

  This was Greta’s first major league baseball game, and she couldn’t believe how big everything was. She looked at the jumbo scoreboard, the moving screen, where the statistics of the White Sox and the Minnesota Twins were posted.

  “How are the Twins? Are they good?”

  “Yes, so far. They’re picked for first place this year. No one ever picks the Sox, but they look really good this year.”

  Fans cheered as game time approached, and the lineups for both teams were announced. Then everyone stood for the National Anthem, sung by some local guy the girls never heard of.

  “Some big shot is throwing out the first pitch,” said April. “I’m not sure who.”

  A tall, muscular young man with long dark hair ambled to the pitcher’s mound.

  “He
looks familiar,” April commented.

  Greta recognized him right away.

  Fans cheered loudly as the big shot was introduced.

  “Throwing out tonight’s first pitch, the star defenseman for your Chicago Ice Bandits! Olympic gold medal winner, Brandon Taylor!”

  Brandon waved, acknowledging the crowd. His gold medal gleamed around his neck. He wore a White Sox home jersey with his name and his Ice Bandits number, 48, on the back. He wore black jeans, keeping to the black and white color scheme. The jeans fit tight around his long legs.

  “Look who’s here! We get to see him again.”

  Greta watched Brandon say something to the Sox catcher. Then Brandon wound up and threw the ball, low and inside.

  “Not bad. Maybe he could play baseball too.” April applauded with the other fans.

  Greta saw Brandon shake hands with the catcher, wave to the fans again, then walk to the box seats. She wondered where he’d sit. Maybe upstairs in the enclosed luxury boxes on this cool night, with the other important people, not in the lower deck with the regular fans.

  Brandon walked through the crowd, surrounded by security. Greta couldn’t follow him, there were so many ushers and cops around him.

  The game began. Greta watched the players, but sneaked a look around her, in the surrounding box seats, looking for the tall young man with the long dark hair. She wondered if he’d wear his Olympic medal as he sat and watched the game. Or maybe he just threw out that first ball and left the park.

  She didn’t want to think that.

  Before long, the Twins were leading 3-0, and in the top of the third, had the bases loaded. Greta did not follow baseball too closely, but she knew this was not the White Sox’ best game of the season. She became bored, and decided to take a walk around the huge stadium.

  “I’m gonna get a hot dog. You want anything?” She asked April.

  April was into the game, watching every move, and waved off her friend. “Go ahead.”

  Greta rose from her seat, and looked around the park. She figured a lot of workers from Holy Family Hospital, April’s workplace, would be at the game. She knew one or two of April’s co-workers, and thought maybe she could run into one of them, have someone to talk to. Many fans just went to games to eat and drink anyway. Or to pick up a new date.

  The nice usher approached her. “You’re with April. Did you give up on the game already?”

  “I guess.”

  He bent close to her, and spoke low. “Would you like to meet an Ice Bandits player?”

  Greta stared at the usher.

  “If you’d rather not, that’s okay…”

  “No, no…I mean, yes! Yes! I’d love to meet him!”

  The usher grinned. “He wants to meet you. He saw you in the stands, and he asked me to introduce you…”

  She felt giddy and anxious, about to talk to this good-looking young hockey player. She thought she’d never see him again. And he wanted to talk to her!

  Greta followed the usher to an area near the net, behind home, where a security guard and a few more ushers stood, near the Ice Bandits player, so no one would bother him during the game.

  Her knees trembled as she walked down the stairs to his section.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name…”

  “It’s Greta.” She and Brandon spoke at the same time. Again, like they did in the hospital.

  “Hey, I thought you didn’t know her.”

  Brandon flashed his big smile. “I met her in a hospital. I thought that was you.” He patted the empty seat next to him, and Greta sat down.

  Greta smiled back at him. “I knew that was you. I recognized you. Even without your Ice Bandits uniform.”

  “I do look different when I’m not wearing my uniform.” He winked, and she blushed.

  “I didn’t mean it that way…”

  “How about a beer?” Brandon waved to a vendor, who hustled over to his famous customer. The vendor quickly poured two cold ones for Brandon and his date.

  His date? Well, it sure looked that way.

  Greta opened her purse and reached for her wallet.

  “What are you doing?” Brandon asked.

  “I’m paying for my beer.”

  Brandon laughed. “Come on! I can afford to buy you a beer!”

  “I’m used to paying for my own.”

  “This one’s on me, okay?” He smiled. “I signed a big contract. I think I can afford the price of a beer. Even at a ball game.” Brandon was impressed. Every other girl he met, including Terri, expected him to pay for beer and food, and buy her more things on top of that.

  “Do you like baseball? I never paid much attention when I was young. Too busy playing hockey.”

  “My girlfriend April is a fan. And I am, too,” Greta added. She didn’t want to look stupid. If she didn’t follow baseball, what was she doing at a game?

  The fans roared as the White Sox pitcher struck out the Twins batter, leaving the bases loaded. The Twins did not score, but still led 3-0.

  “Good!” Greta clapped her hands. Then she looked up at the jumbo scoreboard, scanning the box seats, and saw herself, sitting next to Brandon. She brushed her hair out of her eyes.

  Brandon was cool about it. “If you’re with me, get used to cameras and scoreboards.”

  But not too many fans bothered them. Elmer, besides his ushering duties, managed to keep autograph hounds away from Brandon, so the hockey player was able to drink a beer and enjoy the game.

  He also found himself enjoying the company of Greta, the girl he met at the hospital. Well, that’s where they really met. She didn’t declare herself to be his biggest fan, or dress skimpy to show off her assets, like so many of the girls who approached him. On this cool night, Greta buttoned up her blue denim jacket.

  And Greta wondered what April would think. This hockey player wanted to talk to her again, so she ditched her best friend to sit with him. But Greta certainly didn’t plan to leave with this guy. Oh, no. A pro athlete probable had all the girlfriends he could find, and she wasn’t about to become another one of his statistics.

  “How did you like throwing out the first ball?” Greta asked him.

  “Oh, it was nice.” Brandon took another sip of his beer. “I wanted to do it good. I didn’t want the pitch to go sailing over the catcher’s head.”

  She looked at him. “Where is your medal?”

  “Oh, one of the public relations guys is keeping it for me, until after the game is over.”

  “Is it engraved with your name? What kind of design?”

  Brandon, who was happy to win the medal and didn’t pay attention to the design, was not aware his companion was a jewelry professional.

  “I was just wondering. I’m a jewelry designer and engraver, and I’ve never seen an Olympic medal up close.”

  “You’re a jewelry designer? How did you get into that?”

  Greta told him her story, how she loved art as a child, and studied art in college, and did extra projects besides her homework assignments, which led to the job at South Side Precious Metals. Just the basics, so Brandon wouldn’t stop listening.

  But Brandon listened. She wasn’t like any other girl he’d ever met.

  As the game wore on, with no further changes in the score, Greta and Brandon began people-watching. “You really see the sights in the stands at a Sox game.” Greta discreetly pointed to a young lady wearing a low cut, thin white shirt, no bra, and tight pants cut low on her hips. Even in cold Chicago weather, some young women dressed skimpy, especially if a pro athlete was around.

  The young lady looked toward Brandon, licked her lips, and hiked up her pants.

  Brandon sighed, and rolled his eyes. “You see a lot of sights at an Ice Bandits game, too,” he said, not looking at the young lady, who started walking toward his section.

  The kind usher approached the young lady, said something to her, then shook his head. She walked away, pouting.

  “I guess she wanted your autogr
aph.”

  “I guess she wanted more than an autograph.” Brandon sipped his beer. “How about something to eat? You look like you haven’t had a good meal in days. Are you on a diet? No, not if you’re drinking beer.”

  “Maybe I’ll have a hot dog.” Before she knew it, a vendor appeared with hot dogs for the two fans. Greta devoured her hot dog.

  “I was right. You haven’t eaten in awhile, have you?” Brandon looked at her slim figure.

  “No lunch today. We were so busy at work. I got out late, and I barely had time to get ready for the game.”

  Brandon polished off his hot dog. “You were never a model, were you? Models don’t eat hot dogs. They eat lettuce leaves.”

  Greta laughed at his remark. “I’m an engraver. I make fine jewelry. Remember when you came to my store? That’s where I work, South Side Precious Metals. We buy and sell metals, jewelry, rings.”

  Brandon suddenly remembered his missing gold ring.

  “Do you ever find something really valuable?” This girl was different from the young ladies he usually met, like the girl he met on Rush Street, who tried to impress him with talk of show business, and how she’d be a star someday. Greta worked. She had a real skill, a real career.

  Greta forgot the game as she explained to Brandon exactly what she did. He asked how she trained for such a career, and she told him the story of her art school, her special projects, her senior project that impressed the president of the school so much that he bought it.

  She enjoyed talking about her work, even if everything did not always go smoothly. Brandon enjoyed hearing her stories. He found himself listening, really listening, to this girl, and enjoying the company of a woman for the first time since his last days with Terri. Terri had “dabbled in modeling,” but didn’t have a real career, let alone years of training in any field.

  Brandon spoke of his work too. Greta had never really met any athlete, even in school, and she had no idea how many years of practice went into becoming a hockey player.