Holly glued herself to the television when she wasn’t working. The playoff games went back and forth. The Bluejays won the second and third games. The Nighthawks rallied to victory in game four. Five was up for grabs. If the ’Hawks won, they’d be heading to the World Series.
Game five was a night game in Boston. The Hatch family ate a quick dinner then settled in front of the television. On only five day’s rest, Dan was pitching. Holly’s heart thudded faster and faster with each inning. The score was one-nothing, on a Jake Lawrence homer. This game was for the title, and the pressure was enormous.
When the camera zoomed in, Holly noticed the lines in Dan’s face and that he kept swiping at the sweat on his forehead. Tension was so high, it made her skin tingle. Dan appeared to be accepting Matt’s signs and firing off the right pitches.
If the first game was a pitcher’s duel, this one was even more so. The ball’s kept coming in faster and faster. Dan threw his first one hundred mile-an-hour fastball. He kept blowing ’em by the batters, even Rawley Banner.
But the Nighthawks were no better at hitting. Strike-outs, ground-outs to alert fielders, and an occasional long ball to the outfield plucked out of the air by an alert outfielder. Except for Jake, no one got good wood on the ball. Holly chewed a nail as Dan came up to bat. He squared around to bunt the first pitch, but backed off in time to have it called a ball. Looking cool, he took two more balls. Holly guessed he was in knots inside. Batting always made him nervous.
The do-or-die pitch was right over the plate, and Dan swung away. He hit a blooper over the head of the short stop and ran like Hell. His foot touched the bag a split second before the ball arrived. His was the first single of the game. The fans went wild, waving towels, banners, caps, and screaming.
Holly leapt up cheering. She raised her arms and danced around the room. His hit started a rally, with Nat Owen getting a base hit on a grounder. Skip lined out to the pitcher. Bobby walked, loading the bases, and Jake stepped up to the plate.
She watched his body language. He was solid, confident. And sure enough, the pitcher goofed, sending one high and down the middle, exactly where Jake liked his pitches. He put it away for a grand slam homerun!
Sean Hatch threw popcorn in the air, Holly bounced around the room like a jack rabbit, and even Tresa was clapping. With a five to nothing lead, the ’Hawks didn’t need Dan, so he was relieved by Moose Macafee, ace reliever and closer for the Nighthawks.
The Bluejays managed to score one run in the eighth, but the game was over in the ninth when their last batter flied out to center field. Joy whipped through Holly. The Nighthawks were going to the World Series! Happiness mixed with the pain of not being able to talk to Dan. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, celebrate with him, and bed him. But none of that would happen, so she had to be thankful for the interview he gave to the media.
Grinning like an ape, cap off, hair soaking wet, he spoke to the interviewer.
“So, Dan, how does it feel to be going to the World Series?”
“Awesome, Sandy.”
“Did you expect to win?”
“I never expect anything. But with this incredible team behind me, I couldn’t lose.”
“What about your new slider?”
“Worked like a charm.”
“What are you going to do to celebrate?”
“Rest up. I’m on tap for the first game of the series.”
“No partying? That’s hard to believe.”
Dan laughed and looked down at his hands. “Well, maybe. A little.”
“Anyone special joining your party?”
The pitcher looked up at the camera, and the smile left his face. “Nope. Just the guys. Can I send a message to someone?”
“Sure, if it’s PG, Dan. Go ahead.”
“Holly, baby, this game was for you.” He blew a kiss.
Holly teared up.
“See? I told you,” Sean said. “He has a girlfriend. Named Holly. Sorry, Carrie. Better luck next time.”
She blinked the water away and nodded at Sean.
“I’m not surprised,” Tresa put in. “Guy who looks like that and can throw the ball that fast. He’s a winner.”
Joy seeped out of her like air from a punctured tire. Not telling them she was the Holly he’d mentioned was the hardest thing she’d done in months. She bit her lip, placed her hand over her mouth, and swallowed the words she wanted to share. She wasn’t nobody. She was somebody. She was Dan’s girl, wasn’t she?
Dan was the best. Holly kept quiet. She was a loser. A big loser. Though it warmed her heart that he’d dedicated the game to her, how long would that last? How much longer would she have to wait.
Overcome, she left the room and ran up the stairs, into her room, and slammed the door shut. She didn’t care what the Hatch’s thought. Let them wonder what’s wrong with her. Let them think Sean had pissed her off.
She’d done nothing but pay for her mistake with Flash Kincaid for the past two years. Would her punishment never end? The selfish, thoughtless, reckless girl that she had been was gone. She threw herself down on her bed, lying on her stomach, her head turned to rest on her pillow. Someday, this would be behind her. She picked up her new cell and dialed.
“Is this an emergency?” Barb Finn asked.
“Not really.”
“Oh? What’s up?”
“Did Al tell you about a promise he made to me?”
“Promise?”
“Please call him. He owes me this.”
* * * *
It wasn’t easy to get Mary to give her the time off. Holly had been working hard and had made a place for herself in Mary’s business. She’d learned how to bake bread, croissants, and Danish. She lived closest to the shop, so she was given the key and expected to open up at five thirty and get things started.
But on this day, Mary had agreed to take over. As she boarded the bus, she recalled their conversation.
“I know you can’t tell me where you’re going or why. Tresa told me that. Told me never to ask you a lot of questions. I’m curious, but I’m not going to go against what she said. You’ve done a great job at the Bread and Butter. I’m grateful. Not easy to find someone as good as you for what I can pay. So, go ahead. I guess it’s important. See you in two days.”
The bus doors closed, and the driver put it in gear. As it pulled away, Holly gazed out the window. The farms they passed provided a beautiful view. Happiness flowed through her. For the first time in months, she was truly happy. She was heading for the World Series. She’d see Dan pitch the first game. Al Housman had pulled some strings and gotten the ticket Dan had left her switched for a box seat, between home plate and first base. She’d have a direct view of her man. She couldn’t stop smiling.
She arrived early. The box office wasn’t open yet, but she spied Bud Magee striding up the walk to the service entrance.
“Bud!” she called.
He turned. “Holly? Is that really you?”
She flew at him, and he enveloped her in a big hug.
“Great to see you, but what are you doing here?’
“When he got the conviction, the D. A. promised me I could come, if the Nighthawks were playing.”
“Dan’s pitching today.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
“He’s gonna be pumped to know you’re in the stands.”
“Please don’t tell anyone else.”
“Don’t you have a body guard with you?”
She shook her head. “Only money for one ticket in the budget.”
“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 Magee 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.