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The pitch came in, and the crack of the bat was almost too loud, unreal in its intensity. The ball shot off the bat and soared into the outfield. I hopped to my feet and watched as it flew deep into right-center field. Tamara’s hand found mine, and we jumped up and down as we watched it fly.
And then it died on the warning track, the fielder making a spectacular catch, running into the wall and bouncing off, tumbling backward and then holding his glove in the air.
“Oh man,” Tamara said.
“Well, even if he got out, he certainly looked good doing it,” Steven said, watching as Graham trotted back to the bench.
He shrugged and smiled, and I felt my heart flutter again, very much against any rational thought. Just before he went down the stairs, he looked up to me and winked.
“Oh my God, did you see that?” Dale shouted.
“He winked!” Tamara said. “He winked at you; I saw it!”
“He could be winking at anyone,” I said.
“Like me,” Steven said. “I mean, how well do youreallyknow him?”
“Oh, honey,” Dale said, patting his knee. “No, honey.”
The two exchanged a look, and Steven huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Tamara and I sat down, and I could feel the muscles of my cheeks getting sore. My face was flushed, and I felt hot under my shirt, grabbing it and yanking it a few times to cool myself. Tamara sat back and took a deep sip from her drink.
“That boy is hot,” she said. “You didn’t tell me he was hot like that.”
“You’ve seen him. On TV. I showed him to you,” I said.
“Yeah, but that was TV.”
I shook my head. This was insane. Why did he have this kind of an effect on me years later? It was like seeing him turned me into the same awkward teenage girl, following him around with puppy dog eyes even though he had no idea I was there.
“Miss?” the old man ahead of me said, getting my attention. He was pointing to the aisle. “There’s a man trying to get your attention.”
I looked in the direction he was pointing and saw a man in a yellow security jacket. He was pointing to me, and when I looked at him he nodded and then gestured for me to join him.
“What’s that all about?” Tamara asked.
“Did you smuggle in drugs?” Steven asked. “And didn’t share?”
Dale slapped him on the shoulder as I passed them, heading toward the security guard.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Would you come with me please?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, somewhat nervously.
“Someone asked for me to come get you, but we must be discreet.”
I nodded, following him up the steps to the well and then down and around a while until we reached a door that was guarded by several security guards. The man with me showed his badge, and they opened it up, letting us inside a long hallway that angled down. It felt like we were heading all the way down to the field level, and when we reached the door at the end, I realized we were in the club level area between the two dugouts.
The door opened, and a row of doors with numbers above them were in a long hallway going horizontally. The guard led me to room number six and opened the door. I gasped when I went inside.
I was standing in a small room that had a bathroom just off to one side and a bar on the other. The bar looked completely full, and nothing was locked up. There were couches and chairs all over the room and a giant television showing the presentation of the game on TV. But the big draw were the giant floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the field. If I sat down on the couches or chairs, it would be like I was sitting on the ground just behind the catcher and off to one side toward first base.
“Wait here, please,” the guard said behind me. “You are welcome to help yourself to the bar and watch the rest of the game.”
As exciting as it all was, I was confused and kind of sad. I wished I could have shared this with my friends. But the need for discretion meant that I was worried about even sending them text messages with pictures. That didn’t stop me from taking them, though. I texted to let them know I was okay and to try to enjoy the rest of the match without me.
