by Krista Lakes
Sabrina pulled back the thin curtains to the heavier ones on the side to look out the window. Never before had she been so high up in a building and it took a moment for her to convince herself that it was all real and not one big daydream. Her eyes perused the landscape and stopped when they came upon the Statue of Liberty standing tall in the bay.
Unbelievable, she thought, shaking her head in wonder. It was like something out of a movie.
Sabrina stared out the window for another several minutes before finally drifting to the bed. She collapsed face first into the comforter, enjoying the delightful fluffiness before immediately standing back up.
No time to relax. I should get unpacked and start trying to figure out something fun to do tonight, she thought.
She wondered when the bellhop would arrive when the phone on the nightstand rang. It was loud as could be and caused her to jump.
Who could that be? She thought, picking up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Ms. Wise,” a man said theatrically.
Sabrina quickly recognized the voice. It was Marco.
“Are you finding all of your amenities to be in order?” he asked, mocking an overly formal tone.
“Everything is incredible,” Sabrina replied, sounding a bit more awestruck than she’d intended.
“I'm very glad to hear it, love,” Marco said, his voice dropping back to its normal pitch. “I don’t know if you’ve had the television on at all, but I just saw my third commercial for the Yankees / Red Sox game this evening.”
Sabrina hadn’t even thought about turning on the TV yet. She’d been much too captivated by the show on display out her window.
“I'd like to attend this event,” Marco said after a short beat.
“You want to go to the game?” Sabrina asked.
“Yes. This evening, I'd like us to attend.” he said. “It appears that it must be a rather important game. Or at least that's how it has been advertised. It's certainly something for us to do.”
“I think there's a pretty big rivalry between those two teams,” Sabrina said. “Are you a baseball fan?”
“No, not exactly,” he admitted. “Are you?”
“My dad is. We root for the Atlanta Braves, and he watches the games on TV on his days off,” Sabrina replied. “Do you have a favorite team?”
“We don't have professional baseball where I'm from,” he explained. “But everyone knows about the Yankees. And we’re in New York. Let’s go to a game together.”
“The only problem, is that if the game is tonight there’s a good chance they might be sold out of tickets already,” Sabrina said. “It's probably been sold out for months.”
“It won't be a problem for Valetta,” he assured her as if it were the most casual thing in the world to get last minute tickets to a sold-out game. “Will you go with me?”
“I’d love to.” The words seemed to fly out from her chest instead of her mouth.
“Good, I'm delighted to hear it. It makes me happy that my maid/assistant/tour guide/company for the trip will join me on this little adventure,” Marco said and Sabrina loved the way he’d stressed the last title in the list.
Marco’s personal driver pulled up and stopped the vehicle in front of the stadium. As soon as the car stopped, Sabrina and Marco hopped out quickly, as if their exit were being timed. Marco pulled the brim of his plain cap down and put on his sunglasses.
Their ride drove off, and the two of them joined one of many lines of people being filtered into the stadium. The massive crowds reminded Sabrina of ants funneling into a colony. She felt glad to have Marco by her side and never allowed herself to get beyond an arm’s reach away.
Valetta had secured two club-level seats just to the right of home plate. From what she could figure, these were very good seats.
I guess a lot of money makes most things possible, she thought.
When the elevator opened on the club level, Marco stepped out and began walking as if he’d been there a thousand times. His type of confidence wasn’t conceited, but more of a levelheaded certainty, something that Sabrina found especially alluring.
Without warning he stopped abruptly and Sabrina nearly crashed into him from behind.
“I should buy a hat.” He turned to face her as the two stood to the side of a merchandise concession stand. “I'd like to wear a proper Yankees hat instead of this thing.” He removed the Polo hat he’d worn since their arrival in New York and Sabrina got another much appreciated sight of his hair ruffled into a perfect tangle.
“Which one do you like?” Sabrina asked, looking up and down at the various ball caps and other baseball paraphernalia.
“That black one,” he said, pointing to a cap in the top corner of the stand. Sabrina nodded and marched up to the stand.
“Excuse me,” she said, more assertively than she’d ever sounded before. “I’d like to purchase that hat.”
The man behind the counter grabbed it for her and she paid using her company credit card. The man cut off the tags for her before going to the next customer. It was a good thing Marco was rich because this stuff was expensive.
She turned around to see that Marco’s grinning at her. She handed him the hat.
“Thank you,” he said, and fixed the hat firmly on his head. “How does it look?”
“Looking a little more American,” Sabrina replied with a grin.
But still just as handsome, she thought to herself.
Marco bowed his head and laughed. “I’ll take what I can get,” he said.
“All you need now is an American Flag t-shirt and you'll be good to go,” Sabrina said, jokingly. “Or maybe one of those 'I Heart New York' ones.
Marco laughed and led them into the box where their seats were located. As soon as they stepped inside, her jaw hit the floor. It was better than anything she'd ever seen on TV. The view of the field was even more incredible than she could have ever imagined. It was breathtaking and caused to her to simply stare out across the stadium without saying a word.
After a minute of silence, Sabrina looked up and realized that Marco was also lost in a trance.
“This is crazy,” she said. For a moment, she felt like she should pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.
Marco lifted his stare from the field and looked over to Sabrina.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“I think it’s beautiful,” she whispered. She wished her dad could see this. It would be a dream come true for him, even if it was a Yankees' game and not his beloved Braves. No baseball fan could sit in this spot and not be awed.
Their seats were behind a thin table at the front of the club box, which opened into the evening air. The grass below them was so green and vibrantly alive that it looked almost neon. It was gleaming from the stadium lights that were bright stars against the dimming sky.
“I’ve never seen anything quite like this,” Sabrina said, after a moment. Her eyes were still scanning the view in front of them as she spoke.
“You’ve never attended a baseball game?” Marco asked, seeming quite surprised.
“Never,” Sabrina said.
She thought back to the games that her dad used to watch late at night on their miniature TV. Occasionally as a kid, Sabrina would join him and watch until she faded into boredom. They’re better in person, her father would always say, and he was right.
“Another first-time experience for both of us,” Marco said, using his elbow to gently nudge her arm.
Sabrina smiled. “I guess so.”
Just then came a voice from around her shoulder. “May I bring you some drinks?” A young man stood in the aisle staring down at them. Sabrina wanted to reach up and fix the hat that looked unintentionally slanted diagonally on his head.
“Do you happen to have a menu?” Marco asked.
The man reached into his back pocket, removed a laminated drink menu and handed it to Marco as if the action annoyed him. “There’s also one right there.
” He bobbed his head toward a menu sitting on the table a few seats down.
Sabrina continued to survey the stadium while Marco skimmed the menu.
“Two Malibu Dreamsicles,” he said, handing the menu back to the man standing in the aisle.
Sabrina’s head spun to face Marco and she looked at him, waiting to speak until the attendant left.
“What did you just order?” she asked.
“Something called a Malibu Dreamsicle.” He shrugged and grinned. “I've never tasted one before, but it sounded interesting. Have you ever had one?”
“Can’t say that I have,” Sabrina said. “But I won’t be starting now! I hope you planned on drinking both of those.”
“What? Why?” Marco seemed genuinely surprised.
“Because I’m on the job,” Sabrina explained. “It would be unprofessional.”
“No, it would not,” Marco corrected her. “We have already talked at length about this. I gave you a new list of responsibilities.”
“So?” Sabrina crossed her arms.
“So, as part of those responsibilities, you agreed to be my company on the trip,” he said. “What kind of company makes their friend drink alone?”
“A friend who doubles as an employee,” said Sabrina.
“Fair enough. But right now, your boss is ordering you to join him with a drink,” Marco said, and right on cue the attendant returned carrying two glasses with bright orange liquid. He picked them both up and held one out for her to take.
Sabrina took the glass with two hands as if it were some sort of chalice used exclusively for royalty. She sighed.
“What is this thing?” Sabrina asked, watching Marco stir the orange concoction around with a straw.
“A Malibu Dreamsicle,” he said matter-of-factly, and sipped from his glass. “Remember?”
“Right, but what is it?” Sabrina studied the drink in her hand, still hesitant to give it a try.
Marco sipped again and reached for the laminated menu in front of him. “It says its Malibu Orange Float Rum, Whipped Vodka, fresh orange juice and club soda.”
“Sounds intense,” she said. She looked doubtfully at the drink. She wasn't much of a drinker, but then again, she’d never really been offered much beyond cheap beer and an occasional pull of whiskey from her father’s flask. She’d certainly never had a drink prepared the way this one was.
“Give it a try,” Marco urged, taking a sip. “It's actually quite good.”
“What’s it taste like?” Sabrina hesitated. If this was anything like whiskey, there was no way she'd be able to drink it.
“Just try it,” he said. “It tastes even more magnificent than it looks.”
Sabrina sipped her glass, feeling the cold ice against her lips and the liquid pool in her mouth. With her tongue she pushed it into a stream down her throat and paused, waiting for the burn.
But it never came. The drink was sweet and pleasant.
“Do you like it?” Marco asked.
“It’s actually pretty good,” Sabrina admitted, taking another sip. “I’ve never had a drink like this.”
“But you do like it, right?” Marco asked. “I can order something else that’s not fruit-flavored if you'd prefer.”
“Oh, no. I like it a lot,” Sabrina said. She took an even bigger sip this time.
“Good.” Marco grinned, pleased with himself.
Sabrina watched him. She liked the way his lips curved as he smiled. Everything he did was elegantly refined and graceful in its own way, as if he were a painting constantly reworking itself.
There was a sudden roar in from the stands below, and Sabrina turned toward the field. She was no analyst but even she could tell the makings of a good play. She quickly spotted the ball rolling in the outfield. By the time an outfielder scooped the ball and rocketed it back, the runner was already rounding third base. Even if she couldn't have seen his uniform, it was obviously a Yankees' player given the howl of celebration coming from the crowd.
Sabrina looked over to see Marco straining his neck to watch the play unfolding in front of them. He watched it with rapt interest, his dark eyes taking in every motion on the field.
Suddenly, the roar of the fans reached its loudest decibel yet, and Sabrina looked away from Marco to see the runner touching home base. She felt a flurry of energy around her as people in the suite stood and cheered. Marco stood too, feeding off the energy.
He reached down and offered his hand. Sabrina humored his request and stood beside him.
“I think we just scored a goal,” Marco said and Sabrina couldn’t help but notice how he’d chosen to say ‘we.’
“He hit a home run,” Sabrina corrected gently. She shook her head in amazement. “An inside-the-park home run.”
Marco turned to her wearing a look that said he was confused, but enjoying himself all the same.
“He hit the ball in the outfield and they couldn’t throw it back in time, so he ran all the way home and scored,” she explained. “It's pretty hard to do.”
When they finally sat back down, Sabrina reached for her drink in the cup holder and realized it was less than half full. She’d drunk the thing like it was juice. Marco reached for his drink and she was relieved to see that his was also less than full, though not quite as empty as hers.
It wasn't more than a few minutes, though, before Marco ordered another two drinks from the attendant working the suite. They finished their first drinks right as the fresh ones were delivered.
Already Sabrina could feel the alcohol setting in. It’d been awhile since she’d drank, but still the buzz felt different than she was used to. Instead of the lift she felt from a few beers, her body was warm and heavy. It sank into her chair while the outside breeze was fuzzy on her face and fingers.
The next drink went quickly also. Too quickly.
Before she knew it, the attendant was circling back with yet another full Malibu Dreamsicle that he placed on the thin table in front of them. Sabrina’s eyes moved slowly as she focused on the third drink, her vision cushioned by a frame that shrank the size of the room around her. Her sips had turned into gulps and she took another drink before looking up at Marco.
Sabrina wanted to laugh, not at something but out of pure joy. She wanted to throw an arm around Marco and pull him close to her, but resisted the urge. Even though the alcohol was blurring the lines of her judgment, she felt like she shouldn't do that just yet.
“Enjoying yourself?” Marco asked, noticing her gaze fixed on him.
“I’m having a great time,” Sabrina said, her words lazy but still full of delight.
“Glad to hear it.” Marco beamed at her and she smiled back. It felt like the short distance between them was filled with a blissful connection that only alcohol could elicit, the sort of thing that felt tangible and fervently comforting.
The game itself had faded into Sabrina’s secondary focus. In the foreground was Marco, his firm stature and glowing skin, and the fuzzy sensation that had become as much a part of the setting as the stadium in front of them.
By the time the seventh inning stretch came along, Sabrina was feeling amazing. The alcohol had seeped into her veins and slapped a big goofy smile on her face. The best part, though, was that Marco was enjoying himself just as thoroughly. Almost too thoroughly. When the attendant came back with another round of drinks, Marco stopped him and forced him to sing along with him to “Take Me Out To The Ballgame.”
This is more entertaining than the actual game, she thought, as she watched Marco wrap his arm over the attendant's shoulder, forcing him to sway to the music.
The young attendant played along, though, and sang the lyrics at full volume. Sabrina decided to join in as well. She started singing quietly at first, but within a few verses, she was shouting the lyrics louder than anyone else in the suite.
This is so fun, she thought while trying to curb her giggles.
Sabrina reached for another sip from her drink. She couldn’t remember how many s
he'd had at this point. All she knew was that she was on cloud nine. Or cloud ten.
Is there a cloud eleven? she thought, as a small wave of dizziness swept through her.
Everything was clouds.
Everything was fuzzy.
Everything happened all at once, yet at a pace so slow she could watch it unfold in amusement.
The surrounding stadium faded out of Sabrina's perception and Marco was the only one left. He might as well have been the only person in attendance at the game. His every move was personified into a movie that Sabrina watched with a concentrated affection. She wanted him and didn’t even feel bad for it, thanks to the alcohol. The Malibu Dreamsicles had stirred a flurry of energy in her, a fire in her belly, a fire that wanted nothing more than to absorb Marco into a single blaze.
Sabrina could have sat there and stared at Marco forever, but there wasn't time. Because the next thing she knew, the game was over. Time had sped up and she had no idea what happened to it. One minute she was watching Marco trying to sing along to a classic American song and the next, she was stumbling behind him as he led her through a crowd of people. She was a fish in a stream, and the alcohol had made it so that the people around her were more like rushing water than actual bodies.
Marco looked back and must’ve taken notice of her crooked and clumsy steps, because he extended an arm that she gladly took. Linked together, the two ambled out of the stadium onto the street and into the blurred lights of the surrounding traffic.
Sabrina no longer felt the night air on her skin, like she was in a bubble of her own incoherent haze. Everything was moving fast and she had given up on trying to fight off the lens of fog in front of her eyes. She held onto Marco’s arm with both hands as the two waited for his driver. There was something about feeling him in her grasp that was both soothing and exciting at the same time.
After pulling up, the driver stepped out from the car, nodded at Marco and opened a back door.
Marco politely motioned for Sabrina to get in first. She fell into the car before wildly scooting to the opposite side to make room for him to follow.
