Dan Alexander, Pitcher

by Jean C. Joachim

  Bud wandered in. “So, there you are. I was wondering if you’d ever come up for air.”

  Holly colored under his scrutiny.

  “World’s longest date?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “I’m over twenty-one, Bud. Please, leave it alone,” she said, grabbing a handful of napkins.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. None of my business.” He turned.

  She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound sharp. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You saved my life. But I needed to have a night or two of a normal life. To have fun. It’s been a very long time since I could kick back and enjoy myself. Dan’s an amazing man.”

  “Just don’t hurt him, okay?”

  She laughed. “It’s more likely that I’ll be the one left to sing the blues, don’t you think?”

  Bud shook his head. “Who am I to say? I’ve been out of the dating scene for twenty years. Once I found the ideal woman, I stopped looking.”

  “You two are a great pair.”

  Bud smiled. “Good luck, Holly. Just be careful, okay?”

  She nodded, straightened her cart, and headed for the stands. She got there as the national anthem was ending. She spied Dan Alexander holding his cap over his heart. The teams hit the dugouts then the Nighthawks took the field.

  Before he started warming up, Dan looked up. Holly caught his eye. He smiled and doffed his cap. By now, this had become a regular routine. Fans turned to look for the woman he was signaling, but no one picked her. After all, she was only the Hot Dog Girl. What successful athlete would be interested in her? Her invisibility preserved her privacy.

  A secret smile graced her lips as she turned to walk up the steps. “Hot dogs! Get yer hot dogs!”

  They were playing a three-game series with the Boston Bluejays, their arch rivals. Then, the Hawks were hitting the road for a two-week trip.

  First pitch was a strike. Second one too. She stopped to watch as Dan struck out the first batter. It was a good omen. He had told her when he strikes out the first batter, it’s going to be a good game.

  In the morning, over coffee in bed, he had talked about confidence and how much it affected his pitching. He’d even gotten up and demonstrated how he threw a slider, as well as the difference between a sinker and a fastball. And he’d done it stark naked. Holly had tried to control her giggling, but had to hide her mouth behind her hand. It had been damn hard to focus on his fingers when there had been other things drawing her gaze.

  The next batter got a single, but the third one grounded to short, allowing Skip, Nat, and Bobby to execute the perfect double play to end the inning. She grinned at the pitcher as he left the mound and the Bluejays took the field. He glanced up, shooting her a grin before lowering his head and stepping into the dugout.

  Holly hawked food while she kept one eye on the field. Three up, three down—the Nighthawks were not any more successful at getting on base than the ’Jays had been. Dan headed for the mound. He didn’t look up, and she understood. He needed to focus all his attention on the game. Another grounder then a pop fly. Three batters up, three outs, and the score was still zero-zero.

  Scuddy Figeroa, the ’Jays pitcher, frowned. The look on his face told Holly that he wasn’t going to give up without a fight. Tension grew in the stands as the next three Hawks’ batters came to the plate. Now, she understood what the announcers meant when they said a game was “a pitcher’s duel.” She tugged on her lower lip with her teeth as she walked up and down the stands.

  Dan took the mound again. This time, the Bluejays got a single, right off the bat. With a man on base, the infield came in, the fielders on alert for a possible double play. But the ’Jays slugger took one to the left field corner, a stand-up double for him, and now, Boston had a man on second and one on third too. Their second baseman shouldered his bat and stared at Dan. Holly began to sweat.

  A high pop fly brought in the guy from third, but the Hawk’s outfield caught it and doubled the slugger off second, for two outs. Now, the score was one-zero, Boston’s favor. Dan got the next batter out on strikes. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve as he turned the mound over to Figeroa.

  The bottom of the sixth and the Hawks were losing. Chet Candelaria, playing centerfield, got up to bat. He hadn’t been hitting well this season, but he was a great fielder with one of the strongest arms on the team. Dan was in the on-deck circle.

  Holly had never seen him bat before. Chet got a blooper over the head of the shortstop into short center field for a single. Now, Dan stepped up to the plate. He’d told Holly how nervous batting made him. The trainers had been drilling him on bunting, he’d said. She wondered what he was going to do.

  Dan stood with the bat on his shoulder, staring at Scuddy, who let fly a sinker for ball one. Alexander dug his toe in the dirt and moved it around, swung the bat a couple of times, and then shouldered it once again. Scuddy wound up and fired a slider, high and outside, for ball two. Sweat broke out on Dan’s forehead. He wiped his face with his sleeve before taking his stance.

  Dan had explained to Holly that a pitcher never wants to walk the weakest batter on the team. And that was usually the other pitcher. Scuddy Figeroa was two bad pitches away from doing that, jeopardizing their lead. She saw him wipe his face too. One thing for sure, both pitchers were sweating up a storm. Chet took a huge lead off of first base. Tension cracked throughout the stadium. Holly chewed her lip.

  Dan raised the bat in the air and turned his attention to the pitcher, but just as Scuddy went into his wind up, Dan squared off to bunt. This time it was a fastball, right down the middle. Dan laid it down just a hair on the inside of the third base line and took off. The ball skidded along, staying in fair territory, and Alexander’s legs pumped as fast as they could. Scuddy raced to the ball, which dribbled toward him. He picked it up, bare-handed, and rifled it to the first baseman. But he was a fraction of a second too late.

  When the ball didn’t come whizzing by his head, Dan put on a burst of speed and beat out the throw. The Jumbotron showed the play in slow motion. Time out was called while the Boston manager figured out whether to challenge it or not. Dan took off his batting helmet and yanked his cap from his back pocket. He let out a breath, rested his hands on his hips, and turned his attention to the pitcher.

  Pride swelled in Holly’s chest. He’d done it. He’d bunted and beat it out, moving the man to scoring position on second. Was there anything Dan Alexander couldn’t do?

  Cal Crawley called time out and conferred with Dan. She wondered what was going on. Rushing back to the concession stand, she cornered Bud and asked.

  “Crawley’s trying to figure out if Dan can pitch another couple of innings, or if they should put in a pinch runner for him now. That would give a reliever more time to warm up. Though they usually get started about the fifth inning or so.”

  “A pinch runner?”

  “Most pitchers throw so hard and fast, they’re kinda done by the seventh inning. They’re replaced by a reliever for the last two innings. If Crawley’s gonna take Dan out next inning anyway, he might as well put some Speedy Gonzalez on first to run the bases, instead of taking a chance Dan might get hurt. Besides, Dan’s no Jesse Owens, if you know what I mean.”

  “I thought he ran damn fast,” Holly said.

  Bud waved his hand at her. “No one’s putting him down, but he’s a pitcher, not a base stealer. If Cal puts Bart Carozzi on base, we might get a double steal…and score.”

  “Why isn’t he playing?”

  “Carozzi can’t hit worth shit. But he’s awesome at stealing bases.”

  Holly nodded, thanked Bud, and returned to her territory, just in time to see Dan replaced by Carozzi. The pitcher walked off the field to a round of applause. Carozzi leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees, chewed gum, and kept his eye on Figeroa.

  Nat Owen surprised everyone by hitting a ball that bounced into the stands for a ground rule double, bringing Chet home and sen
ding Bart to third. Next was a sacrifice fly by Skip, deep to the outfield. Carozzi tagged up and came home. Now, the game was two to one, Nighthawks favor.

  Bobby hit a line drive right to the second baseman for the third out. Chip Sanderson went in to get the next six batters out, which he did, to guarantee the Hawks, and Dan Alexander, a win.

  Holly was beaming when she turned in her cart. Bud gave her a high five.

  “Dan was amazing,” she said, combing her fingers through her hair.

  “That he is. Just hope he can keep it up on the road.”

  Holly’s smile faded. She handed Bud her cart and left. Her lips compressed into a thin line as she wondered about Dan’s road trip. Would he find other women while out of town? She recalled his pronouncement about how he could get with any woman he met in a bar. Would he sleep with someone on this trip, and would she be better than Holly? Her heart sagged. What woman wouldn’t be better? No one else would be toting the kind of baggage she had. Was her weekend with Dan a one-time thing?

  Holly debated whether or not to call Dan while he was traveling. She finally decided not to. She’d just have to wait and pray that he still preferred her when he returned. Tension mounted and lodged in her shoulders. It was going to be a long two weeks.

  Chapter Nine

  With the team on the road and Lisa staying at a friend’s house, Nancy had a chance to talk to Holly. After dinner, the older woman gathered up a blanket she was crocheting for Lisa for Christmas. She pulled out her hook, picked up the yarn, and cleared her throat.

  “I don’t know exactly what brought you to our house. You’ve been a real blessing with Lisa. Bud and I think of you as another daughter.”

  “Thank you.” Holly got up to put the kettle on for tea.

  Nancy continued, “No one can run forever. Even The Fugitive eventually got caught.”

  “I know,” Holly said, plopping down on the couch. “I’ve been thinking. I did what I did because I was mad at my parents. Sort of like Lisa. Maybe that’s why we get along so well. Not that you’re anything like my parents, believe me. Lisa has much less reason to rebel than I did.”

  “It must hurt to be removed from your family.”

  “Some days, it does. Maybe some of what happened with my parents was my fault. When I was a teen, I didn’t make things easy for them.”

  “What teen does?” Nancy smiled and kept stitching.

  “I didn’t stop there. When I didn’t get the reaction I wanted, I kept going. Dating Flash Kincaid was just stupid rebellion.”

  Nancy’s eyes widened. “You dated Flash Kincaid?”

  The young woman nodded. “I was only twenty-four. What did I know? He was handsome, had money, took me to clubs, to Puerto Rico for the weekend.”

  “You had stars in your eyes.” Nancy nodded.

  “Exactly. And I knew my parents wouldn’t approve. I knew they’d hate him. They had hated every guy I ever went out with.”

  “Hate is a pretty strong word.”

  “Okay, disapproved of.” The kettle whistled, and Holly pushed up to go to the kitchen.

  “But you dated him anyway?”

  “I figured they didn’t care, so I might as well have fun.” Holly poured hot water into a china teapot.

  Nancy nodded and kept working. Holly put cups and saucers on a tray with the tea and carried it into the living room then returned for the milk and sugar in matching china containers.

  “So, what happened?”

  “I didn’t know where he got his money. Honestly, I didn’t.”

  “Didn’t you wonder? I mean, did he go to an office every day?”

  “No. He never went to an office. He’d disappear at night for a couple of hours. I thought his father was rich and gave it to him. I was foolish. Stupid. Naïve.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “I didn’t know he was selling drugs and running a prostitution ring.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “One of his girls approached me in the ladies’ room at one of his favorite clubs. She told me the truth about Flash. That explained the strange things that had happened when we were together.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I called my parents. I was scared stiff. There were men speaking foreign languages. They were pretty scary.”

  Nancy stopped crocheting. “And?”

  “They were at a charity function. They couldn’t talk.”

  “Really?” She arched her eyebrows.

  “Yeah. So, I decided to sneak out of the club by pretending I was going to the bathroom. I went out the back door and through the alley. One of Flash’s men was there. I saw him shoot a guy.”

  Nancy put down the needlework. “Oh my gosh! What did you do?”

  “I ran. I found out later that the guy died.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “To the police. They put me in witness protection. But someone leaked, because Flash’s men found me. And that’s why I’m here.”

  “What a story!”

  “Sounds a lot better than it is.”

  “Your parents must be worried sick.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen or talked to them since I made that phone call. It’s been a while now.” Holly poured the steeped tea into the cups.

  “They must be worried sick.”

  “Maybe. I see pictures of them in the paper sometimes. They go to a lot of charity stuff.”

  “Are the police looking for you?”

  “The police, the FBI, and Flash.”

  Nancy patted Holly’s hand and took a cup. “That’s a lot of stress.”

  “I was thinking of calling my parents. Maybe apologize. I know this is a huge embarrassment for them.”

  “Don’t you think they’re worried you might be dead?”

  “Maybe. If I called them, I could tell them how sorry I am. Maybe I could go home.” Holly put milk and sugar in her tea.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Nancy added milk then took a sip.

  “I’d turn myself in if I had some place to live. I’m not going back to witness protection.”

  “Give your parents another chance. You’re a different person now. I bet they are too.”

  “I’d sure love to have what you have right here, Nancy.”

  They were interrupted by Holly’s cell. It was Dan.

  “Did you see the game?” he asked.

  She took her phone to her room for privacy, kicked off her shoes, and lay down on the bed. They spent the next fifteen minutes discussing the game, the quality of the mattress in his hotel room, how Matt had struck out again at the hotel bar, and how much Dan missed her. When she hung up, she grinned. Talking to him swelled her heart. She figured this call meant he wasn’t going to be out looking for another woman. Was it love? Could be. She hated to be a day without talking to him and couldn’t stop wishing for another steamy night in his enormous bed.

  Hawking hot dogs didn’t seem so bad when she could watch him play. Now, he doffed his cap to her every game he pitched. The mystery continued as to who he was targeting with his sweet gesture. Holly never admitted the truth to anyone. She wanted to keep Dan as far away from her questionable past as she could.

  With a heart full of love, and hoping for the best, she dialed her parents’ apartment.

  “Hello?”

  “Mom? Hi.”

  Silence.

  “It’s Holly.”

  “Holly? Oh my God! Is it really you?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

  “We weren’t sure if you were dead or alive. Ransom, get on the line.”

  Her father picked up the extension. “Holly, where are you?”

  “I can’t tell you, Dad. I’m okay, though.”

  “I’m your father.”

  “I still can’t.”

  Silence.

  “I want to apologize. I know I was hard to handle when I was a teen.”

  “Teen? Even after!” her father said.

  “You w
ere born hard to handle,” Marva added.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Holly took a deep breath. This might be harder than she had expected.

  “What do you want?” Ransom had always been to the point.

  “I was hoping I could come home. Testify then move back in with you guys, be a family again?”

  Silence.

  Holly bit her lip then recited a prayer in her head.

  Still no answer.

  Finally, her father cleared his throat. “You know we’ve gotten a lot of grief about what you’ve done.”

  “You mean witnessing a crime?”

  “Don’t play games with me, daughter. You know exactly what I mean.”

  “Some of our friends don’t talk to us anymore. Since you took up with that lowlife,” her mother said.

  “We’re just now recovering from the scandal.”

  “I’m sorry,” Holly whispered, choking back tears.

  “We understand that kids rebel. This hit your mother harder than me. Business is business, so I still have my friends. But your mother was asked to leave a bridge group and dropped from the East Side Cotillion committee.”

  “Really? I’m so sorry, Mom.”

  “Like their kids are so great. At least you’re not a heroin addict.” Marva sniffed.

  “She’s managed to find some new friends. Hasn’t been easy.”

  “So, you’re saying?” This is a bad dream. I’ll wake up any minute.

  “It’s not that we don’t want you back, dear,” Marva whined.

  “No, no, of course not. But this isn’t the best time,” Ransom chimed in.

  Silence again.

  Holly discarded the last bit of her pride left. “When would be a good time?”

  “Well, you see,” her mother began, and then stopped.

  There was the sound of breathing on the phone.

  “I don’t know. Maybe next year?” her father said.

  “I can’t stay here for that long.”

  “What about the witness protection program?” Ransom asked.

  “Somebody there leaked. Flash found me. I had to leave.”

  “We’d read that you escaped, but nothing else,” Marva said.