~ Chapter  Ten ~

Karen rummaged through her bag.  All she wanted was a hairbrush.  And all she could see was junk belonging to her daughter.  Becky's sweater - she wasn't wearing it now, but she'd want it as soon as the wind started blowing in off the water.  The bleachers at Safeco Field could get quite chilly.  Becky's rather strange looking doll was in the bag too.  Gertrude went everywhere with Becky.  Today Gertrude was wearing a long white dress.  Karen wasn't sure if that meant she was getting married or if she was just an angel. 

There was her hairbrush - stuck to the back of Gertrude's head, the bristles stuck in Gertrude's ragged blond yarn hair.  Karen untangled it and ran the brush through her wavy, dirty blond hair quickly.  One of the other players wives gave her a condescending glance.  Karen wrinkled her nose and pulled her hair back into it's usual messy bun. 

Usually three types of people sat in the players wives section. 

There were the people like Karen,  who showed up at the game in jeans and a t-shirt, usually with enough stuff in their arms to keep small children entertained for three hours. 

There were the dates who would show up for one or two games.  Karen had met several girls who came to the game with Howie Dorough.  Howie had a new girlfriend every homestand.  Sometimes he had two, if they were in town for a long time.  There were other players who always had a date at the game.  Alicea, the shortstop was another one.  Karen didn't usually talk very much to them, but  she suspected some of the other gorgeous women that appeared in the stands came with Nick Carter or AJ McLean.  Neither the pitcher or the outfielder looked like the type who would sit home and let dust collect, so to speak.

Then there were the women like the one who had just been annoyed by Karen.  Karen knew who the woman was.  Her first name was Leah, and she was married to one of the starting pitchers.  Probably the one starting the game tonight, or Leah wouldn't have come to the game.  Leah was part of the group that came to the game in their expensive pantsuits, their hair was always perfect, they would applaud politely when their husband came up to the plate, but otherwise talked quietly among themselves.  There were a few who ignored the game entirely, talking on cell phones instead.  They were the ones that Karen hated the most.

"Mommy!"  Becky bolted down the aisle, skidding to a halt in front of her seat. "The lineups are almost ready!"  Becky's favorite part of the game was when she got to clap.  She clapped for every player when they were announced in the lineup, she clapped at every Mariner pitcher strikeout, at every Mariner putout, even for the routine outfield catches. 

"Be careful."  Karen shook her head.  Becky, in her mad dash to her  seat, had managed to bang the lady sitting in front of them in the head with her arm, and then knock Karen's coffee over onto the floor.  The woman in front of Becky was one of the third group.  She was in her impeccable little red cashmere twinset and black pants, her curly dark hair perfectly in place.

"Sorry down there!" Becky hung over the back of the seat and apologized.

"It's okay."  The lady reassured Becky.  "No harm done."

"Sit down, Becky."  Karen glared.  She had never met the woman in front of them, but Becky talking her to death wasn't the way to start off.  "The lineups are starting."

Becky cheered and jumped up into her seat. 

"Batting eighth, the catcher, Kevin Richardson!"  The PA guy announced.

Becky clapped especially hard.

Karen smiled to herself.  She might not be the most put together person in the stands, but she was still married to the best looking guy on the team.

~*~

"And that's a base hit into left!"  Niehaus yelled.  "Alicea was running on the pitch, he'll make third easily.  Runners on first and third, two outs." His voice returned to normal again.  "Carter comes to the plate.  He's been in a slump so far this season.  He's 2 for 32 so far this season, and one of those hits was a bloop single that probably could have been caught.  The pitch from Robinson, on the outside corner for a strike, 0 and 1. 

"Pitcher's set, runners take their leads, fake throw to third and a glance at first.  Alicea was hanging out there just a little too far for Robinson's liking.  Now the set, and the pitch, Carter swings and misses.  0 and 2.  He hasn't had a hit in the last four games, and you know it has to be messing with his mind about now.  He's trying too hard for a hit.

"The set, and the 0-2 pitch, swiiiiiiiiing and a miss!  Carter flings his helmet and bat towards the dugout, a little harder than usual.  We go to the top of the eighth, no runs, one hit, no errors.  It's the Twins 5, the Mariners 3."

~*~

Nick flung the clubhouse door open, feeling a small glimmer of satisfaction as the door banged into the wall.  Hitting coach Jesse Hatfield had stayed after the game and worked with Nick in the hitting cage for almost two hours, to no avail.  It was one thing to hit a ball flung from a pitching machine, it was entirely another to hit it in a game. 

"Hey, Nick!"  Brian said cheerfully from his perch on the cinder block half-wall outside the clubhouse.

"Why are you still here?"  Nick wondered, heading for the parking garage.  As far as he was concerned, he couldn't get out of the stadium fast enough.  So far it had been a disgusting day, and it was only five o clock.  The day was hardly over.  The good thing about weekend games was that they were held in the early afternoon.  In some cities, that meant you were playing in the sun.  In Seattle, it meant you played underneath the roof while another inch of rain fell.  Rain was depressing.  And that was fitting in with Nick's mood perfectly.

"Waiting for you."  Brian caught up to him.  "Whatcha doing this afternoon?"  He added, neatly dodging around a cement pole in the garage.

"Nothin'."

"You're still bummed out, aren't you?"  Brian raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Gee, ya think?"  Nick snapped.

"Oh please, the sarcasm!"  Brian held up one hand.  "Spare me."

"Yeah, well, you had a double today, so don't go bugging me about being bummed out." Nick retorted as he and Brian reached the private area of the Safeco Field parking garage.  "I can't even remember the last time I was on base."

"Against the Yankees."  Brian announced promptly.  "Whatisname threw at you and hit you in the shoulder."

Brian was right.  That had been almost a week ago.  And getting on base because one of your former teammates threw at you intentionally wasn't exactly what Nick was going for.  He was 2 for 32 now.  That translated to a batting average of .062.  That was well below the Mendoza line.  Maybe they could start calling the .100 benchmark the Carter line.

Nick hit the button to unlock his red Mustang convertible.

Brian whistled in admiration.

"What?"  Nick turned, half expecting to see a blond in a short dress somewhere.

"Is that your car?"  Brian said in awe.

"Yeah."  Nick had to admit, it was a pretty nice car.  He had owned a Mercedes in New York, but had opted to just buy another one when he got to Seattle, rather than have his car sent across the country.  He didn't like it THAT much.  It was just a car.

"I take back everything I ever said."  Brian circled around the car.  "I want your life, okay?"

"Take it."

Brian had opened the door and was inspecting the interior of the car.  He pulled himself back out and turned around, a big grin on his face.  "Okay.  You know what... tonight, we're going to totally forget about hitting and Kevins and Chelseas and..."  He thought for a moment.  "I don't know.  Watch Jim Carrey or something."

"What?"

"Fine, we'll do something else."  Brian shrugged.  "But, y'all can't just sit at home and dwell on your batting average, okay?"  Brian glanced over at the car again.  "Can I drive?"

"Uh-uh."  Nick shook his head.  Knowing Brian, he'd start telling one of his stories and end up getting in a wreck.  That would be the perfect ending to Nick's day.

"Why not?"  Brian begged. 

Nick popped the trunk and dumped his equipment bag in, not bothering to answer Brian.  He wasn't in the mood to debate who got to drive the car.  Then again, it might be a good idea if Brian did drive, since Nick still hadn't managed to figure out where he was going in Seattle.  He could usually get from his house to the stadium and back again, but that was it.  Although one night he had ended up in a little city called Edmonds, which he was pretty sure was no were NEAR Kirkland, seeing as how there was a ferry dock.  Lake Washington didn't have ferries, just bridges.  Nick's house afforded an excellent view of one of them.  Most of the time, the bridge was nothing but solid cars, so it wasn't interesting to watch or anything, but he could see it from his house.

"Pleeeeeeeease."  Brian wheedled.

"No."  Nick said again, growing more annoyed by the minute.

Brian ducked between Nick and the drivers side door.  "Aw, c'mon."

"Cut it out."  Nick reached around Brian for the door.  Brian blocked it again.  Nick gave up.  He wasn't in the mood to put up with any of this.  "Fine!  Drive the damn car, Brian!  I don't care!"  He shoved the keys at Brian and marched around to the passenger  side, slamming the door after he got in.  He was so frustrated by now that his head was starting to spin. 

"Hey."  Brian stuck his head in the drivers side door.  "You don't have to flip out.  You can drive if you want."

"Just get in the car."  Nick said through his teeth. 

"You sure?"

"Brian!  Are you TRYING to piss me off?"  Nick gave him a dirty look. 

"No."  Brian said in all innocence.

"Well, you're doing a real good job."