~ Chapter Fifteen ~

"Since when do you always get the window seat?"  Brian demanded, flopping into the plane seat next to Nick and loosening his tie.

"Since I didn't spend half an hour standing at the other end of the plane talking to Shingo."  Nick pointed out, slipping his headphones down around his neck.  Brian caught up on his social engagements  - of which he had several - until thirty seconds before the plane took off, when he bolted to his seat.

"Fine, but I got dibs on the window on the next flight."  Brian folded his arms.  "So, how was the date?  Or is it dates?"  He regarded Nick for a moment.  "Aw, man, look at you.  Y'all are hooked.  Chalk up another loss for single guys everywhere."

"I am not hooked."  Nick protested mildly. 

"Are too.  Like a fish."  Brian argued.  "She's been to four games now.  If that isn't hooked, I don't know what is.  So, what's she like?"

"Wonderful."  Nick said without really thinking. 

Brian raised one eyebrow.  "Like a fish."  He repeated calmly.

Nick gave up on arguing.  He was in too good of a mood to even bother and Brian didn't give up until he won or was convinced he had won anyway.  Stacy had come to both games that weekend, and afterwards they had just done stupid little stuff, like hang out at the waterfront.  It had ended up being the most fun Nick had experienced in months.  Right now he was so happy he would have given Brian the window seat, except Brian really didn't care.  He just wanted to argue about it. 

"Are y'all just gonna sit there and look happy or are you gonna tell me about her?"  Brian demanded impatiently.  "What does she do?  Is she smart?  What kind of car does she drive?  How good a kisser is she?  C'mon, Nick, spill.  I'm waiting."

Nick couldn't help laughing.  Brian sounded just like a little old lady catching up on the latest gossip.  "Okay... I can't pronounce what she does, but it like, involves researching cancer or something like that."

Brian thought about that one.  "Hey, that is seriously cool.  So, she's what, five or six up on you in the brains department, huh?"

Nick scowled.  Just because he was a blond athlete didn't mean he was stupid.  "Gee, thanks."

"I'm kidding."  Brian waved his hand in the air.  "Where's she from?"

 "Um, she grew up in India.  Her dad's, like, a doctor or something over there.  And she's not a big baseball fan, which is actually kind of cool." 

"Why?"  Brian asked.

Nick rolled his eyes.  There it went.  The standard Brian question.  "Um, you know.  Like, it affects the way you kind of look at things."

"Such as, ‘you're Bob Carter's son?'"

"Uh-huh." 

"Wow."  Brian said in awe.  "I wish I was famous enough that I could experience that."

"Are you making fun of me?"  Nick narrowed his eyes.

"Who, me?"  Brian face assumed a carefully innocent expression.  "So, you really like her.  Why?"

Nick's smile got a little wider.  "Brian, I can't explain it.  Okay?"

Brian pointed his index finger at Nick's face.  "Y'all are cleverly evading the kissing question."  He giggled.  "Nick y'all are blushing."

"Am not!"  Nick protested again.  There was no way he was telling Brian if Stacy was a good kisser.  She was, but Brian wasn't going to know that.   

Brian attempted to look rational and logical, and failed miserably.  "You are too!"

"Just shut up, Bri!  Never mind!  I'm not gonna tell you every little detail like Howie does."

"Howie was a pimp in a former life."  Brian snickered again, thankfully latching onto the change of subject.

"Howie's a pimp in THIS life."  Nick corrected in amusement. 

"True."  Brian stuck his head out and peered down the aisle.  When it came down to the facts, Brian actually preferred the aisle seat - it was easier for him to keep tabs on everything else happening on the plane at that time.  "He's acting awful weird."

"Howie?"  Nick wondered.  He didn't think so.  Howie could still be heard over everything else on the plane, as usual.  Every few minutes, Howie would yell something in his usual high shrill fashion, whether he was winning or losing at the card game he and several other players always had going at the back of the plane.

"No.  AJ."  Brian corrected, pulling his head back around the seat.  "Very quiet.  He must be drugged."

"Or for once, he isn't."  Nick offered the more logical choice.

~*~

"One out, runners on first and second for the A's.  McLean's working from the stretch, as most relievers do whether there's a man on or not."  Niehaus narrated.  "Mariners are ahead 7-5 in the bottom of the ninth.  Here's the stretch from McLean and the pitch.  Low and outside, ball two.  3-0, and the runners will probably be going on the next pitch."  Niehaus stopped talking, the only noise on the radio that of the crowd, who was finally into the game now that it looked like their team had a chance at coming back. 

"Here's the pitch, and that is BELTED into DEEP left field.  That was a rocket!  The A's win the game 8-7 and McLean stalks off the field in disgust.  That's his first blown save this season, and only the third of his major league career.  That wraps it up from Oakland, the A's win it 8-7 in the bottom of the ninth, on a one out homer  by shortstop Miguel Lopez.  We'll be back with the finals after this time-out." 

~*~

Kevin crouched down behind the plate and waited for the next pitch.  It came in low and outside, almost bouncing in the dirt, more than just a little off from where it was supposed to be.

"Time."  Kevin called over his shoulder as he jogged out to the mound.  "Okay, buddy, wassup?"

"Obviously, not that last pitch."  AJ was in a smartmouth mood.  Then again, he always was.

"Uh-huh."  Kevin shoved his mask up on top of his head.  "Why?"

"Beats me."  AJ shrugged and kicked at the mound with his cleat. 

"Well, maybe you should try and figure it out."  Kevin never was very good at being diplomatic for long.  "Because after that game you blew in Oakland, and now this one, obviously something ain't right."

"Just back off."  AJ waved his glove at Kevin.  "I'll handle it."

"How?"  Kevin snapped.   AJ's lack of focus was starting to piss him off. "With a SuperSoaker?  This is important, AJ.  We're playing division rivals here."

"I know who we're playing."  AJ stepped in closer to Kevin's face.  "And this is not important, Kevin."

"That's your problem right there."  Kevin pointed out.

"Excuse me, fellas.  Let's wrap it up."  The home plate umpire came out halfway to the mound to break up the argument. 

"That is not my problem!"  AJ stabbed his finger at Kevin's chest protector.  "Just shut the hell up about problems!  You don't know anything about problems, okay?"

"Okay, let's hold on here a minute."  Kevin turned around to the umpire, who was waiting.  "Sorry, can we have just a sec?"  He turned back to AJ, who had stalked down the back side of the mound and was playing with the rosin bag, raising a cloud of chalky, white dust.  "AJ..."

"What's goin' on?"  Brian jogged in the short distance from second to the mound. 

"Just get back behind the damn plate and leave me alone!"  AJ hollered at Kevin.