Part XIII: Bull Durham (1988)
I didn't go to Orioles' games as often as I wanted, but Steve and I had tickets for the home game against the Dodgers, so we headed toward Camden Yards early on Saturday afternoon. For once we weren't all the way up in the top of the stand; we were sitting halfway up behind home plate, in a great position to see every hit or foul ball -- and in a good spot to notice the people around us.
The stadium wasn't that crowded; every row had a section of empty seats, including half a dozen right in front of us. Steve went to get an Italian sausage sandwich for himself and a fish sandwich for me, and I held our seats and looked around -- and saw, coming up the long concrete stairs nearby, Blair Sandburg and a tall, willowy blonde. She wore jeans and a Dodgers shirt that did nothing to distract from her pale skin or slender build, and when I saw her crystal blue eyes I knew who it had to be.
"Blair! Over here!"
"Hey, Kit – I didn't know you were a Dodgers fan."
"Sorry, I'm cheering for the Orioles today. It's just not the same since Dem Bums left Brooklyn."
He grinned and shook his head. "That's the first bad thing I've heard about you, supporting the wrong team. Nikki Winters, this is my friend Kit; she's an email buddy from a while back."
"Pleased to meet you," Nikita said, shaking hands shyly. "Are you alone?"
"No, I'm holding a seat for my husband, but the ones in front of us are empty."
"Hey, these are better seats than ours." Blair checked out the clear view of the foul lines and the Factory beyond. "How about if we sit here, and if someone comes along we swap tickets?"
"Sounds good to me," Nikita said.
Blair sat down right in front of me on the aisle, Nikita next to him, but he was on his feet again almost immediately. "Food! We need food – I'm starved. What would you like, Nikki? I'll go get something before the lines are too long."
I could've told him the lines were at their longest just before the opening pitch, but he wouldn't have listened. Nikita probably realized the same thing; she said, "Actually, I could wait a while, Blair, but if you really want to go now, how about a chili dog and a beer?"
"No problem. I'll be right back." Blair started down the stairs at breakneck speed, on fire with his mission. Nikita watched him leave, a smile on her lips.
"Cute, isn't he?" I commented.
"Yeah," she said, watching him duck into the entrance and move out of sight. "He reminds me a bit of Birkoff, or maybe what Walter was like when he was a kid."
"Birkoff never talked as much in his life as Blair does in an hour," I said, and she giggled. "How much longer will you be in Rainier?
"A few weeks. Then – well, you know." She watched the patterns on the big board as she collected her thoughts. "I like Blair, we get together for coffee a lot. But it's hard avoiding his housemate."
"I can imagine."
Her voice dropped from its light casual tones into the throatier sound I'd heard on television. "It's the first time Section has let me out like this, and I don't want any trouble. But if you've got any suggestions for getting Jim Ellison away from me, I'd love to hear them."
Unpleasant suspicions crowded my mind. "Is he harassing you?"
She shook her head. "He's just always seems to be around, picking up Blair for work, or stopping by between cases. It's a little awkward. You know, I can handle anything that happens the Section way, but if I do that here I'm gone." She paused, then added wistfully, "I like being above ground for a while."
I watched the groundskeepers dragging rakes around the diamond to make sure it was perfect before the game started. "There's a fairly simple solution, but you might not like it."
"What?" Her eyes were wary behind the dark sunglasses. "I'm not going out with Ellison. I wouldn't do that to Blair, he's a friend."
"Nothing like that." I suppressed a smile. "Borrow one of Blair's books from him at the University, and return it to him at the police station."
"Hmm ... I think I like that." She noticed movement in the crowd at the foot of the stairs. "Is that your Steve coming up?"
"Uh-huh." I moved over one seat so he could hand me my food and sit down without having to climb over anyone. "Steve, some of my friends showed up, so they're sitting with us."
"Oh? Great." He hadn't really looked at Nikita before, but he noticed her now. "Hi, I'm Steve Smith," he said, putting out a hand.
"Nikki Winters," she said, shaking his hand. "Mind if I steal a fry?"
"Help yourself," he said. He looked as stunned as if I'd hit him with a fly ball from Babe Ruth's bat. He'd never actually met most of my fanfic friends, though he realized they did exist.
"Thanks." She took one of his curly fries, dunked it in ketchup, and ate it like a cat. "Oh, that's good. I hope Blair brings me some. So, what do you do, Steve?"
"I'm a computer consultant. Networks, connectivity, various languages"
She nodded astutely. "Any government work?"
"Occasionally."
"If I hear of anything opening up, do you want me to let you know? Not where I work," she added rapidly, "but outside in general?"
"Sure," he said, surprised. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." Nikita smiled at him, and he melted. "Relax, I'm not recruiting you. It's just that I hear things, sometimes." She noticed Blair soldiering up the stairs with an armload of food. "He doesn't know what I do; don't tell him."
"Okay," we said as Blair arrived, panting slightly.
"One chili dog with beer for you, one hot veggiedog with onions and peppers and a beer for me, and fries to share." He handed her an overloaded food carrier and managed not to spill anything. "Hey, you must be Steve, I'm Blair Sandburg. Good to meet you, man."
"Good to meet you too," Steve said. "I hear you like to read SF – think you might be interested in coming to the Washington Science Fiction Association meeting sometime?"
"It's not like a real meeting," I put in, "it's more like a party, every other Friday, at someone's house."
"Cool. Can you email me the dates? Maybe I can fit it in before exams; I'll need a break then," Blair said. "How about you, Nikki? When do you have to leave?"
"About two days after finals, from what I've heard so far. But if I can, I'll come with Blair."
Blair beamed. "Oh, this is so great." He settled himself in the seat just as the umpire, down on the field, shouted, "Play ball!"
Was it my imagination, or did a tall, broad-shouldered man four sections over and three rows down pull a black-and-orange Orioles ballcap over his very short hair and hunch down in his seat as the game began?
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