“That wouldn’t be any fun, though.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “This is fun to you?”
“Yeah. It’s fun to throw ’em on the ground.”
“This is a million times worse than a movie theater. God, people are disgusting.”
“Don’t mind Colt.” Pamela said to Lindsay. “He’s the King of the Neanderthals and has no hope.”
Colt stood and stretched his back. “I’m gonna go buy another Pepsi and a slice of pizza, I think. Either of you want anything?”
Pamela held up her own beverage. “Yes. More alcohol, please. I’m letting my hair down tonight.”
“Get me some too.”
“No.” Colt’s eyes narrowed as he gazed Lindsay’s way. “Not in public; you’re not of legal drinking age.”
Her brows tightened together.
“Get her a hot dog… a foot longer. I’m sure she’d love that.” Pamela brimmed with sudden laughter. “No, no, get her a corn dog instead!”
Lindsay first shot Pamela a lethal glare, then did the same for Colt. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
This whole “triad” thing seemed like a silly thought, a fleeting fantasy, and a recipe for disaster for an eleven-year marriage which had experienced its fair share of turbulence in recent times. At first, Colt had his reservations, but in the past several weeks he had witnessed a transformation in Pamela. She awoke feeling happier each day and often spoke about her desire to have Lindsay in their bed every night going forward and waking up beside her every morning. Pamela claimed Lindsay had stolen her heart – turned her life upside down – and could do the same for Colt. “Hey, I know it’s unconventional, and not what you’ve envisioned all these years of wanting to be a father, but perhaps you could be Lindsay’s new Daddy Dom. You know how much she craves that sort of guidance, that structure, that discipline.”
Colt had to admit with each baby step they’d taken as a trio thus far, everything felt so natural, so right. The toughest challenge was coming to grips with the fact that Pamela’s feelings for Lindsay weren’t a threat to him or their marriage, but rather, a blessing. Once released from those chains of insecurity, Colt concluded that because Pamela was so in love with Lindsay, it strengthened and supported his own marriage with her.
What did it matter that this concept was so wild, so out of left field? How could Colt have two wives? His own wife have a wife of her own? Unconventional? You bet. But all he knew was that Pamela loved Lindsay. And Lindsay loved Pamela. And since these two ladies were welcoming him with open arms, well, this crazy idea just seemed right, and made a lot of sense.
I own and operate a brothel. Unconventional is my middle name. At the concession stand, Colt glanced heavenward for answers. What do you think, Dad? If nothing else, perhaps accepting Lindsay into his and Pamela’s lives would repair the fractures their marriage had endured over the past year. Pamela has been on edge a lot lately, no doubt, but having Lindsay with us full-time would calm her, help her mellow out.
Happy wife, happy life.
Besides, Colt knew he had no choice. Pamela is not going to accept “no” for an answer this time.
As the bottom of the seventh inning got underway with the Orioles trailing 20-1, Colt, Pamela, and Lindsay had been getting teased by foul balls all evening as they landed in their vicinity. Colt had never snagged one during the one hundred or so games he’d gone to either here or at other various ballparks. Catching a foul ball, at least to him, was akin to discovering the holy grail.
A myth.
But then Rio Ruiz of the Orioles came to the plate and took a massive swing on the second pitch from Houston’s Joe Smith.
At first, the ball didn’t appear like it would reach the stands. It was catapulted high into the dark, nighttime sky as if it had been shot out of a cannon. It drifted closer, and Colt’s eyes turned mammoth as almost everyone around them rose to their feet with anticipation.
Colt reached high with his right arm into the sea of hands. A momentary scrum ensued, and soon something smacked his open palm with great velocity. His fingers clenched and, before he knew it, Colt had a little piece of baseball history – Orioles history – in his grasp.
He became a ten-year-old again for a few seconds as he stared at the worn piece of rawhide. Did I catch the damn thing barehanded? Fuck, his hand hurt. And his heart was thumping.
But all was well.
He recalled bringing his glove to games when he was a kid even when he and William sat in the nosebleeds. One night at Dodger Stadium when they had decent seats, Colt came close. But some drunken brute jumped in front of him at a 1990 game and stole the ball that was coming straight for his glove. Colt was furious for three days.
It took forty-five years in total, and twenty-nine since that regretful night, but Colt had hit the jackpot! An older gentleman from behind patted him on the back and offered congratulations. “Nice catch, son! They oughta sign you up – the O’s need all the help they can get!”
Without thinking about it, or paying any attention to the excited buzz in their section, Colt extended the ball toward Lindsay. He wanted it to belong to her.
Lindsay gasped and brought her opposite hand to her mouth, shocked he’d do such a thing. A few innings prior, Colt shared the story from 1990 and how angry it made him. Lindsay then commented that she’d snag a foul ball of her own for sure before the night was through.
Lindsay stared at the ball for several seconds as Colt insisted she take it. Pamela had no qualms, uninterested in something so frivolous. Soon, Lindsay accepted, and Colt received a gracious hug for the kind gesture. The whole stadium came alive with applause. Huh?
An instant later, Lindsay saw a young boy, perhaps age ten himself, with his eyes transfixed on the ball. He had his Orioles gear on, too, and a mitt on his left hand, not to mention that look of so close, yet so far away etched across his forlorn face. Colt knew the feeling.
Lindsay locked eyes with the boy.
She then turned and raised a lone brow at Colt.
He smiled and tipped a subtle nod.
Lindsay gave the ball to the young fan.
The crowd erupted with cheers.
As the young fan and his father thanked Lindsay profusely, Colt glanced up and noticed something extraordinary. Oh boy. That was why there was such a decibel roar! All four of them were on the big screen video board beyond center field. Had these past few seconds of their lives been shown to the masses?
The brilliant, glittering image zoomed in on Lindsay, who was so overcome with emotion from making the boy’s day that she had to wipe tears from her cheeks. There was no way that she could have continued to hold them in. However, Lindsay had zero idea that she was on the big board. Yet the crowd saw what she had done and gave her a rousing ovation.
That, and because she was a pint-sized hottie not afraid to flaunt her considerable assets in skimpy attire.
Lindsay was confused at all the adulation until Colt pointed toward center field. She glanced out and screamed, embarrassed to be the focal point of the stadium (and thousands of televisions across Maryland and Texas). Would this simple act of human kindness go viral? Lindsay’s ongoing reaction? She buried her face upon Colt’s shoulder, seeking refuge in her own patented way. The crowd laughed uproariously.
Colt comforted Lindsay in his arms and his lips touched hers, a whisper of a kiss as Pamela looked on from the side, her cocoa-brown eyes glazed over, full of adoration, and a soft, unmistakable glow rippling all around her.
Ducking in and out of hills, valleys, and ravines, their hike merged with the forest road, so Lindsay and Colt headed up a steep incline, and the gorgeous view of Patapsco State Park took her breath away.
Colt retrieved a waterproof blanket from his backpack and laid it on the grassy knoll next to Cascade Falls.
“Wow, I’m impressed. You’ve come prepared.”
“I’ve done my fair share of hiking, too, you know.”
She nodded. “I have no doubt.” On Sunday afternoon, they parked near the swinging bridge and, as promised, made the trek up to the waterfall. The only thing that’s missing is Pamela. Along the way, Lindsay marveled at enormous oak trees and blueberry bushes. And I thought the scenery out west could never be topped.
“You wait here. Don’t move a muscle,” Colt said an hour earlier in the parking lot, rendering Lindsay motionless – and a little confused – as he hopped out of his Jeep Wrangler and rushed over to the passenger side.
Lindsay tilted her head as he opened the door. “Thank you, kind sir.” She stepped out and admired the landscape. “And thank you for everything this past week. I’ll thank Pamela again, too, once we get back to Fairfax. Including me in your trip to California and paying for my airfare and inviting me into your home here in Maryland was so sweet. You didn’t have to do that. And here I was thinking I’d have to stay at that hotel up in Ambridge you like so much during my week-long break. Again, thank you.”
“Not a problem, my dear. It was our pleasure.”
“So, you must be a Jeep guy. You have a red Wrangler here in Maryland for your home life, I see, and a gray one back in Nevada. Jeeps are cool. I can tell this one is newer. It has all the fancy digital stuff the other one doesn’t.”
“Yes, this one is seven years newer; it’s a 2018. Believe it or not, I’ve owned six Wranglers throughout my lifetime. My first was an eighty-seven when I was your age. It’s a vehicle, for whatever reason, that calls to me.”
“Hmmph. They should make you their spokesperson.”
“They couldn’t afford my rates.”
His throat resonated with two notes of a chuckle and Lindsay felt it right in the center of her chest. It was nice to hear Colt laugh, especially considering how they got off on the wrong foot a year ago. I thought he hated me during my first tour. Lindsay had never been browbeaten like that before and, though everything turned out all right, hoped it would never happen again.
She lifted a shoulder. “I’d say my rates are higher.”
“Ehh, that’s a safe assumption. I love you in the cutoffs, by the way.”
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