Chapter 68

Meredith was puttering around the hotel room waiting for Brock's return when she heard the keycard in the door.

Brock saw a room-service cart first. But his attention soon shifted to the scantily clad young woman in the room.

Meredith was wearing a very sheer negligee that clearly showed that it was the only article of clothing on her body.

"Hungry?" she asked with a devilish gleam in her eye as she sat down with her knees parted. Brock could see all the way up the short white gown. He licked his lips unconsciously and his plan to pick on Meredith about her reaction to his aborted home run was completely forgotten.

"Famished," Brock related. As after most games, he had grabbed something off the buffet table in the clubhouse but he hadn't eaten a full meal.

Meredith closed her legs and pulled the lids off the dishes on the table.

"I figured we should sample some seafood delicacies while we're on the Gulf Coast," Meredith announced.

"I was hoping what I saw first was on the menu," Brock admitted.

"It's dessert," Meredith said with a giggle. "Are we staying here tomorrow night, too?"

"If you want to," Brock replied. "We're off Thursday. When is Randi coming to Miami?"

"I show you my bush and you think of Randi?" Meredith asked with a smirk. "I think I should be offended."

"You?" Brock said, reverting to his original plan now that he knew Meredith wasn't interested in getting frisky immediately. "I find out the one person I thought was always on my side was rooting against me yesterday and that the whole world saw it!"

The smile disappeared from Meredith's face.

"I didn't know it was on TV," Meredith said. "I wasn't really rooting against you. I mean, I know how rare a perfect game is. But I wanted you to do good."

"Yeah," Brock said, shaking his head. "Jumping up and down when the guy stole my first homer since I came back. That sucks."

"I did not jump up and down!" Meredith insisted.

"Oh, well you probably should have," Brock said, realizing that Meredith was close to tears. "Jesus, if you had jumped up and down, they probably would have given you your own show instead of 15 seconds on a regional sports telecast. That might even be one reality show I'd watch: Meredith jumping up and down for 30 minutes a week."

He winked at her.

"You bastard," Meredith said. "I was about to freak out. I thought I'd really done something to hurt you."

"Nah," Brock said. "It might have been different if the game was close. But we were down two touchdowns. I'm not mad. I was just goofing."

"And here I was wondering what I would have to do to make it up to you," Meredith said. "You should have held out a little longer."

"Now you tell me," Brock laughed. "I think you should still make it up to me. I guess you should probably go with your first thought."

"My first thought is to kick your butt for making me feel bad," Meredith said.

"Second thought then," Brock said hopefully.

"That was my first through eighth thoughts," Meredith said. "I didn't make it to nine so you're out of luck. I guess you'll just have to make it up to me now."

"What do you have in mind?" Brock asked. "I am ever so eager to be back in your good graces."

Meredith lowered her head and batted her eyelashes at him.

"I'll consider it while we dine," she said.

"Perhaps I should feed you?" Brock suggested. He reached for a piece of chilled shrimp, dipped it gently in cocktail sauce and lifted it to Meredith's mouth. She half expected him to smear the red sauce all over her face but instead he held the crustacean in front of her until she bit into it.

"That would be acceptable for a beginning," she said in a haughty voice. "I believe I shall sit upon your lap while you feed me."

Brock slid his chair backward to allow her room to sit. She kissed his cheek as she settled onto his lap.

"I think we should stay here until Friday morning," she said as Brock lifted another piece of seafood to her lips. "Can we drive over together or do you have to go with the team?"

"I'm good," Brock said. "But I'm not crazy about riding in a car for five or six hours and then having to play a baseball game."

"Yeah, that would suck," Meredith said. "Well, we'll stay here tomorrow night and leave early Thursday morning then. What I want to ensure is that I have at least one night when I have you entirely to myself."

"We'll can leave Thursday morning and get into Miami by about 4 p.m.," Brock suggested. "I'll treat you to dinner and maybe some salsa dancing at one of the clubs in Little Havana."

"I think we should get to the hotel, order room service and not reappear – or get dressed – until about 10 minutes before you have to leave for the game," Meredith countered.

"Or that," Brock replied with a smile.

"I thought you might go along with that," Meredith replied. "Oh, guess what?"

"Um, I don't know," Brock said. "What?"

"I was on TV today," Meredith announced. "Isn't that cool?"

"Uh, well, yeah," Brock replied, slightly confused. "How did this come about?"

"I was the 'Fan in the Stands'," she told him.

"Well, there was more than one fan but you could probably count them on two hands," Brock replied.

"It's a part of their TV broadcast," Meredith told him, rolling her eyes. "They interview someone in the stands. After my impressive performance during your almost-homer, they chose me."

"OK," Brock said warily. "What did you talk about?"

"Oh, I gave the all the juicy details about your contract fight and the battles you've had with the Dodgers organization all year," Meredith said seriously. "Then I talked about our sex life and let them inspect my bra."

"Meredith!" Brock said.

"I'm kidding," she replied. "Jesus, do you think I'm a moron? I set some ground rules before I agreed to do the segment. I told them no personal questions and no questions about the organization. I said I wasn't your agent and I wasn't authorized to discuss anything pertaining to you."

"You're my publicist," Brock pointed out.

"That wasn't mentioned," Meredith replied. "They wanted to talk to Meredith the fiancée not Meredith the publicist. By the way, I think I'm in serious need of some sexual harassment. I figured by sitting on your lap I could at least get a hand up my nightie."

Brock complied almost at once, running his fingers through the silky texture of Meredith's fine pubic hair.

"Much better," she said as his finger delved a little lower. "Anyway, we talked about the game today and yesterday. I explained that ... ooh, I like that ... I, uh, crap. I forgot what I told them. I think I mentioned how much I loved having you finger me at the dinner table. No, wait, that's what I just told myself."

"Do you want me to stop?" Brock asked.

"Not on your life," Meredith said. "I want you to move enough stuff off the table to put me down and get on top of me. I want to do it right here on the table."

Brock hastily slid the dishes to one side and laid Meredith on her back. He wasted no time in disrobing and neither did she. Meredith wrapped her legs around his butt and pulled him into her.

The conversation about Meredith's segment on television would apparently have to wait until the next morning.

Brock awoke to find Meredith's eyes gazing at him from only a few inches away. She wore the beatific smile that he usually didn't see until much later in the day. His first thought was that he had slept until noon.

"Good morning, my soon-to-be-husband," Meredith said. Brock realized he had woken up because Meredith was stroking his member beneath the sheet. "Could I interest you in a little fun this morning?"

"I believe I could be so moved," Brock agreed.

"Let's attend to our morning needs and I'll meet you back here in three minutes," Meredith said, hopping out of bed. Brock watched her buns as she headed to the bathroom. He gave her a few moments to attend to her bodily function before he joined her and they brushed their teeth side-by-side. Then Meredith departed while Brock drained his bladder.

She was back in bed when he came out.

"You're a horny minx this week," he joked.

"I've decided this is our pre-honeymoon," she replied, grabbing his hand and pulling him down to join her. "So I'm practicing for the real thing."

"Have you thought any more about where you want to go on our honeymoon?" he asked as his hands gently stroked Meredith's sides.

"I've come up with a plan," she said firmly. "We tell everyone we're off to Paris and Rome and all those other so-called romantic cities. Then we find a remote cabin completely cut off from the outside world and spend two whole weeks doing this as often as you can get it up. The only time we'll stop is when you're tired or I'm sore. How does that sound?"

"You realize that we'll be able to make love even after we're married," Brock told her with a smile. "I don't care what Esmi and Mandy have been telling you. There is no law against it."

Meredith returned his smile and pulled him to her for a kiss.

"Well, I wouldn't care if there was a law," Meredith answered when she broke the kiss. "I'd do it anyway. Maybe I'm just making up for lost time. I wanted to do this the first time I saw you. Well, maybe not the first time but definitely by the second or third time. When we were in my basement after our first date, my mind was screaming, 'Whoa, slow down there, Girl, ' but my body was telling me, 'Take him now. Make him yours. He's the man you'll spend your whole life with.'"

"It sounds like both voices were right," Brock replied. "We will spend our whole lives together and we probably should have slowed down."

"Absolutely to the first, maybe to the second," Meredith said. "I was ready, Brock. I was ready for that step. I mean, I gave my first blowjob to you on our first date. Well, I had a dick in my mouth for the first time. I got my little pussy licked for the first time that night, too. I was really, really ready to take the next step. I guess I've always been a horny little minx."

"That was the hardest part about being around you when you first came out to L.A. I knew there were barriers in the path that I needed to navigate. But I just wanted to run right through them. That night I spent at our house – the first night we talked again – I barely slept. I had to fight myself to keep from coming to your bedroom. Every time I would hear a noise, my heart would jump, thinking it might be you headed to where I was sleeping. I finally gave up and went to sit outside. I was already sitting out on your porch when Randi came over. I got my swimsuit out of the car and joined her in the pool."

"When I saw you standing in the doorway watching us, I thought I was going to have to finger myself with Randi standing two feet away from me. That's how much I wanted you. It took me almost three months to get up the nerve to tell you. Then it was three more weeks before I could get you to take me to bed. I figured out right then that you are really lousy at hints. So now I just tell you when I want to be naked with you – which is pretty much always, by the way. I guess I tell you when my desire to be naked with you can't be controlled any longer. Like now."

Meredith concluded her speech by swinging her leg over Brock's midsection. Her hand found her goal and she slid backward until his member was firmly inside her. Then she moaned slightly and smiled down at him.

"In case you didn't hear me when I whispered it to you while you slept," she said, "I love you. I am completely and totally in love with you."

Brock noticed that Meredith wasn't moving or attempting to stimulate herself. She just wanted the ultimate closeness that her position astride him provided.

"Well, that's a mighty big coincidence," Brock told her with another smile. "Because I feel the same way about you – word for word, in fact."

"It's not coincidence," Meredith said, shaking her head. Brock noticed the wonderful things her movement made her breasts do. "It's the way it was supposed to be. I know you're cynical about fate and destiny. So was I until you came back to Los Angeles. We were supposed to be together. Our cosmic thread or whatever is intertwined. It's why I never felt like a complete person before I met you or while we were apart. I wasn't whole. I was missing my other half."

"We're together now," Brock assured her. "Now and forever."

"Yes," Meredith replied as she snuggled down on his chest and increased her movement backward and forward. "Now and forever."

It was after noon when Brock and Meredith emerged from their hotel room. Neither seemed the least bit disappointed that any morning plans they might have had were disrupted.

They met with Zack, Al, Fred and Josh for a light lunch before the guys had to head to the ballpark.

"The Rays changed their scheduled starter," Josh said. "I saw on TV that Stewart is going to skip his start. They're starting some guy named Ernie Walsh."

"No shit!" Brock said excitedly. "I thought I saw him in the bullpen but I wasn't sure. Man, I own that bastard."

"Oh, yeah?" Fred asked.

"Oh, yeah," Brock said firmly. "He was drafted like three players after me. He and I have been facing each other since college. He went to Florida State. I bet I'm batting close to .600 against him – and we're talking 40 or 50 times at the plate, too. Man, I hope I'm playing today."

"There is no way you're batting .600 against anyone in 50 plate appearances," Al said. "I don't care what you say."

"I don't know for sure but I'm positive it's something like that," Brock said. "The guy, well, I guess I should make sure he still does it before I say anything."

"Does what?" Josh pressed.

"He tips his pitches," Brock said softly. "It's barely there but I picked up on it when I was a sophomore in college. If there is some way for us to check his minor league games, I'll bet you he has always gotten rocked against the Indians affiliates."

"He got rocked against the Indians the only time he faced them this year," Josh said. "The guy on TV said if you throw out the start against the Indians, his ERA is below 3.00. The Indians must have kicked the shit out of him because his ERA for the year is above 5.00."

"What's he do?" Fred asked.

Brock shook his head.

"I want to make sure he still does it," Brock replied. "That's why I didn't mention it to anyone in the Indians organization until I was in Triple-A. I thought I was just imagining it. But I wasn't. I just want to make sure I don't set you up for something. I'll fill you in after I watch him warm up."

"You better," Josh replied. "That's the kind of information I love to have."

"Do I tip my pitches?" Zack asked.

"You only have one pitch," Al replied with a laugh. "Everyone in the stadium knows what's coming. They just can't hit it. Hell, if you ever develop an off-speed pitch, you'll have hitters screwing themselves in the ground when they swing."

"I have a changeup," Zack insisted.

"Your fastball is 99 miles an hour," Brock said. "Your 'changeup, ' as you call it, is 96 miles an hour. To a hitter, that is not an appreciable difference."

"Screw you guys," Zack said. "It's not that fast."

"We're kidding," Josh said. "You could never survive with only one pitch. I caught you enough last year to know. The thing is, you have four different types of fastball and that's enough. They all look the same leaving your hand."

He took his hands away from his plate momentarily and ticked off the pitches as he spoke.

"You have a cut fastball that rides in on right-handers," he began. "You have a sinking fastball where the bottom drops out at the last minute. You have one that tails away from righties. Then you have 'Roy Orbison.'"

"Roy Orbison?" Meredith asked.

"The straight cheddar," Al said with a nod to Brock to continue.

"I got nothing," he said after a moment. "Wait, the Ryan Express."

"What do you mean?" Meredith asked, getting slightly irritated.

"Those are nicknames for a good, hard fastball that you dare the batter to hit," Josh explained. "Zack just rears back and turns it loose. It doesn't break. It doesn't dip. It doesn't do anything but hit the catcher's glove. Nolan Ryan was one of the best fastball pitchers of his day. His heater was called the Ryan Express."

"And Roy Orbison had a good fastball?" Meredith asked. The table laughed at the question, further pissing Meredith off.

"Roy Orbison had a song called 'Blue Bayou, '" Al clarified.

"So?" Meredith asked.

"Say it out loud slowly," Brock urged.

"Blue Bayou," Meredith repeated. "Blue Bayou. Oh, shit. That's stupid."

"That's what I said when they told it to me," Zack agreed. "I didn't even know who Roy Orbison was. I think he was dead before I was born."

"Whippersnappers," Brock said with a laugh.

"I wouldn't have known who he was either," Meredith told them. "I mean, I've heard of him but I haven't heard any of his songs."

"Well, maybe Randi can remake it," Josh suggested. "That way we can name it after her."

"I'll suggest it," Brock said with a nod. "Maybe she can do 'Blue Velvet' and 'Blue Suede Shoes' on the same album."

"And 'Blue Christmas'," Josh added hopefully. He broke into song and the rest of the table cringed.

"Yeah, maybe not," Brock said. "Anyway, I'm going to get some extra BP in today. Are you heading to the hotel, Merie?"

"Yeah, I'll see you after the game," Meredith replied. Brock was already in the taxi headed toward Tropicana Field when Meredith remembered that she hadn't told him about her stint in the booth that evening.

Brock got his first look at Ernie Walsh in two years when the second inning rolled around. Brock was taking Cesar Davis' spot in right field, a position he'd never played before in the Majors or Minors. Brock couldn't recall having played it even in Little League. Still, that's where LaCross had stationed him for that evening's game.

With a day off on Thursday, LaCross gave Wade a chance to rest his ailing back, too. He inserted Rafael Mendoza at first and plugged him into the lineup batting seventh. Eddie Cruz took over at second for Fred Hartman, mostly because Fred was starting to wear down. He had played in 122 of the team's 137 games. That left Matt Driesbach to hit ahead of Brock, who was still hitting sixth.

Al was the cleanup hitter and led off the second with a sharp single to left field. Driesbach followed with a walk. From the on-deck circle, Brock could see everything he needed to see. Walsh still had the same mannerisms he'd had since he was 19 years old.

Brock took two pitches just to make sure he was able to judge what pitches were coming. He predicted a fast ball for the first pitch and a changeup for the second. Since he was correct both times, he looked carefully as Walsh got his signs from the catcher. Brock almost broke into a smile when he saw a fastball was coming next.

Sure enough, the ball had no break and was situated on the inside portion of the plate. Brock turned on the offering and deposited the ball over the right field fence for a three-run homer. The outfielder that robbed him on Monday gave chase again but this time the ball was several rows back.

Brock didn't get the chance to tell Mendoza what to look for – and he knew Eddie Cruz and Will Courson were such terrible hitters it wouldn't matter if the ball was on a tee for them. So he went to the bench and sat down.