Chapter 65

Monday, June 25

Arlene delivered me home a little before 2:30, giving me adequate time to get over to the Bennetts. She thought it was hilarious that Coach had invited himself along.

“Like I’m going to object to a 300-pound man putting conditions on me going out with his 16-year-old daughter,” I said as the redhead followed me inside. “He’s already told me to stay off KissCam.

“You do know he was a two-time all-American and spent three years in the NFL before he messed his knees up, don’t you? I keep thinking one of these days he’s going to put an arm around my neck and just squeeze until my head pops.”

“We’ll just have to make sure the other head pops before you go so you won’t have any problems this evening,” she said, pushing me back onto the family room sofa.

Before I could protest — not that I would have — my redheaded goddess was fishing me out of my slacks. I did my bit to help by unfastening the pants and sliding them off my hips.

Arlene would still be out of commission for a couple of days, but she had ways to work around such issues. I just laid my head back on the back of the sofa and let her inhale me, her tongue again doing amazing things.

Even with last night’s shower with Kacie, I was still ready to blow in just a few minutes. Arlene showed her skill in her ability to postpone the inevitable and prolong my voyage to the edges of sanity.

I let out a low growl as I erupted in the goddess’ mouth. She daintily removed all trace of our dalliance without even wrinkling her clothes.

“Enjoy the game, Sugar,” she said as she stood up, gave me a kiss and let herself out.

I just sat there enjoying the glow for several minutes.

I finally roused myself, taking my duffle to my room and changing into cargo shorts and a San Diego Zoo T-shirt to wear to the game. I texted Erin that I was on my way and arrived in a quiet neighborhood not too far from the high school just after 3 p.m.

Coach Bennett was ready to go, decked out in one of the coaching staff polos. Erin was forcing him to wait, taking a few extra minutes to make sure everything was just right. I took the opportunity to visit with Mrs. Bennett, who also taught at our school. I’d managed to avoid her sophomore English class, but I was sure she could have other teachers make my life hell if she deemed it necessary. Right now, she was just happy her daughter was going out with a boy.

Erin put the extra time to good use, emerging in a cute little white top with spaghetti straps, blue denim shorts that hugged her ass and shod in white sneakers. She had her dark hair, which she usually pulled back in a ponytail, hanging loose to the middle of her back.

“You look nice,” I said, admiring the long legs honed by years of activity sticking out of her shorts.

Erin was 5-foot-7 and slender, the shooting guard on our girls basketball team. Her club team typically played six games every weekend at tournaments, meaning she put in a lot of miles running up and down the court. I was going to have to try to make it to more girls games this season. If she took after her mother, she still had some filling out to do.

“Thank you,” she said, blushing in front of me for the second time that day.

“Let’s go!” Coach ordered. “BP starts at 4:40 and it’ll take us an hour to get there.”

We piled into his pickup with Erin in the middle and buckled up. Within 10 minutes, I was heading back down the freeway toward the city.

The ballpark was located a good 20 miles from downtown out in the western suburbs. Even taking the loop, it was nearly an hour’s drive under normal conditions. By arriving in time for batting practice, we missed the worst of rush-hour traffic. We were parked and at the box office by 4:30.

I always enjoyed visiting the ballpark. There was just something about how the field opened up before you as you entered the seating area through one of the section portals. The explosion of green made me want to go run around the outfield myself. The team allowed kids to run the bases following Sunday afternoon games and I tried to make as many as I could until my job at the pool interfered this year.

Coach Bennett got his ticket in the section behind the home dugout on the first-base side. Erin decided we should go ahead and sit with him just so we’d be able to find him when it was time to go home. It wasn’t like we were going to be making out during the middle of the ballgame, anyway.

Apparently, Coach knew some people with the team because we were allowed in before the gates opened. He was down at the rail slapping hands with ballplayers before Erin and I made it halfway down the section steps.

He introduced Erin to a couple of guys while I hung back. The sideline reporter for the local TV crew came along and chatted for a bit.

“I still need a segment for the fifth inning,” he told Coach. “Wanna help me out?”

“Aww, you don’t wanna talk to a broke-down ex-football player,” Coach said. “You ought to talk to Superhero, here. He spent last week out in Malibu hanging out with bikini models. I’m still waiting to hear his report on that.”

The mention of bikini models caught the attention of the TV guy and two or three players within earshot. I found myself telling the story of being on a photo shoot and that I was still digging sand out of embarrassing places.

“It’s not like I was doing much,” I said. “I just stood where they told me to stand.”

Erin had to take the opportunity to show off.

“He’s always so modest,” she said, whipping her phone out and pulling up Fran Goldstein’s photo. “Here’s one of his shots.”

Oh, God. Here we go again. At least it wasn’t one of the Cabana Boy pics. I just tried to melt into the background.

The reporter humored my date. The players looking over his shoulder felt the need to compare the image to the real me.

“Don’t let my wife see that,” the TV guy said as he handed Erin’s phone back.

Coach Bennett and the reporter continued catching up while I watched the home team’s slugger put five consecutive pitches into the left-field bleachers, where a handful of early arrivals scrambled for the souvenirs. The home team concluded its BP session as the Padres began wandering out onto the field to loosen up.

The crowd, such as it was, slowly started filtering in as the ballpark staff began getting things ready for another game. It always amazed me just how many moving parts had to fall into place to pull off such a production, and they did this 81 times over the course of a season. I would not like to be the person in charge of gameday operations. The headaches must never end.

Erin and I hit one of the concession stands for dinner. The selections ranged from basic ballpark fare to outrageous mutations. Who needs a hot dog that’s two feet long and weighs three pounds? I doubt the entire Gang of Eight could have finished one.

Erin went with some kind of honey-ranch grilled chicken and bacon sandwich. I settled for a simple hot dog and a soft pretzel. I was already planning for nachos or peanuts later in the evening, and I fully expected Erin to ask for some cotton candy by the fourth inning. There were also the roving vendors that would offer temptation. I was willing to go for one of the frozen lemon ice treats. That seemed to be one of the least unhealthy items offered, but I didn’t come here for healthy eating.

We got back to our seats to find Coach Bennett with a foot-long chilidog covered with onions, one of the mini baseball helmets loaded with waffle fries covered in nacho cheese sauce and a beer in his cupholder.

“I’ll make you walk home if you even think of telling your mother,” he told Erin. “This is the one time all summer I’ll get to do this.”

“I won’t have to tell her anything,” Erin said, fanning the surrounding air. “All you have to do is try to kiss her with that onion breath.”

The pregame festivities were under way by the time Coach finished his dog, but he was done in time to stand for the anthem, crying “Play Ball!” as the last strains faded away.

For someone who came to watch a pitcher, Coach Bennett got his money’s worth through four scoreless innings. His buddy Cole scattered four hits, including a pair of singles in the fourth that were quickly erased in a double play. San Diego also had a runner thrown out trying to go first-to-third in the early part of the game to kill a rally.