Chapter 90

Brock paid little or no attention to the economic concerns of the team. It didn't occur to him that the Dodgers wouldn't pony up to pay Fred Hartman. It only made sense.

Brock made the usual round of interviews reserved for the World Series MVP. He did morning live news shows on network TV and taped interviews with comics that hosted shows that came on after the late local news.

It was a hectic two weeks and he was happy when it was over. Meredith was with him on almost every show. The only place she shied away from was a late-night taping in New York. Instead, Brock flew over the night before and flew back right afterward.

When Brock finished with the seemingly endless parade of stupid questions, he turned his focus to more important matters. His primary concern was trying to keep Meredith and Randi from trying to top out the speedometer on the Ford Limited Edition Roush Mustang he was awarded after being named World Series MVP. Meredith had claimed the car as her own from the moment it was delivered to the house, completely ignoring Brock's protests that he feared for her safety at 35 mph, let alone at 95.

"What's yours is mine," she claimed with a smile. "Besides, I'll have you know that I have never had an accident – not even a little fender-bender. Find me someone else in Los Angeles who can say that."

Brock didn't point out that he believed most people were smart enough to get out of her way. Meredith's comment brought about a serious discussion Brock had been putting off since right after the engagement was announced – a prenuptial agreement to protect his assets if the marriage should end in flames.

He had tried to find an evening when the house was clear but that proved impossible. Instead, he wound up pointedly telling Randi she needed to be somewhere else for the night.

"Oh, please," Randi remarked with a giggle. "I've seen you two fucking a thousand times. The only reason I need to go somewhere else is if you plan to use my bed tonight – and if you do, I plan to be in it."

Brock lowered his head and shook it.

"I need to have a private, personal conversation with Meredith," he said. This brought a second uninformed thought to Randi's brain.

"You didn't," she said angrily.

"Didn't what?" Brock wondered, concerned by the change in Randi's tone.

"Bang some bimbo," Randi hissed. "You did. You found some slut and now she's threatening to tell everyone."

"Is that what you think of me?" Brock asked in a voice that so filled with anger that Randi took a step backward. She gulped involuntarily.

"No," she finally admitted. "No, that's not what I think of you. But I've seen how easy it can be. I mean, I already knew. I was on tour with one of those boy bands that pop up every year or so. They would have their pick of girls and I know you do, too."

"Maybe I do," Brock said, unhappiness still evident in his mannerisms. "That doesn't mean I would ever do that shit. I can't believe you would even think I would. Christ, Randi."

Randi closed her eyes for a moment.

"So what do you want to talk to her about?" she asked.

"It goes back to personal and private," Brock replied. "If I wanted you to be a party to the discussion, I'd bring it up at dinner one night. Now can you disappear for a while or not?"

"Yeah," Randi said, stung slightly at being excluded from a part of her closest friends' lives. "I'll find somewhere to be. Sorry, Brock."

"I'm sure we'll fill you in later," Brock said in a mollifying tone. "It's just, well, I'm not sure there isn't going to be some screaming and throwing of objects. It's nothing bad – at least I don't think it is. But it might be awkward. OK?"

"Yeah, I understand," Randi replied. "How long will you need? Do I need to spend the night somewhere?"

"Of course not," Brock told her, smiling at the young woman. "This is your home as much as it is mine. I just need a couple of hours of privacy and I can't seem to get that outside of the house."

The actual discussion with Meredith started out better than Brock had hoped. As soon as Randi announced she was going out for the evening, Meredith started to plan how quickly she could undress. She was surprised when Brock resisted her attempts to pull him upstairs to the bedroom.

Instead, he directed her to the couch.

"I sent Randi out so we could talk," Brock said.

"OK," Meredith replied. "Let's talk. How was your day?"

"Well, considering I was with you all day, it was wonderful," Brock replied. "I mean so we could discuss something specific."

"The prenuptial," Meredith said with a nod. "I was wondering when we'd get to this."

"Uh, yeah," Brock admitted. "I guess I wonder how mad you're going to be if I ask for one."

"Not mad at all," Meredith told him. "I've spoken to Melanie about this in general terms. She can't represent me because of the conflict of interest and because she no longer handles private cases. I'll only insist on two clauses. You can write the rest how you want."

"Sure," Brock said. Stan had sent him the standard contract and Brock pulled it out from a drawer in the coffee table where he had strategically placed it. He handed it across to Meredith but she didn't open the envelope.

"I wouldn't have any idea of what rights and responsibilities it gave me," she said. "I'm not an attorney. The firm that handles my Dad's business is going to represent my interests. Have whoever is representing you send it to them."

"This is just an example," Brock said. "Stan sent it to me. It explains in real English what each clause means for both of us. I told him the same thing you just said. I always had Melanie look at all this stuff. She told me the same thing. Well, first of all, she called me an asshole for thinking I needed one then she told me that she couldn't represent me because she refused to take sides. I guess I understand that. Stan's firm in New York is handling things from my end."

"Fine," Meredith said. "Let's look at it. Would you like to know the clauses I insist upon?"

"I guess so," Brock told her. "Look, I hate that we even have to do this. But everyone I've talked to says I need one – and you need one, too. You have a large financial holding that you'll want to protect, as well. I don't want this to be a confrontation between us. I don't want it to lead to contention. If you want clauses in there, they'll be in there. I mean, you know, unless it gives you the right to diddle the pool boy or something."

"Our pool is cleaned by a woman," Meredith said with a half-smile. She took a deep breath. "OK, here it is. I will not – not now or ever – agree to a document that includes a 'bad boy' clause unless it also absolves me of responsibility in the case of an indiscretion on my part. If you get a 'bad boy' clause, I get a 'bad girl' clause."

"That's fair," Brock said with a nod. "I asked Stan to make sure it was written that way but I'm not sure it is in the example he sent. I don't think it will ever matter but I think you should have all the rights that I do."

"Oh," Meredith said in surprise. She figured this would lead to a prolonged discussion about how much time Brock would be on the road and she would be forced to reveal that sports wives tend to occupy their free time the same way sports husbands did. "Well, OK then."

"You seem surprised that I would want to look out for you, too," Brock said with a raised eyebrow. Meredith shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"It's not about you," Meredith told him. "Look, I've talked about this with more than just Melanie. I've talked with Esmi and Allison. I've talked about it with Juanita Sanchez. None of them have an agreement in place. Mandy is the only one who has a prenuptial."

"I know," Brock admitted. "But there is a reason for that."

"They sure don't know the reason," Meredith told him. "They just said it never came up."

"They all married when neither of them had shit," Brock pointed out. "Esmi and Al got married when they were 19 and Al was in his first year in the Majors. Juanita and Danys got married before he ever signed a pro contract. Allison and Wade have dated since they were 15 years old, for Christ's sake."

"So have we," Meredith told him.

"No we haven't," Brock replied. "We dated when we were kids. Then we stopped and dated other people."

"You dated other people," Meredith interrupted.

"And so did you," Brock said. "You told me you went on dates with guys in college."

"I guess I should have said that you had sex with other people," she amended.

"And you could have if you wanted to," Brock answered with a shrug. "I was surprised as hell when I found out you hadn't. But it's not about the past. It's about the future. I know Josh didn't have a contract with his first wife. He screwed up. He knows it. I know it and so do you, probably. Should it have cost him 66 percent of everything he'd made as a pro?"

Brock shrugged.

"But I'll tell you what he told me," he continued. "He said he would gladly pay that amount if that's what it took to be with Mandy. I'll tell you the same thing. If this makes you uncomfortable, we'll go without it. I don't think we'll ever need it and I have considered it because everyone told me I need to consider it."

"No, I agree it has to be there," Meredith said. "I just, I just don't like thinking that all this will eventually end."

"I don't think it will ever end," Brock said as he put his hand on hers. "But you have money in your own right. Do you want to have to give me part of it if something unexpected happens?"

"I wouldn't care," Meredith insisted. "That was never my money. It was Dad's money."

"And what about in the future?" Brock wondered. "Look at it what happened in the past two weeks. I got calls from all the usual suspects to appear on their shows. But you got more calls than I did. Hell, Meredith, you were No. 2 on the top Yahoo! search list last month."

Meredith blushed slightly. The exposure – figuratively, not literally – she'd received during the playoffs had made her a household name among baseball fans. The television network cut to her reaction each time Brock stepped to the plate. When he made the catch in the 12th inning of Game 7, the network showed Meredith going from person to person in the family section exchanging high fives with everyone the players invited.

The news crews that covered the victory celebration at Dodger Stadium ran a shot of her standing beside Brock with tears on her cheeks as he gave his speech. The result was that dozens of magazines, blogs and TV shows had called for interviews with Meredith, the woman behind the man. She had vaulted to the No. 3 spot on the 'HIM' wives and girlfriends list – behind only two models, a popular actress and a porn star, her new friend Leslie Galvin (Cassie Charms), who had been spotted dating a member of the city's pro soccer franchise in recent months.

"Anything I earn is because of you," she said. "So I'm not worried about that either."

"That's a disingenuous argument," Brock countered. "I'm with you because of you. It all comes back to who you are."

Meredith frowned.

"Let's move on to my second clause," she stated. "I want a vesting clause. That means it voids after a certain amount of time."

Brock had considered something similar. He had reasoned that their finances were already conjoined. He had very few investments that Meredith hadn't joined. About the only thing he owned apart from Meredith was the minor league baseball team – and he would be willing to sell her part of it if she asked. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever mentioned it.

"Did you know I own part of two minor league teams?" he asked out of the blue.

"What?" Meredith asked. Brock repeated his question. "What does that have to do with this?"

"Nothing really," he admitted. "It was, well, I considered a vesting clause because outside of those two things, I'm not sure I own anything separately from you – or your Dad. I'm part of the group that owns the teams in Columbia, South Carolina, and El Paso, Texas. It's in a trust because of the potential conflicts. But I own 18 percent of the group. I thought I should tell you."

"Uh, OK," Meredith said, shaking her head. "I guess that's part of this. We have to let the other know of our net worth and disclose our holdings. I have Dad's attorneys working on that."

"So what were you thinking of the terms for full vestment?" he asked.

"Twelve years seems to be the standard," Meredith replied.

"That long?" Brock wondered. "I was thinking more along the lines of five years – maybe as long as seven. Honestly, those are my prime earning years. After that, hell, you'll be supporting me."

He decided he should add another sentence to his sentiment so it wasn't misconstrued.

"Financially, I mean," he amended. "You always support me emotionally."

"And sexually," Meredith added with a wink. "Don't forget sexually."

"No, of course not," Brock replied. "Wouldn't want to leave that out. So, I'm good with those clauses. I'm also OK with leaving out anything you're not comfortable with. If you think of anything else, I'm sure I'll agree to it, too."

"I get to castrate you if you screw around?" Meredith asked with another wink.

"I think I'd be OK with it but I'm not sure the cops would be," Brock told her. "Look, we'll state everything as 'either party.' We'll both be protected."

"Have your attorney contact mine," Meredith replied deadpan. Then she smiled. "I always wanted to say that. Now, can we set this aside and get naked?"

The wedding was another matter. What had once been planned as an intimate gathering of a few friends and family members was rapidly becoming the social event of the season in Los Angeles.

The guest list had grown longer. Almost all the Dodgers players planned to attend, even the ones Brock wasn't particularly close to. Brock figured that Meredith's increased visibility among the player's wives and girlfriends was the primary reason. The single guys were probably planning to attend for the sole reason that they figured there were be a lot of good-looking women hanging around.

Brock smiled to himself. They were right. There would be a lot of good-looking women at the wedding and at the reception.

Meredith's rising popularity and friendship with Randi Raver had people Brock considered relative strangers angling for an invitation to the event. Tiffany Wells and Crosby Gordon both had hinted to Randi that they would love to attend – as did a few others who Brock new only peripherally.

The team's executives also wanted to be there, including the team's owner and president. Jim LaCross had always been on the invitation list but the other coaches, with the exception of the hitting coach, hadn't been. Now Brock felt obligated to include them, since many of them left for home after the season with the parting that they would see Brock at his wedding.

The guest list had grown to more than 150, something the Beverly Wilshire wasn't able to accommodate. The hotel couldn't do anything for a group larger than 100 – unless Meredith wanted to move the reception somewhere else. She didn't want to do that, nor did she want to move the venue for the ceremony.

Two days after the discussion of the prenuptial agreement, Brock returned home from an afternoon interview to find Meredith in tears.

"What are we going to do?" she asked helplessly.

"About what, Honey?" Brock asked her with concern. "What's bothering you?"

"The wedding!" she wailed.

Brock didn't follow the line of thought.

"You don't want to cancel it, do you?" he asked.

"Of course not," she said.

"What's the problem then?" Brock tried.

"We have too many guests," Meredith told him.

"So we cut a few," Brock replied with a shrug.

"We can't," she insisted.

"Sure we can," Brock said. He didn't understand the issue. "It's our wedding after all."

"Who should we drop?" Meredith asked angrily.

"I don't know," Brock replied evenly. "Who is invited?"

"Who is invited?" Meredith asked with irritation. "I think everyone in the God-damned world is expecting to get an invitation. All of your teammates want to come. The coaches and the owner and the clubhouse attendant and probably the fucking bat boy."

"Uh," Brock said, glancing around nervously. "I, uh, well, I didn't think it was a problem. I mean, I asked you before I told them."

"You didn't tell me you planned to invite everyone," she insisted. "That's close to 75 people you dropped on my lap. Now we can't have the wedding and the reception at the same place because they can't seat more than 100."

"Hey," Brock cut in. "I think you're math is off. I invited 24 guys. That's a hell of a lot less than 75."

"Not when you count their dates and Millicent Swanson and her husband and Victor Turturro and his wife and the rest of the them!" Meredith insisted.

"OK," Brock told her. "So what? That's still less than 100. I mean, shit, we're still well less than 100 even if 75 people do show up. If we're not, I'll talk to a couple of them and let them know we need to trim the list. Hell, a lot of them I don't care if they show up or not. I can get it under a hundred if you want."

"And piss everyone off?" she asked.

"No one will be pissed off," Brock said dismissively.

"It won't help," Meredith said. "I mean, unless you don't want any of your teammates to come. We'll still be over a hundred."

"How do you figure?" Brock wondered.

"Well, we have another problem," Meredith admitted. "I told Randi she could invite some members from her cast because they wanted to come. Hailey and Karen want to come plus Tara said a lot of other baseball people are looking to attend. I invited some others from the group who always sit with us and some of the people from Subarctic are invited. Right now, we're at almost 150 people."

Brock nodded.

"So this really isn't all my fault?" he asked.

"I didn't expect you to invite everyone," Meredith stated.

"But even if I invited no one, you'd still be over," Brock tried.

"Fine!" Meredith shouted. "This got too big. I was worried we wouldn't have anyone and now we have everyone. It's all my fault!"

Brock smiled.

"It's no one's fault," Brock said softly. "We're both a lot more popular now than when we started to plan. We have to change to meet the circumstances. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know what to do!" Meredith said forcefully. "I don't fucking know what to do."

"Well, let's figure it out," Brock said calmly.

The wedding, after all the alterations and modifications, came off without a hitch.

Although Meredith had never planned for a church wedding, she consented to be married at a non-denominational cathedral. Brock stood with his groomsmen and groomswomen. Zoe, his sister, and Susan, his best friend, were his Best Women – a description that brought chuckles from each. Al, Josh and Zack joined them in front of the church.

Meredith had asked Randi to be her Maiden of Honor. Melanie, Jen and Tara were her attendants. The bride and groom finally decided that an odd number of attendants didn't matter. Randi said she would be honored to accompany both Susan and Zoe down the aisle after the ceremony.

Meredith had selected dark green knee-length cocktail dresses for her attendants, so they could be worn again later and not simply thrown away (or burned). Zoe and Susan wore a dress of the same style but in black that matched the tuxedos worn by the men.

Brock wasn't as nervous as he thought he would be. He certainly wasn't as nervous as Sam Van Landingham had been. The church was full but not packed. Brock saw the faces of some close friends and the faces of some people he considered only acquaintances.

Some he didn't recognize at all.

The invitations had insisted that no cell phones, video recorders or cameras be permitted in the church. That would help maintain the focus on the ceremony. It was also because, after a deluge of requests, Meredith had sold the rights to their official wedding portrait to 'In L.A.' magazine for a $100,000 donation to CASA of Greater Los Angeles.