Chapter 84

The brisk pace of the game meant it concluded just after eight p.m. local time – an especially quick game considering the amount of commercial time the network built into the telecast.

But by the time the team contended with the media and traffic to the airport, it was close to 11 o'clock before they boarded their flight for Cleveland. There was little talking and no joking on the flight across, not because the players were despondent over their loss but because they were mostly asleep.

Brock had taken some ribbing when he boarded the plane for carrying a lined tweed overcoat. Even Meredith had given him a ration of crap for pulling out his coat with a removable liner and telling her to make sure it came with his belongings.

No one was laughing at him when the plane touched down at seven a.m. local time and the pilot announced the temperature was 41 degrees in Cleveland.

For some, such as Danys and Zack, they had never been north of Arizona from late September to early April. Danys was from the Dominican Republic and played Winter Ball there each year. Zack was from Texas and had never seen a snowflake until an early season game in Colorado.

Others, like Al (who was from New York City) and Josh (who was from North Dakota), knew what to expect. Still, they all felt a chill when they departed the plane – except for Brock, who was wearing his overcoat and leather gloves.

He was warm and stylish, he joked.

The second plane arrived four hours later and Brock was napping when Meredith came into the room at the Marriott.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered after she tipped the bellhop for helping with the luggage she carried for her and for Brock. "I thought you were joking."

The forecast called for a high temperature of 51 and overnight lows in the upper 30s.

"I got you a present," Brock informed her, gesturing to a garment bag hanging on the door. Meredith unzipped it to find a leather bomber jacket inside.

"Where did you find this?" she asked.

"Macy's," Brock replied with a shrug. "There's one down the block. I figured you'd want something warm while you're here."

Meredith looked up at him with such love in her eyes that he blushed.

"You like it?" he asked.

"I love you," she replied. "God, after the crap I gave you about bringing a coat, you should have let me freeze."

"I didn't want The Ladies to catch a chill," Brock said, referring to Meredith's nickname for her boobs.

"I tell you what, when we walked out to get the rental car, The Ladies almost drilled a hole in my bra," Meredith said. "You said cold weather gives you shrinkage. Well cold weather gave me pokies. I turned on the heater in the car on the way over. I don't know if my SUV even has a heater. I've never used it."

"I picked up a couple of sweaters for you while I was there," Brock said. "They're going to be delivered this afternoon. If you don't like them, just send them back."

"You fly through the night, get off the plane and the first thing you worry about is if I'll be warm," Meredith said, shaking her head.

"To be honest, the first thing I worried about was rubbing it in to Zack and Danys that I was warm and they were not," Brock admitted. "But the second thing I worried about was you. Let everyone know I set up a charge account over there so they can get anything they might need. Well, don't let everyone know that. I was thinking more along the lines of the ones who probably don't own warm clothing. They said game-time temperatures tomorrow might be in the 30s."

"I'll need some pants," Meredith said with a frown. She owned some lightweight pants but mostly her closet was filled with dresses, skirts and shorts. She preferred to wear those and she knew Brock liked to see her in them. It was a win-win as far as she was concerned. "I'll call Jen and have her coordinate with the others. Can they use the account in Los Angeles, too?"

"With the password," Brock replied.

"Let me write it down," Meredith said, pulling a pen and paper from a desk drawer.

Brock read off a six-digit number that meant nothing to Meredith. She doubted anyone would be able to guess it and access the account Brock had established.

"There is a $2,500 limit per customer," Brock said. "So let Mel know I'm not financing a new wardrobe for her."

"That should let everyone get some warm clothes," Meredith announced. "How much was my jacket?"

"That doesn't matter," Brock replied. He figured she would kill him for spending $500 on a coat she would wear for three days. Still, Brock knew it wouldn't be the last fall or winter trip he took with Meredith so it would be worth it. Hell, he decided, the look on her face was worth it.

Meredith lifted her eyebrows at him.

"You know I'll see your credit card statement when it comes in," she said.

"Fine," Brock replied. "The coat was $500. But it was one of the only ones I thought would look nice on you. The others were, I don't know, they weren't you."

Meredith stood in the center of the room shaking her head. Brock was about to protest that it was his money and he could spend it as he liked when she cut the thought from his head.

"That's it," she declared. "Take off your pants. I am going to show my appreciation in the only way I physically can right now."

When Brock didn't move, Meredith marched forward and pushed him backward on the bed. She was unbuckling his pants when her cell phone rang. Brock was a little disappointed when she answered.

"Sorry, I can't talk right now," she informed whoever was on the other end of the line. "Brock bought a beautiful coat for me and I'm about to go down on him to say thank you. I'll call you back in a half hour."

Brock heard laughter when Meredith pulled the phone away from her ear, turned it off and tossed it across the room. Then she went back to her business.

"Who was that?" Brock asked. Meredith had fished his penis out of his boxers and was licking it like a Popsicle. She paused briefly.

"Mandy," she replied with a shrug before her head disappeared onto Brock's lap again. She ignored his questions until he finally sat back silently and enjoyed Meredith's efforts. When she'd finished, she smiled and went to brush her teeth.

Brock was still sitting on the bed with his pants and underwear at his knees when she returned. She pushed him the rest of the way back on the bed and straddled his waist before leaning forward and kissing him solidly.

"You are seriously the best boyfriend-slash-fiancé ever," she concluded. "But I have to call Mandy back. I think she wants to take some of the other wives shopping."

Josh greeted Brock with a smile and a high five when he arrived in the lobby for the short trek to the stadium for the second media day of the Series. Brock blushed and expected an onslaught of comments but his friend said nothing more.

The media day in Cleveland was lower key than the one before the opening game in Los Angeles. This was mostly newspapers and television and radio stations that dealt solely with the Indians. There were no questions about anything but baseball.

"That's what J.C. loves about this place," Brock commented as the players boarded the bus for the five-block trip to the hotel. Brock was certain he could walk it quicker but the league insisted every visiting player be driven to the stadium.

"We're all going out to dinner tonight," Al advised him as they settled in. "I noticed that you and Meredith weren't mentioned. Do you have other plans or was it just an oversight?"

"We're going to Erie to see Chastity," Brock told them.

"Oh, that's cool," Josh replied. "I heard she was taking a season off and coaching. How's that going for her?"

"I don't really know," Brock admitted. "I had no idea she was doing it. I thought she was in Europe with the rest of the national team. I guess everything happened when I was in Arizona and I missed it."

"You guys having dinner over there?" Al wondered.

"I think we're going to a girls' soccer tournament," Brock related. "Hell, Al, I don't know. I just do what I'm told."

"At least she broke you early," Wade chimed in.

"Oh, I think Brock is in good shape," Josh told them conspiratorially. "He's got his ways to regain control."

Josh ignored the questions from the rest of the players and the guys separated as they debarked at the hotel.

"Tell Chas we said hi," Al told him. "And let her know that Faith has already told us she's going to high school in Erie if Chastity is still coaching there."

Meredith was already in the room when Brock opened the door. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans, a white sweatshirt with the Duke logo on it and running shoes. She had laid out similar apparel for Brock to don – except his sweatshirt was gray and had no emblem.

She topped off her ensemble with her leather jacket, stopping to smell the material when she put it on.

"I had them waterproof it," Brock told her. "That will keep it from cracking if it gets wet."

"You're already getting a solid day of sex as soon as I'm back in commission," Meredith said. "What? Do you plan to shoot for a week?"

"If I can," Brock laughed as he pulled on his heavy coat and started for the door.

"Hey, one more thing," Meredith said, tossing him a baseball cap with the Buffalo Bison logo on it. The Indians had moved their Triple-A affiliate to Columbus so Brock didn't feel like a traitor.

"We're incognito," Meredith announced, pulling Brock down and kissing him solidly. Part of her had wondered if the trip was a good idea. She had pondered what might happen if Chastity elected to continue her sabbatical from playing and decided she wanted to coach near Los Angeles.

"Your butt looks really nice in those jeans," Brock whispered as they boarded the elevator.

"OK, you got your week," Meredith said with a smile.

"Can I work on 10 days?" Brock asked. He leaned over and ran his hand across Meredith's butt.

"You have to behave yourself," she warned as the doors opened and other people entered the car. When the car hit the ground floor, Brock waited until everyone was out before he pinched Meredith's butt, causing her to jump.

She was still laughing when they exited and ran into Cynthia Lu.

"Use caution while you're gone," she urged. "I did not find out about your side trip in time to scout the location."

"It's on the campus of a private school," Meredith informed her. "There are metal detectors at the stadium entrance and the school has its own security team that appears to be well-trained. I checked it out before I suggested it. Sorry, I should have let you know what we planned."

"You have done everything I would have," Cynthia said with a nod. "I know you are capable of protecting yourself and Brock, if necessary."

Meredith beamed at the praise but Brock frowned. Still, he couldn't argue with the statement. Brock insisted that he was driving across Interstate 90 to Erie. It was a relatively straight shot but the roads in Pennsylvania, if he remembered correctly, were terrible. He found out his memory was right as soon as the crossed the border. The sound in the BMW 328i that Meredith had rented changed.

"What's the noise?" Meredith wondered from the passenger seat. "I didn't notice it before."

"It's the road surface," Brock told her. "When I lived up in Ohio and New York, I always heard the Pennsylvania roads were the worst. I finally believe them."

Meredith frowned but was happy that she hadn't rented a lemon. She wanted something sporty to drive around in but she also wanted something functional. The lease on her SUV was up in December and she was shopping around for something different.

The GPS pointed them in the right direction and they saw the lights of the stadium in the distance. They paid $5 each to enter and made their way to the side where Chastity's school was sitting. There was another game going on but Meredith pointed down the way where she recognized Chastity leading a team in warm-ups.

"Good, we got here before it started," she said, glancing around at the other spectators. She was surprised at the number of students in attendance. She couldn't remember ever attending a girls' soccer game during her two years in high school.

Brock heard the triple whistle that he knew signaled the end of the game and saw the two teams meet in the middle of the pitch to shake hands. He had no idea who won or lost. When the field was empty of players, Chastity's team, wearing maroon uniforms, made their way to the middle of the field in a neat formation to loosen up some more.

Chastity made her way to the sideline, carrying a clipboard – and looking pleased. The opposing coach cut her off and shook her hand before heading back to his team. The referee and the linesmen did the same thing before she made her way to her team's bench.

"She's a rock star," Brock joked.

"She is probably the most recognizable soccer player in America," Meredith said seriously. "I would imagine there isn't a girl who plays the game who doesn't know who she is. Look at Faith. My Lord, that girl smiled for two days when Chastity kicked the ball around with her last summer. You know she put the ball away and never used it again? She made Al go out and get a glass case for it. The jersey that she got in Phoenix last year is hung on the wall of honor in Al's den – right beside his All-Star jersey and where his World Series jersey will hang. So, yeah, she's a rock star, all right."

Brock had been kidding with the comment but he could see how Meredith was right. Chastity Durant might be one of the five most famous female athletes in the United States. And she was coaching a high school girls' soccer team instead of making half a million a year to play in Germany or Italy.

Brock and Meredith watched as the game unfolded. Neither had a rooting interest, Brock had never heard of the school where Chastity coached and he certainly didn't know any of the children on her team. But he cheered along with everyone else on his side of the stadium when the girls in maroon made a good play.

He watched Chastity's reaction with one of her defenders came too far forward and set up a goal opportunity for the opposition. The goalie managed to turn away the point-blank shot but there was no help from the defense.

Chastity didn't throw her clipboard or scream at the girl who had made the mistake. She didn't substitute a new player at the next dead ball. Instead she waited for an opportunity to pull the girl aside. With a gentle arm around the player's shoulder, Chastity pointed out where the girl should have been and why she was out of position.

The player paid rapt attention – when you have the opportunity to learn from someone who had accomplished as much as Chastity Durant, you took it. And Brock realized that was what Chastity had been doing. She hadn't been coaching. She'd been teaching, not only about soccer but about responsibility.

When the lesson was over, Chastity ruffled her player's hair and sent her back out on the field.

Meredith had been watching Brock's reaction carefully and she wondered what the small smile that came across his face was about. There was no action on the field. A timeout had been called. He wondered what he was recalling from his days with Chastity that had elicited his reaction.

"Pretty cool," he said softly.

"What?" Meredith asked, not because she hadn't heard him but because she wondered what he was referring to.

"The way she handled that kid," Brock remarked. "Watch the other coach for a minute."

Meredith shifted her gaze down the row slightly (in soccer, both benches are on the same side of the field). The man was pacing like a caged lion, yelling instructions, stamping his feet when a mistake was made.

In contrast, Chastity was standing serenely on the sidelines. Periodically she would turn to her assistant coach and mention something. Other times she would turn to the players on her bench and point out something that had happened on the pitch. She didn't scream at the players on her team. If a correction needed to be made, she did it either by a substitution or during a stoppage in play.