Drama Dolls: A Novel: [Dark, Suspenseful, Fast-paced, Exhilarating] (11 page)

Jeffrey shifted into park and turned off the engine. Snapping at Lena, his temper short, he said, “I think we’re fine!” As Jeffrey opened the door to climb out, he noticed the female Drama Doll was motionless.

The voice of annoyed reason said, “I think she’s pee-issed!”

Leaning through the window, his upper body in the driver’s seat, Jeffrey said, “I’m sorry for snapping at you.” Lena slowly turned to address him. “I’m just upset that William didn’t come. Please come to the game with me.” Her lips the shape of a fingernail, twisting downward slowly, Lena reached for the door handle. “I promise I won’t be a poopy head anymore,” Jeffrey said.

Lena chuckled, her teeth starting to show as a smile formed on her face. She said, “William’s a poopy head. You’re a poopy face.” She looked at Jeffrey and stuck out her tongue.

Walking to the entrance, the sun at its hottest, Jeffrey’s face was tingling from the makeup splashed across him. He said, “This is so exciting. I can’t wait.” Sweat building around his nostrils, Jeffrey’s nose started to itch. Rotating his mouth in a clockwise motion to no avail, he finally scratched the tip of his nose with his finger.

Music blasted from the stadium. Spilling out into the parking lot, Jeffrey and Lena began to shimmy as they trotted toward the entrance. A selection of dance music and disco hits revved up the crowd. Over the speaker, the announcer said, “What a beautiful day for a baseball game.”

Jeffrey and Lena looked at each other. Together, they said, “Totally.” Their pace increasing to a jog, the pair ran the rest of the way.

His skin itching from the makeup, Jeffrey scrunched his face for relief. Sweat falling down his nose, the makeup beginning to smear, Jeffrey rubbed his nose on his sleeve.

The couple approached the ticket booth. Pulling out his wallet, Jeffrey grabbed a twenty dollar bill. Holding up two fingers, the employee behind the window looked up, smiled, and then looked back down. The smile growing, the boy slid a pair of tickets under the window slot.

“Sixteen dollars,” he said. Grabbing four singles from the register, the boy slid the change to Jeffrey. Avoiding eye contact, his mouth now open and in full smirk, he said, “Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy the game.” Then he laughed and walked away from the window.

The section that Jeffrey and Lena were sitting in was scarcely populated. An elderly couple behind them sat and watched, holding hands as the visiting team’s catcher popped the ball into the outfield. The ball grew bigger after it exploded off the bat. The older man, his socks pulled up to his knees, released his grip and clapped as the centerfielder made a diving catch. His wife, eating popcorn, stared as the home team ran into the dugout.

While the teams were switching between innings, a team of employees ran onto the field with handheld T-shirt guns. Able to launch shirts into the bleachers, a girl working the apparatus pointed the barrel toward Jeffrey and Lena’s section.

Lena stood up to her feet and waved her hand. “I want a shirt,” she said. Jumping up and down, her arm swinging left to right, Lena said, “Up here!”

The announcer over the speaker system said, “Who wants some T-shirts?” There were pockets of applause around the stands. Lena jumped higher up and down, stretching her arm into the air. The bleacher began to shake under Jeffrey’s feet. The announcer, he said, “Is everybody ready?”

Music started blasting. Lyrics from the speakers singing,
“Everybody dance now!”
The beat was filling the stands.
“Everybody dance now!”

The announcer’s voice, coming through the speakers muffled, said, “And launch!”

The girl working the shirt launcher fired the shirts toward the Dolls’ section. The first one stopped short, landing in an empty row. Jeffrey saw a preadolescent boy run from his seat to retrieve it.

Bass pumping through the system, shirts now launching repeatedly, the crowd was getting into it. Lena, bouncing higher and higher, watched as a shirt flew over her head. Clapping, she screamed down to the firing squad. “Up here!”

In the outfield, warming up their arms, the opposing team’s centerfielder played catch with the right fielder. As the shirts flew into the stadium seats, the rest of the visiting team’s players made their way onto the field.

Disappointed, slightly pouting, Lena sat back down next to Jeffrey. She was sweating profusely. Wiping her hand across her forehead, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

Jeffrey patted her thigh, indirectly telling her that she had given a valiant effort.

The music overhead, it played,
“Everybody dance now…”
and then cut short.

Lena’s eyes moved toward Jeffrey, her face still forward. A smile building inside, she clapped her hands when the batter approached the plate.

Resting his palm on Lena’s thigh, Jeffrey enjoyed the game from his seat.

The announcer, over the loud speaker, said, “Leading off the bottom of the third is the first baseman, Manny Valens.” The crowd cheered. Valens had been sent down from the majors to rehab his knee. Slowly he was healing and was close to returning back to the St. Louis Cardinals’ roster.

In front of Jeffrey and Lena was a group of adolescent boys wearing ball caps, keeping score on scorecards. One boy’s dad sat at the end of the row. Lined up with their scorecards on their laps, the boys watched the game intently.

The screaming of the fans drowned out the organ that was pumping out a rally. The announcer was selling ad space for the local radio station. Once the advertisement was finished, the announcer returned to the game. “Valens’ career batting average in the pros is three hundred. Today, he’ll see if he can use his Major League experience against a tough up and coming pitcher from Kansas.”

The pitcher threw the first pitch. Standing still, the batter let the ball pass the plate. The umpire behind home plate stood from his crouching position and called a strike. Some in attendance booed while others clapped for encouragement. The boys sitting in front of the Jeffrey and Lena marked their scorecards.

Reapplying the Russian Red, Jeffrey pursed his lips several times. Staring down over his nose, he examined his work. After he was satisfied, Jeffrey offered up the lip gloss to Lena.

She waved him off and signaled for the beer vendor. The vendor, a man wearing a tray of beer cans slung around his neck, he asked how many.

Holding up two fingers, Lena pulled out cash from her purse.

Winding up his rotation, the pitcher fired the ball down to the plate. This time, the batter swung through the pitch so hard he almost fell over. The announcer, over the speaker, said, “Strike two!” Blitzing on the big screen, an animated baseball, an angry expression in the center, became larger until it disappeared off the screen. “That pitch was clocked at ninety two miles per hour. Talk about fast ball.”

The hitter took a couple practice swings and then returned to the batter’s box. Digging his front foot into the dirt, shaking his hips in rhythm, Valens focused on the pitcher.

Makeup mirror now in front of him, patting his cheeks with warm blush, Jeffrey turned his head side to side to ensure the application was even. His face covering the mirror, he kissed into it and then winked at himself.

“Eighteen dollars,” the beer man said, cupping the plastic cups in his palm. Reaching out for the twenty, Lena told him to keep the tip. “Thanks! Enjoy, ladies!”

Following the beer from the vendor to Lena, a boy wearing his ball cap backward turned to face the clandestine Dolls. He started laughing, turning around quickly to avoid being seen. Nudging his friend with his elbow, the choreographed reaction resulted in each child slowly craning his neck to catch a glimpse.

The group laughed in unison.

The pitcher, leaning into the plate, stepped off the mound. Echoing throughout the stadium, the crowd booed.

The batter once again stepped out of the box and took some practice swings. The organ was playing “Charge” through the speakers. Returning to the batter’s box, positioning his bat behind his head, the Cardinals slugger waited for the pitch.

The kids were in a state of laughter at the sight of the colorful Jeffrey.

The pitcher stepped off the mound and released the ball from his hand. After firing the baseball, he got into a fielding position. The crowd was hushed as the ball flew down to home plate.

Baseball spinning through the air, the batter waited until the right time, calculating the distance between him and the ball, and then swung the bat.

The aluminum bat making contact with the ball made a loud sound, and at once Jeffrey and Lena stood up. The pair standing caused the boys to rise to their feet as well. Their laughter transforming to excitement, the boys’ scorecards fell down off their laps. Each youngster extended his hand up in the air.

The crowd, once muted, erupted into cheers.

“And that ball, is out of here!” the announcer said.

The baseball flying toward them, the two cheerleaders extended their arms up to accommodate the height. Watching the stitches on the ball spin toward him, the white leather mixing in with red lettering and dirt spots, the homerun approached Jeffrey in dream speed.

The outfielders craning their heads, they watched the ball exit the field of play.

The ball screaming toward the Drama Dolls, Lena ducked out of the way, hiding her head behind Jeffrey’s body. “Ahh,” she cried, crouching down to cover herself.

Reaching out, his eyes focused on the ball, the boys jumping up and down in front of him, Jeffrey pulled the baseball down in his grasp.

Lena shrieked, her head shrunk down into her body. Her shoulders were up above her ears. The beers, still intact, were sitting on the bleacher between them. The boys in front of them were screaming. The elderly man was clapping until his hands turned red.

On the big screen, the entire stadium yelling, high fiving each other, blaring their appreciation into the field as the batter rounded the bases, was a grown man wearing a full face of makeup. Russian Red lip gloss in the center of the Jumbotron. A warm foundation covered by pale pink blush. Jeffrey’s mouth wide open into a smile, holding up the ball for everyone to see.

And Lena, she was crouched behind, her ass sticking out of Jeffrey’s hip. Looking like a multi-person costumed animal of some sort.

The audience, together, snickered.

Rounding the bases, hearing the roars and laughter coming from the crowd, Manny Valens looked up at the big screen and then tripped over his cleats. Tumbling into a somersault on the dirt.

Over the speaker, the announcer, calling the game, he said, “And there’s a souvenir for some sort of clown centaur-like creature.”

The inner child, it was as happy as could be.

Walking back to the Corvette, flipping the ball in the air and catching it, Jeffrey held his head up in pride. A couple game goers walking by congratulated him on the catch. He smiled, held the ball up as proof, and continued on his way.

Lena walked next to him, intermittently holding his free hand and grazing his hip.

The car still a baseball diamond away, the two recounted the game. “I can’t believe you caught a homerun ball,” Lena said. Embarrassed about hiding behind him, she said, “I wish I got to see you catch it.”

Jeffrey turned to her and put his free arm around her waist. Pulling her in close to him, he said, “Forget the game.
You
were great.”

She smiled and dug her head into him.

Going with the flow, Jeffrey said, “Trust me. You didn’t miss much.” Leading the way as the couple headed to the sports car, he said, “The ball was coming so fast
I
didn’t even see it.”

Placing her hand on his chest, the couple walked to the car. A beeping sound caught their attention. Following the sound, Jeffrey and Lena saw that a tow truck was backing in toward the Corvette.

Screaming at the top of his lungs, his gait moving from a casual walk to a jog, Jeffrey said, “Hey! That’s my car.” Releasing Lena from his grasp, the child at heart zoomed in on the scene. His jog became a sprint. Jeffrey dropped the baseball and bolted to the sports car. His face sweating from the sun, his nose itchy the entire sprint.

The beeping sound continued, louder and louder as Jeffrey got closer.

Lena picked up the ball off the pavement and jogged the rest of the way.

The tow truck driver, watching Jeffrey get closer, ignored the makeup-clad cheerleader and continued with his job. The slide on the tow truck was hydraulically declining down to accommodate the car. Pulling the ‘Vette with a winch, the sports car began to roll toward the truck’s bed.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Jeffrey said. Breathing heavily, his face humid from sweat, he continued the sprint to his luxury car.

Lena, still a ways back, slowed to a powerwalk.

The tow truck driver, observing the car owner as he approached closer, strained his neck to get a better view. Seeing Jeffrey run toward him, face out of focus from the up and down motion, the truck operator started to snicker. A multi-colored face, hovering like a ghost on the indistinct Jeffrey, bouncing closer and closer to him. The snicker turned to laughter, as the makeup grew to resemble the Cheshire Cat from
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
.