Steele at the Game
April 17, 1985
"Really, Laura, is it necessary to rub elbows with half the population of Los Angeles in order to enjoy your national pastime?" Steele said a bit testily as he and Laura negotiated the crowd streaming into Dodger Stadium.
"Buck up, Mr. Steele. These fans are a big part of the experience." Laura's deep brown eyes twinkled as she glanced up at the namesake of the Remington Steele Detective Agency. "Besides, LA loves you, remember?"
"I don't believe this crowd reads anything that isn't on the sport's page." When an exuberant tow head, weary father trailing, snapped a pennant flag in front of Steele with an ear splitting war cry, he protested, "Couldn't we have enjoyed the game on television, with a glass of wine, and soft music playing in the background?"
"And miss the excitement of the cheers and the smell of hotdogs and popcorn?" Laura asked incredulously. "I thought I owed it to the late Mr. Kelsey, once the season began, to actually take to you one of the games you professed to be a 'keen observer' of."
"Ahh, yes. Poor Mr. Kelsey. His best friend used his love of baseball to…tchk, tchk…knock him off so to speak," Mr. Steele offered dryly.
"Hey!" Laura scowled as a beefy man in a faded muscle shirt nearly bowled her over as he plowed toward the ticket gate.
Steele steadied Laura and moved to shield her from the pressing crowd, one hand resting protectively on her arm, the other at the small of her back. "All part of the fun, eh?" he asked as she handed their tickets to the uniformed employee at the gate.
Laura shrugged. "It's baseball, Mr. Steele, not tennis." As they entered the stadium, Laura resettled an oversized blue cap sporting the Dodger's trademark "LA," pulling her ponytail more firmly through the opening in the back.
"Hoping to grow into that hat?" Steele asked with amusement.
"It was my father's," Laura responded briefly.
"Hmm. Passed it on to you along with his love for the 'team,' did he?" Steele mused.
"I pulled it out of a bag of things my mother set out for the Salvation Army."
Laura studied the ticket stubs and then the signs hanging from the ceiling before she glanced up to see Steele's stricken face. "It's just a hat, Mr. Steele. Really." Laura patted his arm to reassure him.
Leaving Steele standing out of the way, Laura waited in the press of fans to purchase a game day program. Steele studied his cap-wearing partner.
The stories from Laura's early life were as muddied and varied to Steele as his were to her. New facets of their pasts were revealed with each case, each day they spent together. Baseball was an intriguing clue to some phase of Laura's life.
Steele leaned against a railing, waiting while Laura secured her game book. As she approached him, nose buried in the pages of the program, Steele tapped the brim of her cap. "So, Laura, you may not fill out the hat, but you clearly have more than a working knowledge of the game."
"Well, sure, I played baseball for a few years. I told you that when we took Kelsey's case at the Golden Dugout."
"Part of the little league extortionists, were you?" Steele appraised Laura, head to toe. "Uniform and all?"
"Girls didn't play little league at that time." Laura looked up at the stadium signage again. "Come on; this way. Our seats are ten rows back on the first base line."
"Excellent." Steele followed her through the stream of Dodger's fans pouring into the stadium around them. "I can observe first-hand how your baseball heroes get to first base."
"Mr. Steele! You're missing the action!" Laura punched Steele's arm, knocking it off the armrest between them. "Don't fall asleep on me now! This is exciting - the game's in extra innings!"
"Ohhh," groaned Steele as he jerked awake and looked blearily about him. "Laura, I worked my fingers to the bone all day on the Goodwin and Mitchell cases. How can you expect me to focus on baseball into the wee hours of the morning?"
"Oh, come on! It's not even 10:00 - you can't tell me you're tired! If we were watching a movie, you'd be filling me in on all its finer points." Laura gripped Steele's arm encouragingly and pointed to the field. "Look down there. You're watching the great Pedro Guerrero! He's hot stuff! And that's Oral Hershiser pitching."
The scoreboard that Steele groggily focused on was filled with zeros. The same stale beer sat in the cup holder in front of him. There were perhaps a few more empty seats around the stadium but to the best of Steele's observations, absolutely nothing had changed during the brief moments he had drifted off.
Steele shivered slightly, the April evening air having chilled to an uncomfortable coolness. He zipped his leather jacket and crossed his arms, turning to watch Laura.
Laura's face, framed by the battered baseball cap, was alight with interest in the game as she commented to the fan on her left about an earlier confrontation between the umpire and a player. Her eyes were riveted on the brightly lit field in front of them. Her left hand was poised over the game book in which she neatly recorded each bit of the face-off between the Astros and her Dodgers.
Glancing briefly at Steele, Laura's face took on a puzzled air. "What are you looking at? The game's down there!"
"The game I'm most interested in is a little closer to me." Steele said with a sideways grin, one eyebrow arched as he reached out to lazily trace the line of Laura's jaw.
"Look, Mr. Steele," Laura cajoled, pointing to the field as a crescendo of organ music rose in the stadium. "The Dodgers are batting again."
Steele remained as resolutely focused on Laura's sweet face as she was on the game. Her dark eyes sparkled and her dimples flickered appealingly around her mouth. She had momentarily forgotten Steele's presence next to her, leaving him free to observe her without interruption.
Laura was standing now, fingers crossed in front of her in a silent prayer. As she rocked on her toes, Steele was reminded of Laura's prowess as Mickey Boggs, both on the pitcher's mound and as shortstop. In the blink of an eye Laura could seamlessly slide from delicately feminine to deftly capable. The determination and cool demeanor she displayed as a detective was replaced now by animated and passionate enjoyment of this game.
Suddenly the seats around them erupted in cheers. Steele watched in amusement as Laura's clenched hand rose in triumph, celebrating some accomplishment at the plate. A thunderous roar filled the stadium. Laura jumped up and down pumping her fists.
Launching herself at Steele, Laura crushed him in a jubilant hug. "An eleventh inning run, Mr. Steele! We won!" She shook a surprised Steele by the shoulders.
"We did?" Steele said, leaning back in his seat, the shock of Laura's sudden attack stunning him momentarily.
"It took awhile," Laura acknowledged, "but a win is a win no matter how long it takes, Mr. Steele."
"A philosophy I'm coming to appreciate more each day, Miss Holt." Steele paused and gestured vaguely. "So did you celebrate your little league victories by embracing your teammates?"
"NO! And I didn't play little league, remember?" Laura colored slightly, and then grinned impishly. "When I played ball with the neighborhood kids the winners celebrated with a high five or a slap on the backside."
A crack, a whistle, and an air-shattering boom followed. Brilliant, chrysanthemum bursts of light filled the sky behind Laura's beautiful face as fireworks celebrated the Dodger's win.
Suddenly seized with decisive clarity of purpose, Steele reached with long and tender fingers to pull Laura's smile close, meeting it with his own gently curved mouth. Steele closed his eyes; Laura's closed as well, the sparks flying between the two consuming every sense. The fireworks that lit the skies above Dodger Stadium had nothing on the dazzling fireworks taking place in row ten along the first base line.
Reeling, Laura pulled back from Steele. As the last bits of fire trickled from the sky above Dodger Stadium, Steele rose to his feet to draw his favorite Dodgers fan into an embrace.
"So, have I made a baseball convert of you, Mr. Steele?" Laura asked her voice slightly unsteady.
The Dodger's cap acquired a rakish angle on Laura's head. Steele pulled Laura's hat from her thick hair and holding it aloft, contemplated first it and then the tumbling locks he had liberated. He grinned.
"I'll play ball any time you like, Miss Holt."