He'd only said it in passing. A pathetic, McMacintosh attempt at a comeback. Of Course, Tony told himself, what on earth did you expect from a guy who'd had all the computers he'd ever owned in his life mailed to him?
But somehow, those words had stayed with him, and Tony Dinozzo found himself sitting his sofa, on his fifth beer, his senses too dulled to acknowledge anything about the movie on his flat screen other than it had some hot woman in a naughty Santa suit. Geez, wasn't this for kids?, he wondered.
He took a long gulp of Budweiser and sighed, as rain beat out an intoxicating rhythm on his roof and thunder cracked in the distance.
*
Crack!
Wood hit canvas and the ball went flying high over the Height's Little League diamond, arcing in the sky and eclipsing the sun before dipping down and disappearing behind the dewy, lush shrubbery that fenced the park.
He was mobbed. A blur of eight-year-olds,all laughing and shouting, celebrating their victory with sloshed Gatorade and a show of small gloves in the sky. Never mind that it was the kid who dressed in sailor suits with a funny last name who watched all these dorky movies with talking instead of robots.
They were winners, and he couldn't have felt more secure and safe and worthy than he did enveloped between admirers.
*
Crack!
His beefy hand collided with the boy's face. 'Are you crazy, Tony? You gonna let your school slip just 'cause some meathead football coach said you have a chance? A chance? You won't get through life taking chances, goddammit! You're risking everything, y'know that? You get nowhere taking risks! You stick to the plan like we talked about, got it?'
He wipes the blood from his face and smirks. 'No.'
And he stares on, as his name is slashed from the will and porcelain and silver are thrown to destruction around him. As his father's voice grows louder, he rides high on his dreams. This is not forever. Eventually, that plunge will end in the waters of paradise.
*
Crack!
Through the thunder, Tony hears the phone ring. As if by instinct, he knows it's Ziva. Gibbs would call his cell. McGoogle would e-mail him. Abby would be on her fourth call. He wipes the beer from his lips.
Maybe it is time to say Yes. He's been waiting for paradise long enough.