Jordan returns to her apartment a few hours later. She turns on a light
and notices all the equipment is gone. Every trace of the stake out was
gone, including Woody.
Her father showed her no sympathy when she saw him earlier. She should have just gone straight to the Federal building. But Jordan had a feeling by now either Woody or the DA would have the National Guard posted out front to keep her out.
Drained, Jordan walks through her empty apartment and prepares to take a shower. She steps into the bathroom half expecting to see the toilet seat up. She was strangely disappointed to see it down. As she steps into the shower she found herself trying to pick out the residual smell his soap in the air of the enclosure.
By the time she had her hair dried she knew she had to see him. If anything to find out just what was going on. Jordan quickly dresses deciding to stop by his office first. She grabs her bag and opens the door.
Woody has to catch himself from falling face first into the apartment as Jordan's door swings open right as he is about to knock. As it is his precariously balanced pile of pizza box and movie tape begins to tip. He rebalances them and says "Ah hi, it's not to late I hope, can I come in?...I brought peace offerings..."
Jordan puts her bag back down on the entry table and smiles as she looks over the pizza box, six-pack of long necks, and video box. "Extra olives...?"
"Of course"
Jordan takes the pizza from his hands as she steps out of the way.
"Were you headed back out again Jordan?"
"Ah no ...what movie did you bring?"
Woody grabs the box and walks over the TV and grabs the remote. "It's not a movie. It's Game Six...Nigel was right this town is obsessed. They had a copy of it at the library."
"The library is open late on a Friday night?"
"Yes"
"You need a life Woody."
"Probably" Woody cues up the tape "I guess I really should watch the game and see what the big deal is."
With pizza and beer in hand Jordan walks over to sit on the sofa. "What, you mean you never watched the game?"
"Not exactly, I watched part of it. It's not like the Brewers were playing. If I remember right they were out of it by August. Mom made us turn the TV off by the 5th inning."
"Why, didn't you finish your lima beans at dinner?"
"No, It wasn't my fault" Woody says from the kitchen. "It was Cal's. You see we played Little League that summer. I was just trying to teach him how to throw a slider....with Mom's new glass paperweight from her trip to Chicago."
"Oh no"
"Oh yes, the knucklehead let it go."
Woody sits down next to Jordan as she asks "How much damage?"
"Both a lamp and a window."
"Ouch"
Woody pushes play on the VCR and leans back on the sofa throwing his arm over the back. "I wasn't able to sit for a week when Dad got through with us. Needless to say the rest of the Series was out of the picture."
Jordan tucks herself in next to him. "Well, Dad let me ditch school for the game. If the lose wasn't bad enough the rain out the next day and the fact we had scalp our Game 7 tickets made the drive home horrible."
"At least we were both miserable."
"True, but at least I could sit."
"So, fill me in on what exactly happened in the game...."
"Gladly"
All thoughts of Cahill disappear from Jordan's head as she gives play by play for the first four innings. By the seventh she lays her head on Woody's shoulder and only occasionally complains about the umpires. By the time Mookie Wilson steps up to the plate in the tenth. Jordan is sound asleep with her arm draped around Woody's waist. Woody grabs the remote and turns off the TV. Laying his head back he pulls Jordan a little closer and waits for sleep to claim him. He had lived for seventeen years never really seeing the play. He'd live for another seventeen. Sleeping with Jordan in his arms was far more appealing. He probably should wake her up and leave. But selfishly he thinks to himself, not tonight. Tomorrow was early enough to go back to drawing lines in the sand.
The End
Her father showed her no sympathy when she saw him earlier. She should have just gone straight to the Federal building. But Jordan had a feeling by now either Woody or the DA would have the National Guard posted out front to keep her out.
Drained, Jordan walks through her empty apartment and prepares to take a shower. She steps into the bathroom half expecting to see the toilet seat up. She was strangely disappointed to see it down. As she steps into the shower she found herself trying to pick out the residual smell his soap in the air of the enclosure.
By the time she had her hair dried she knew she had to see him. If anything to find out just what was going on. Jordan quickly dresses deciding to stop by his office first. She grabs her bag and opens the door.
Woody has to catch himself from falling face first into the apartment as Jordan's door swings open right as he is about to knock. As it is his precariously balanced pile of pizza box and movie tape begins to tip. He rebalances them and says "Ah hi, it's not to late I hope, can I come in?...I brought peace offerings..."
Jordan puts her bag back down on the entry table and smiles as she looks over the pizza box, six-pack of long necks, and video box. "Extra olives...?"
"Of course"
Jordan takes the pizza from his hands as she steps out of the way.
"Were you headed back out again Jordan?"
"Ah no ...what movie did you bring?"
Woody grabs the box and walks over the TV and grabs the remote. "It's not a movie. It's Game Six...Nigel was right this town is obsessed. They had a copy of it at the library."
"The library is open late on a Friday night?"
"Yes"
"You need a life Woody."
"Probably" Woody cues up the tape "I guess I really should watch the game and see what the big deal is."
With pizza and beer in hand Jordan walks over to sit on the sofa. "What, you mean you never watched the game?"
"Not exactly, I watched part of it. It's not like the Brewers were playing. If I remember right they were out of it by August. Mom made us turn the TV off by the 5th inning."
"Why, didn't you finish your lima beans at dinner?"
"No, It wasn't my fault" Woody says from the kitchen. "It was Cal's. You see we played Little League that summer. I was just trying to teach him how to throw a slider....with Mom's new glass paperweight from her trip to Chicago."
"Oh no"
"Oh yes, the knucklehead let it go."
Woody sits down next to Jordan as she asks "How much damage?"
"Both a lamp and a window."
"Ouch"
Woody pushes play on the VCR and leans back on the sofa throwing his arm over the back. "I wasn't able to sit for a week when Dad got through with us. Needless to say the rest of the Series was out of the picture."
Jordan tucks herself in next to him. "Well, Dad let me ditch school for the game. If the lose wasn't bad enough the rain out the next day and the fact we had scalp our Game 7 tickets made the drive home horrible."
"At least we were both miserable."
"True, but at least I could sit."
"So, fill me in on what exactly happened in the game...."
"Gladly"
All thoughts of Cahill disappear from Jordan's head as she gives play by play for the first four innings. By the seventh she lays her head on Woody's shoulder and only occasionally complains about the umpires. By the time Mookie Wilson steps up to the plate in the tenth. Jordan is sound asleep with her arm draped around Woody's waist. Woody grabs the remote and turns off the TV. Laying his head back he pulls Jordan a little closer and waits for sleep to claim him. He had lived for seventeen years never really seeing the play. He'd live for another seventeen. Sleeping with Jordan in his arms was far more appealing. He probably should wake her up and leave. But selfishly he thinks to himself, not tonight. Tomorrow was early enough to go back to drawing lines in the sand.
The End