Chapter 3/4
David made his way quickly up the bleachers, taking each seat in a leaping bound as he approached the blonde, who was now facing a dark-haired gentleman and a red-headed boy who looked to be about twelve.
"Mom!" the boy exclaimed as he attempted to break free of his father and run toward her.
"No, Mark! She's not allowed contact with us!" the man reprimanded harshly, pulling his son back.
"But Dad! Please!" Mark persisted, tears in his eyes. "She just wants to watch the game with us. She just wants-"
"Quiet down now, son, or the cops'll come! Just stop it, Mark!" the man scolded, evilly eyeing his estranged wife. She was reaching into her pink jacket.
"Ma'am, no! I have to ask you to step away from the bleachers!" David found himself interjecting, as though speaking in tongues. He was operating on sheer instinct at this point.
He accosted her from behind, a move that would usually be considered stupid when approaching an assailent, but David could not be injured. He would most likely survive a shotgun wound with no problems. But then again, the clouds above were thickening, and in a rainstorm, David could be weakened.
Presently, he wasn't considering that possibility at all as he methodically secured his hands around the woman's wrists, guiding her backward.
"Lady, this isn't the way!" he whispered against her face. "It's not. You'll go to prison. Trust me!" he protested. He backed the woman against the wall facing the outdoor aisle. Their altercation was beginning to draw a crowd.
Onlookers who did not understand the situation began to voice protests. "Hey, leave her alone, you pig!" shouted one of the spectators as he hurled a bottle of beer in David's general direction. He ducked as it smashed against the wall. The blonde screamed.
"Get off me, man!" she hollered, starting to writhe and struggle against him. "That's my son and I want to see him!" she added with a fiery roar.
David immediately secured her in a baskethold and pressed his mouth against her ear, hissing, "I know you have a gun. Now, listen to me! You use that fuckin' thing, you lose all chances of ever being happy again. Do you understand? Do you understand me?" he growled breathlessly.
The woman, obviously stunned that David knew her dark secret, ceased struggling and sank down a bit in his arms, beginning to cry profusely. "I just wanted to see my SON!" she bellowed incoherently.
"I know, I know you did," David whispered in an attempt to hush her. "But, there are other ways. Just talk to your husband. Maybe you can come to an agreement," he suggested, loosening his grip on her.
The man stood up, guarding his son behind him. He scowled and pointed angrily at his wife. "This woman's crazy! Take her away!" he insisted.
"Now, sir, I'm not about to do that just yet. Try to calm down," David placated to no avail.
"YOU are security, asshole! I SAID, take her away from me! She's dangerous!" the man spat viciously.
"Jason, please! I just want to see Mark," the blonde again insisted. "Please?" she asked softly, her tearful broken voice quivering with the hushed silence of the onlookers.
Jason looked around him, frowning. "You never change, Faith. Always making a spectacle of yourself! This what you call a good example for our son?"
"Good, that's good," David began. "You're talking. You're both talking. Now..." he looked toward the blonde. "Faith? That's a beautiful name." He turned his focus back to Jason. "And Jason, and... Mark?" he verified, looking down at the frightened boy. He nodded, still hiding behind his father.
"Well, look. The game hasn't started yet. What do you say we go back to the concession area here and work this out?" David posed.
Mark looked up at his father, who then looked at Faith, and she back to Jason.
"I think you three can discuss this calmly," David added, eyeing them all carefully. He could feel he was winning them over.
"This, this is crazy!" Jason interjected. "You, buddy, are a security guard, not a fuckin' psychoanalyst!"
"I'm a mediator, Sir. It's part of what I do. And right now, I'm mediating, so either join your wife and me back there or I'll have all of you removed!" David barked, startling the boy a hair. "I'm sorry," David immediately digressed.
"Whatever! This is fucking pathetic!" Jason bellowed as he reluctantly followed David, who led the way for the others.
"Back to your business, folks," David instructed of the onlookers.
David made his way quickly up the bleachers, taking each seat in a leaping bound as he approached the blonde, who was now facing a dark-haired gentleman and a red-headed boy who looked to be about twelve.
"Mom!" the boy exclaimed as he attempted to break free of his father and run toward her.
"No, Mark! She's not allowed contact with us!" the man reprimanded harshly, pulling his son back.
"But Dad! Please!" Mark persisted, tears in his eyes. "She just wants to watch the game with us. She just wants-"
"Quiet down now, son, or the cops'll come! Just stop it, Mark!" the man scolded, evilly eyeing his estranged wife. She was reaching into her pink jacket.
"Ma'am, no! I have to ask you to step away from the bleachers!" David found himself interjecting, as though speaking in tongues. He was operating on sheer instinct at this point.
He accosted her from behind, a move that would usually be considered stupid when approaching an assailent, but David could not be injured. He would most likely survive a shotgun wound with no problems. But then again, the clouds above were thickening, and in a rainstorm, David could be weakened.
Presently, he wasn't considering that possibility at all as he methodically secured his hands around the woman's wrists, guiding her backward.
"Lady, this isn't the way!" he whispered against her face. "It's not. You'll go to prison. Trust me!" he protested. He backed the woman against the wall facing the outdoor aisle. Their altercation was beginning to draw a crowd.
Onlookers who did not understand the situation began to voice protests. "Hey, leave her alone, you pig!" shouted one of the spectators as he hurled a bottle of beer in David's general direction. He ducked as it smashed against the wall. The blonde screamed.
"Get off me, man!" she hollered, starting to writhe and struggle against him. "That's my son and I want to see him!" she added with a fiery roar.
David immediately secured her in a baskethold and pressed his mouth against her ear, hissing, "I know you have a gun. Now, listen to me! You use that fuckin' thing, you lose all chances of ever being happy again. Do you understand? Do you understand me?" he growled breathlessly.
The woman, obviously stunned that David knew her dark secret, ceased struggling and sank down a bit in his arms, beginning to cry profusely. "I just wanted to see my SON!" she bellowed incoherently.
"I know, I know you did," David whispered in an attempt to hush her. "But, there are other ways. Just talk to your husband. Maybe you can come to an agreement," he suggested, loosening his grip on her.
The man stood up, guarding his son behind him. He scowled and pointed angrily at his wife. "This woman's crazy! Take her away!" he insisted.
"Now, sir, I'm not about to do that just yet. Try to calm down," David placated to no avail.
"YOU are security, asshole! I SAID, take her away from me! She's dangerous!" the man spat viciously.
"Jason, please! I just want to see Mark," the blonde again insisted. "Please?" she asked softly, her tearful broken voice quivering with the hushed silence of the onlookers.
Jason looked around him, frowning. "You never change, Faith. Always making a spectacle of yourself! This what you call a good example for our son?"
"Good, that's good," David began. "You're talking. You're both talking. Now..." he looked toward the blonde. "Faith? That's a beautiful name." He turned his focus back to Jason. "And Jason, and... Mark?" he verified, looking down at the frightened boy. He nodded, still hiding behind his father.
"Well, look. The game hasn't started yet. What do you say we go back to the concession area here and work this out?" David posed.
Mark looked up at his father, who then looked at Faith, and she back to Jason.
"I think you three can discuss this calmly," David added, eyeing them all carefully. He could feel he was winning them over.
"This, this is crazy!" Jason interjected. "You, buddy, are a security guard, not a fuckin' psychoanalyst!"
"I'm a mediator, Sir. It's part of what I do. And right now, I'm mediating, so either join your wife and me back there or I'll have all of you removed!" David barked, startling the boy a hair. "I'm sorry," David immediately digressed.
"Whatever! This is fucking pathetic!" Jason bellowed as he reluctantly followed David, who led the way for the others.
"Back to your business, folks," David instructed of the onlookers.
