Ben parked his SAAB outside the journalism building again. He took the steps leading up to the building two at a time. Henry had called for him to come down to the office this morning, but wouldn't tell him why. Ben was in a hurry because he had to make it back to Denver in time for his own classes. As he rounded the corner he received another rude surprise. Henry was seated at his desk, and standing in front of him was Miss Young. Immediately Ben went pale and his stomach began to turn. Miss Young had an absolute end of the world look on her face. Ben shifted his eyes back and forth between her and Henry as he approached. The grandfather was a retired newspaper reporter with very good instincts. Perhaps he'd followed Ben and overheard the conversation in Miss Young's office. "You wanted to see me Henry," Ben squeaked out. He turned to Miss Young and mouthed the words what's going on. She lowered her head and pointed at Henry. Ben closed his eyes and clenched his fists, here it comes!
"Son I'm sorry, but I'm about to wreck your plans for Thanksgiving." Henry took off his glasses and set them on his desk.
"Huh, what?" Ben squinted and his eyes darted right and left trying to understand.
"Well as you know Nebraska and Colorado are playing for the Big Twelve North Division Championship the day after Thanksgiving." Ben nodded. "Well two of your reporter charges have become ill, Mono. I know you're supposed to be an editor but I don't have any choice but to send you in place of them."
"Send me to Lincoln, as a reporter?" Ben sighed relief, realizing what was really going on.
"We need at least three guys covering the game. One writes the summary, one covers Colorado in the post game, the third covers Nebraska. With two sick that means I've got to send you. You'll be covering Nebraska's side of things that will be the easiest and shortest article to write. You'll attend their post game press conference and write about it. Any questions?" Henry leaned forward on his desk. Ben and Monica stayed silent. "Good here are your media credentials." Henry produced two laminated cards with clips attached to them. He handed one to Monica, and the other to Ben.
"Forgive me but what does she have to do with any of this?" Ben pointed a thumb at Miss Young.
Henry looked down and drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment. "Call it bosses privilege. A staff adviser usually accompanies the reporters on something like this. Normally that would be me. In this case however I'm the boss and I say I stay here for Thanksgiving, she goes with you and the others to Lincoln." Henry looked up at Monica who was almost crushing the media credential in her left hand.
"So all I'm really doing is baby sitting these boys?" Monica had her hands on her hips now.
"Well Yes, and." Henry looked down at his desk and away from Monica.
Monica winced and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers, "somehow I knew there was going to be an and."
Henry returned to drumming his fingers, "There is one other slight problem. We only have two hotel rooms booked."
"Then one kid sleeps on the floor, because I get a room to myself," Monica snapped.
"Fine, you four work that out. You'll travel with the team; plane leaves at 7:30PM Thursday night.
"Great two hours as a captive audience for a bunch of hormonal jocks." Monica said it as she turned to walk out of the building.
Ben ran to catch up to her and grabbed her arm on the front steps. "Hey, the plane ride is the least of your worries."
"What do you mean exactly?" Monica turned toward him and her eyes narrowed.
"You don't know much about football so let's put it this way. What is your favorite color?"
"Royal blue, why?" Monica tapped her foot to indicate her impatience.
"How do you feel about red, bright red?" Ben was repressing laughter as he asked.
Monica shrugged, "It's okay I guess, what's so important about the color red?"
"Oh you'll find out." Ben was laughing hysterically as he descended the steps and started his SAAB.
The Embassy Suites in downtown Lincoln is only two blocks from the football stadium. It's always home base for visiting teams any entourage they bring. Monica did make Ben and the other two reporters sleep in one room so she could have the other to herself. Even though it had two beds in it. On the Friday after Thanksgiving Monica was sleeping peacefully when she was rudely awakened by band music. She rolled out of bed and massaged her aching temples while stumbling over to the window. She drew the curtain and was hit with brilliant sunshine. This only served to make her headache worse however. She glanced over at the alarm clock: 6:03AM. As her eyes adjusted she saw the scene on the street below. Scanning out from her window she could see the stadium. It was an oval rotunda, and also the single tallest building on the campus. It was built entirely of dull grey concrete. The only color seemed to come from the colossal red "N" centered high on the long side. Several white semis bearing the logo "ABC Sports" were pulled to the curb on the street that ran alongside the stadium. Technicians were bustling in and out of these carrying a seemingly endless string of cables and wires. The music that had so cruelly awakened Monica was from Nebraska's marching band. Three hundred college kids dressed in red pants and white button downs with "Nebraska" stitched in fire engine red across the front. The band had a fully assembled drum line and every kind of orchestra instrument imaginable. Out on the street the parking lots outside the stadium were already filling up. RV's were being parked, grills, smokers, and other cooking devices brought to the ready. Nebraska is a state of about 1.7 million people, and at this moment they all seemed to be cramming themselves into the two-block radius around the stadium. Absolutely every one of the people on the street wore the same color red as the band. They were clapping and chanting to the music. Monica turned and looked at the alarm clock again. 'Christ the game isn't for another thirteen hours.'
Ben and the others were awakened by the noise as well. He opened the door adjoining their room to Monica's and stood in the doorway admiring her. She wore only a white nightshirt. The two other reporters soon joined Ben in the doorway. The shirt showed off Monica's legs quite nicely and one of the reporters whistled when he saw her. She whipped around an immediately rushed the boys "Get out, right now." She shoved them back into their room and slammed the door.
"Well that was a cheap thrill," One of the reporters said to the group. Ben's hands balled into fists and his cheeks flushed. He had to work unbelievably hard to control the urge to punch the guy. Eventually the other reporters went downstairs to have breakfast with the Colorado team. This allowed Ben to sneak back into Monica's room. She had put some sweatpants on and was back over at the window. Still astonished by the monochromatic scene below her. Ben crept up behind her and put his arms around her. It was an action born more out of familiarity then any type of planning or pretense. As soon as he did it he realized it, and half expected her to turn and hit him. Instead she nestled back into him and laid her head against his shoulder. "You were right, now I understand why you asked me if I liked red." Ben inhaled a deep breath smelling her hair, remembering her shampoo smelled like watermelons.
"Collectively Nebraska fans call themselves the sea of red, they practically worship football and their team." Ben massaged Monica's arms, which had goose bumps standing by the window.
"Yeah, well do services have to start thirteen hours before the goddamn game?" She turned her head and smiled at him. Unable to resist he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She lifted her head and kissed back, making no effort to stop him. Their hands found one another and fingers intertwined while they continued kissing. Monica came to her senses first and broke away. "Ben I think you should leave, right now."
"You didn't enjoy that," Ben massaged his lips with his fingers?
"Ben that was a slip, a slip back into what is comfortable and feels good." Monica grabbed his hands again. "Like I told you back in Seattle I'm sorry I started this whole thing. We can't do this." She was trying her best to be bitch Monica, but she wasn't succeeding.
"Like I told you back in Seattle I'm not at all sorry we started this." He approached and tried to wrap his arms around her again.
"Ben just please leave." She raised her voice as she fought him. The fact that he wasn't listening made her angry and allowed the bitch to be summoned. Ben slumped his shoulders and reluctantly retreated into the other hotel room. He closed the adjoining door behind him. Monica went into the bathroom and splashed water on her face. She leaned on the counter shaking her violently, admonishing herself for what had just happened.
Day passed into evening very slowly for Monica Young. She hated football and was bored out of her mind with this duty. The slip with Ben didn't help things either, as it made her dread what might happen after the game.
Monica, Ben, and the rest of the quartet left the hotel an hour before the game. Up till now they'd only observed the red mass of humanity. Now they actually had to try and navigate through it. The two-block walk took twenty minutes of bumping, jostling, and weaving to complete. As they entered the stadium Ben and Monica held hands, not out of romance but out of necessity. It was the only way to stay together. Ben looked something like Johnny Cash; he wore black jeans and a black CU Buffalos sweatshirt. His media credential was clipped to his belt, and he carried a laptop under his left arm. Monica wore a white turtleneck sweater and black pants, her pass was clipped to the underside of the neck. As they approached the media pass gate they stuck out like sore thumbs against all the people wearing red.
It's an experience most people, particular boys have early in life, but Monica had never had it. She'd attending many sporting events in her twenty-seven years, but never a football game outdoors at night. The sun was setting and it was dark beneath the stadium as Monica, Ben, and the others advanced up the catwalks to upper level. As they approached the entrance they came out of the dark and into a slightly blue tinged light. Monica twisted her head around as she entered the stadium, the dull roar of the crowd and the high-pitched voice of the PA announcer hitting her ears. The cool night air flushed her cheeks and began to blow her hair. Even though she didn't like football she had to admit the stadium was a picturesque sight. Banks of mercury oxide lights on the long sides of the oval lit the inside of the stadium brilliantly. Suddenly there was color in the world again, which the lights seemed to deepen. The field seemed very green contrasted against the pearly white yard lines and hash marks. The orange foam pylons marking the corners of the end zones also stood out. The "N" at the fifty-yard line, and the lettering in the end zones "Nebraska" in one, "Huskers" in the other blazed an even brighter red. The giant replay screen above located above the scoreboard on one of the short ends of the oval was almost blinding. The marching band was directly seated directly across from where the group had entered. It was still thirty minutes till kickoff, but red sea, 85,000 strong had already filled the stadium.
Ben re-gripped Monica's hand and started to lead her up the steps toward the press box. The incline was fairly steep and Monica lost a shoe about half way up. As she turned to retrieve it she unintentionally pulled Ben backward. Both lost their balance and tumbled. Ben saw twenty-five hundred dollars flash before his eyes as his laptop flew through the air. Monica braced herself but she never hit the ground. Neither did Ben's laptop; it was caught by one of the spectators.
A young man in a raiders sweatshirt had caught Monica. He held her for just a moment, transfixed by her beauty, before helping her back to her feet. The girl that caught Ben's laptop approached him to hand it back. As Ben and Monica recovered their bearings they found themselves surrounded by three people. "Nice catch, Saber, Aurora maybe we should put those red jerseys on you two," said a short, stocky farm boy in a red husker jacket.
"You okay Miss," the raiders shirt asked Monica, dusting her shoulders where he'd grabbed her. She rewarded him with a smile for using Miss instead of Ma'am.
"Fine thanks guys."
"I'm Jeff, the raiders shirt that caught you is SaberSeven, and the girl who caught the laptop is Aurora." The stocky farm kid introduced everyone.
"Yours I believe." Aurora looked up at Ben as she handed the laptop back, her fingers touching Ben's for just the briefest of moments. She was also rewarded with a smile.
"I'm Monica and that's Ben. Please tell me those aren't their real names."
"Sorry we've only met recently, there's this message board the three of us have been sort of obsessed with lately. So we tend to call each other by our Internet handles." SaberSeven continued.
"So you all decided to meet here?" Ben joined the conversation.
"We wanted to meet and jeff4bigred here said he'd buy us tickets if we could find a way to get here, so here we are." Aurora continued smiling cheerfully at Ben.
"Well thanks again guys we better get out of the isle." Ben and Monica said in unison.
The three fans turned and watched Ben and Monica ascend the rest of the steps and disappear into the press box. "Wow," Saber said to Jeff and Aurora.
"Wish I'd have caught her," Jeff said shaking his head.
"Ben isn't bad to look at either," Aurora was still smiling.
The press box seemed like a wholly different world than the stadium itself. It spanned the top of one of the long ends of the oval and was built like a high- rise structure; three levels stacked one on top of the other. The entire thing was sound proofed, so inside things were quiet to spite the frenzy just a few feet outside. However the lowest level of the box contained luxury suites and still had red clad fans milling about. Ben and Monica passed through the suites and took an elevator ride to the second level. The press level was open across the entire length of the box. Six terraced rows of long light grey tables covered the length. Folding chairs were available to sit in and the tables had consoles with Internet connections every foot or so. The group found seats in the front row and plugged their computers into the consoles.
With nothing else to do Monica propped her elbow on the table rested her head on her right fist and watched the boys work. In the press area there was no cheering or loud talking, in fact the dominant sound was the clicking of computer keys as people typed. This was a game between two unbeaten teams so most of the seats were taken.
The game started and Monica actually watched a little of it. From her height above the field the teams looked like the toy soldiers little boys play with. Eleven red and white soldiers against eleven black and gold soldiers scattered sparsely on the expanse of green.
Monica turned back to watching the reporters, but her eyes kept gravitating to Ben. It made her feel slightly voyeuristic to watch him work. It was feeling Monica liked more than she'd care to admit. He had a rhythm going, raise his eyes to watch a play, lower them to type something. Just like when Ben played chess his intensity was intoxicating. 'There are just so many things about him that are so damned irresistible.' Monica shook her head to clear the thought.
After the game Monica was left alone as the Ben and the other reporters dispersed to cover post game press conferences. She descended out of the press box and navigated the sea one more time, walking back to her hotel room. She sat on the edge of one of beds, in the dark, for a while thinking about what had happened that morning. She was scared of the pain he might cause, but she also remembered how good it felt to have his arms wrapped around her. 'Am I ever going to be able to stop this internal tug of war about Ben.' It was nearly midnight when she decided to take a walk to try and dismiss her thoughts. As soon as Ben's job was finished he returned to the hotel and opened the adjoining door: poking his head in looking for Monica, she was nowhere to found.
Monica wandered the street that ran in front of the stadium. The stadium lights were still on so the street was well lit, but it was nearly deserted now. The red sea had moved off to local restaurants and bars to celebrate. As she walked she came upon a group of three people taking turns throwing rocks and gravel at the ABC Sports trucks. She recognized them as the same three that had helped her and Ben. "Hey what are you three doing?" Monica walked over.
"Just a little property damage, ABC recently canceled this TV show we all liked." Aurora spoke for the group. Monica nodded and smiled.
"Something else we can do for you?" Saber asked hopefully, remembering how small and light she was in his hands.
"Nah I'm just avoiding somebody." Monica's face and voice were kind and gentle but sad.
"I see any particular reason," Jeff asked?
"Don't ask, it's complicated." Monica's face deepened its sadness.
Monica rubbed her arms to fight of the chill of the night air and continued walking. "Nice to have met you," the three shouted as she walked away.
Monica waved a hand and continued pacing, she didn't return to the hotel for quite some time.
"She's so pretty, but that is not a happy person." Saber said as the group returned to their stoning.