A/N: Part two of the baseball scene, with a bit more Hollins interaction, and Alex's view on Blake might be changing drastically too. Title is a bit lame – but it eludes to the fact that everyone has their secrets. The bit with the commentary features the actual words spoken in the 1995 World Series. Enjoy!
Chapter 14 – Dirty Little Secrets
Alex turned off the stereo as she killed the engine of her truck, pausing briefly in her seat. Looking at the clock, she figured the game was nearing the end. It had taken longer than she would have liked; a major traffic build up on the way had meant it was murder getting close to the centre of Baltimore, and parking was always a little difficult. Then, for whatever reason, her usual go to for shoes was out of her size, meaning she had to go further in and search for another dance shop. That wasn't particularly difficult, given MSA being nearby and a lot of the young people in this area attended, but it was still a massive inconvenience.
She had done her best to hurry back – partly because she wanted to watch the game as she always did, partly because she had taken what her father had said a few nights prior and decided she was looking forward to spending some time with Blake. Something had changed in her mind, and there was a sudden surge in her to let him in to her world. Her Dad certainly liked him – from that brief encounter, she had to point out – and hadn't let a day go by without inquiring after him. Which she supposed was quite sweet; judging by his parents, Blake needed an adult in his life that would like him whether he could echappe or not.
So Alex had looked forward to today, though neither she nor Blake had said a word about it apart from exchanging times, and here she was, missing it. Plus, her father was hilarious during games; he got so into it. She could only hope they hadn't fallen out while she'd been gone, she thought as she grabbed her shopping bag and got out of the car. Or worse, she thought again, paling a little - her father had brought up something embarrassing. It was entirely plausible, if he thought he could get a rise out of Blake – and with no Alex to keep him in check, William was an unstoppable force.
Stepping towards the house, she opened the door quietly. The volume of the TV had gone up since she left, but that wasn't the only sound she could hear.
Raised voices.
The initial emotion was panic; her father often got into the game, but she could hear Blake's voice too, crying just as loud and that was what made her drop her bag and shoot into the lounge. Blake only ever shouted at her – and if she wasn't there, what could there possibly be to make him lose his solid nerve? The first sight that met her eyes was the picture of both men sat forward in their chairs, their faces mapped with intense concentration and in her father's case, infuriation.
"And Mark Wohlers is stepping out to pitch the ninth inning and the final one of the match – this is the Indian's last chance to even it up with the Braves. Now Wohlers favours the fastball and clocked an impressive 103 mph in a training session earlier this year – it'll be interesting to see what he comes up with," the commentator said excitedly.
"Come on, Baerga – don't let me down," her father muttered aggressively.
Blake scoffed, and took a sip of his drink. "Ha! The way he's been playing? He's not known which way is up since the game started!"
William raised his arms in a defensive way. "Hey now Mr. Hotshot – let's see you under that amount of pressure! He's got the World Series riding on his back. You'd sweat a little too I reckon, boyo."
Blake gave him a crooked smile. "Excuses excuses, William. You're sinking fast."
Alex started back a little. William? A far cry from 'Sir', or 'Mr. Hale'. They could have been father and son in that cosy setting. Making Blake her brother, she realised with some alarm. Which she was glad that he wasn't, because she couldn't help but look at his forearms tensing as he screwed his fists up with frustration. She shook the thoughts out of her head – they were surprising and she couldn't recall exactly how they'd got there. When did she start admiring Blake Collins' physique in a non-professional way?
William turned his head to retort something and spotted Alex. "Oh hey Bug," he said, still sounded annoyed. "You're just in time to see the end. Are you alright?" he asked suddenly. "You look...peaky."
"Fine, just annoyed I've missed it. Going well?" she inquired, perching on the arm of a chair.
"Oh yeah," Blake answered over his shoulder. "The Braves are ahead, and your father's in denial." William growled in his direction, and Alex and Blake exchanged a broad smile.
"Better get your rubber gloves ready pops," Alex said in a sing song voice, earning a beer nut in the side of head for her troubles.
The commentator piped up again in his gruff voice. "Mark gets the sign...the line and the pitch...here it is! Long! Fly ball, big left centre – Grissom on the run! YEAH! The Atlanta Braves have won the Championship! Listen to this crowd!"
Alex watched the replay of as the batter hit the ball, and as he ran, the camera panned to watch as the baseball flew right through the air...and straight into the glove of one of the fielders.
"No!" her father cried, lifting his hands to head in horror.
"Marquis Grissom just..." Blake was saying shaking his head, with an expression of confused awe. "He should be a ballerina – that was elegant footwork."
The Atlanta Braves were all piling on top of one another on the screen with cries and cheers. "A mob scene on the field..." crackled the commentator over the noise.
"Damn you Carlos Baerga – now I have to clean the bathroom," William said sulkily, falling back into his seat.
Alex smiled. "I told you we'd win. Baerga is a great second baseman but he couldn't hit a pole if it was stood still," she remarked, rising from where she had been sat.
Blake stared at her with a bright expression of awe that he knew must match the one he had when she'd suddenly started rambling about the mechanics of his car. She'd been right too; he'd hunted down the car part and taken it to a garage to be fitted, and Isadora was running as if there had never been anything wrong. "You really know the game well, don't you?" he remarked. She shrugged and moved through to the kitchen, presumably to get herself a drink.
"Didn't Alex tell you she used to play?" William said with an expression of marvel. Blake raised an eyebrow.
"No, she didn't."
"Yeah, only little league obviously. Right up until she started at MSA, which was when she was...fifteen. Obviously she put dance first, but she still likes a game or two now and then with her old team mates. Well, I say that. She's not played in a while. She was good too – a good pitcher and a good batter."
"Yeah, I'd noticed she was pretty good at hitting things," Blake said wistfully, recalling how she'd punched him a few days ago on the arm in rehearsal when he'd criticised her grand jete for not being extended enough. William smiled to himself.
"She's probably a bit annoyed she missed the game," her father commented. "I'll go see if she's ok."
"No, I'll go," Blake offered. "You said you wanted to see the after match analysis. And besides, I need another drink." William watched as the young man rose from his chair, where he'd been sat quite comfortably for the past hour and a bit, and smirked. Blake had warmed right into the game, and let himself go before he'd had any chance to realise what was happening. William knew it had been a good idea to invite him when, as David Justice scored a home run, Blake cheered and laughed. Having not heard the boy laugh outwardly before, it was a good thing to hear it fill the room, and knowing that it didn't happen often, William felt privileged.
XXXXX
Alex was pouring herself a glass of orange juice with her back to the door when she'd realised someone else had walked into the kitchen. Turning around, and expecting to see her father, she was met with Blake – standing up straight, sleeves pushed to the elbow, and looking at her as he always did.
"How did your search for shoes go?" he asked.
"I got a pair. Have to break them in first of course but I'll be do that tomorrow," she smiled. "You want a drink?"
Blake nodded. She pulled another glass from the shelf as he sat down at one of the stools of the kitchen's breakfast bar and watched her. He wasn't quite sure what to say; he had slipped into an easy rapport with William, and now Alex had returned the same strange constricted feeling his gut had gone with it. He had just about come to terms with the idea that he liked her, and William's warning had given him hope – that her father considered him a serious enough candidate to warrant the setting of boundaries. But did that mean Alex was going to reciprocate his feelings? Not at all – Blake had never gotten an idea before that she felt anything more towards him than gratitude and maybe a certain fondness.
"Enjoying yourself?" she asked, sliding the glass across to him and taking a stool herself. She'd never enjoyed the post match analysis and usually left after that. It didn't seem right to rub her victory in her father's face with Blake there either; she didn't exactly feel like a winner when she'd seen less than a minute of the game. Her friend nodded with a smile spreading across his face.
"Against all odds," he joked, copying his mother's tone and managing to make her smile again. "I never thought I'd get that into it, but your Dad's rather infectious."
"He's the best," she agreed with a fond expression.
"So – you're an ex-baseball player then?" Blake smiled. She shrugged in a non confirming way and muttered something that sound like 'I guess so'. Blake sighed. "You continue to surprise me at every turn. Waitress, baseball player, pick-up truck driver..." He hadn't meant to sound so teasing – after all, he meant it genuinely – but she smirked and cocked an eyebrow anyway.
"Coming from you. It seems the Blake Collins everyone else knows isn't the one I'm privy to."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
She ticked them off on her long fingers with a smile. "You adore your little brother, however mad he drives you, and would do anything to make his life better. You got a job and paid for your own car, when your parents could have gotten you one in a second if you'd have asked. Without the lovable rust patches. You eat ice cream, albeit occasionally. And you work at a sportswear store," she said finally with a knowing grin, sipping her drink. She quite enjoyed having the upper hand on him, and fortunately for her it happened quite regularly. "You have your secrets too Blake Collins, so don't act as if mine are criminal."
Blake's eyes flashed with something she couldn't read, making her wonder if she'd trod a little too far. But there was a pause, and he adopted a quiet smile. "How do you know where I work?"
"I have my sources," she said in a melodic tone, but seeing his face, she relented. "One of my old Little Leaguers. I believe you know a Chloe Montag," Alex explained. "She works in the baseball department?"
Blake took a deep breath. "Ah yes. I know Chloe." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. A nice enough girl, Chloe was a tomboy with braces and a kind face.
"Well, we're still in touch, and I mentioned you to her, when we first started being partners. And she told me you worked together," she said, examining her hands with a frown.
"What else did she tell you about me?" Blake asked.
"Apparently you're really quiet, but you get stock work done faster than anyone else. And you use your forty per cent discount in the dancewear section." She propped her chin up on her arm, resting her elbow on the counter and grinned. Blake seemed to be chewing his cheek with chagrin.
"Yes. We stock major dance brands at the back of the store," he said finally, and in a low mutter.
She laughed at his tone and rolled her eyes. "Well maybe I should have taken you with me to get my shoes and you could have gotten me some Bloch's with forty percent off?"
"I would consider that an exploitation of my employee privileges," said Blake wryly, finishing his drink.
"Just one question," Alex said, growing a little more serious, and leaning closer as she looked at him, apparently searching his face for her answer. "Why is it such a big deal? Why do you let everyone think you're this stuck up, obnoxious rich kid when you're not?" she asked. "You're a good person, who cares for his brother and would rather work hard than live off of someone else's back. That's nothing to be ashamed of. I don't understand"
He held up his hands and shrugged. "People expect something from me, and they don't bother to look past it. I can't help that."
"And you don't bother to put them straight," Alex remarked, picking up their empty glasses and taking them to the sink.
Blake paused, and before he could say anything she was talking again. "Don't get me wrong. I really like who you are, all this 'facade' stuff aside. I wish everyone else could see it."
He thought about it. "No one would believe you anyway. 'King Collins' doesn't have an easy going side. I can just see you telling Jane that we went for ice cream," he said with a faint smirk, almost chuckling to himself. Alex smiled too.
"She'd have a heart attack. She already thinks we're secretly dating."
Blake would have choked if he'd have been eating or drinking. "Really?" he asked in a falsetto voice.
"Yeah," Alex said with a frown. "She hinted at it a couple days ago."
"How strange."
"She was probably joking but...well," Alex observed, looking out of the window. "It's not really that odd an assumption. If you think about it, I spend all my time with you, including my spare time now," she added with a kind smile. "From the outside world, I suppose it might look like that. And we're like two peas in a pod when you think about it. Except, of course, you have way more faults than me."
Blake scoffed. "In what universe is that then?" He wasn't sure what else to say – she'd just about admitted that to the outside world, and to them, they seemed like a logical pairing. Was that an indication? Or just an observation? Relationships were hard work, Blake concluded with a heavy sigh. That was probably why he didn't embark on many of them.
But putting all logical feelings aside, and if he were to go on what his heart was saying, it was that for the first time in a long time he was happy, and he was convinced his happiness would be greatly increased if he could just lean across the breakfast bar and kiss her.
"Laugh it up all you want, Blake Collins," Alex said, causing him to turn his attention back to reality rather sharply. She was cheerful again and rootling in the freezer for something. "Ice cream?" she grinned, pulling out a small tub. He eyed it curiously and hesitated. "It's not Andre's," she sighed sadly, falling into her seat wearily, with two spoons in one hand and the ice cream in the other. "But it's still pretty good."
"I don't know," Blake said quickly, raising his hands in a kind of gesture to stop her. "Your Dad already rammed some Doritos down my throat and made me eat three Twinkie bars. I think I'd be pushing it with Ben and Jerry's."
She gave him a reproachful look and slid the tub over to him. "Join me on the dark side, Blake."
He hadn't said anything, face still unsure, when she handed him a spoon with a smug look that told him this was a challenge, and backing down would make him a coward. Which he was not, he thought, taking the spoon.
"This is starting to feel like a torrid affair," he remarked, dipping his spoon into the tub. "I blame you. You've drawn me into temptation."
"You're the one that made ice cream your secret lover, Blake," Alex said in a soft voice, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "Here in begins your long and painful journey down a road of heartache and secrecy."
"The only thing that will be painful," Blake concluded, swallowing a mouthful, "will be my mother's punishment when she finds out how much junk I've been eating."
"Who says she has to know?" Alex asked slyly.
"You're corrupting me, you know that?" Blake said weakly, and all Alex could do in reply was pop a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth with a smile.
XXXXX
"Well, I should probably head off," Blake concluded as he looked at the clock on the Hale's mantelpiece. It was past nine, and although he felt he could easily have stayed a lot longer, he was beginning to feel tired and he had work in the morning. He rose, prompting William to do so to, and Alex, who had been sat cross legged on the floor.
"Sure thing," William said, stretching after being sat down for so long. "But you know you're welcome in this house any time. For the smallest thing. You ever need a place to stay, I'll kick Alex out of her room and she can have the couch."
Blake shook his head as Alex play punched her Dad on the shoulder with a menacing glare. "I don't think that will be necessary, but thank you, sir."
"Back to 'sir' are we?"
"Sorry...force of habit," Blake grinned apologetically.
"Blake was raised with manners, Dad," Alex explained. "You might not recognise them."
William sniffed, scratching his head. "Manners? Isn't that a type of Jewish bread?"
The two teens groaned quietly and Blake turned to go to the doorway. "Thanks...for a great day," Blake managed awkwardly, looking at the both. "It was a lot fun."
"Like I said," William insisted, taking the boy by the shoulders. "Any time."
He left shortly after and they both heard the purr of the Mustang as it fired up on the street and pulled away. Alex began clearing away the empty snack bowls immediately, stacking them, grabbing glasses where she could and began ferrying them through to the kitchen.
"Not a bad kid," William remarked, following her with some beer nuts and tossing some into his mouth.
"No, he isn't really," his daughter replied, filling the sink with hot water, staring out of the window. "You know I'm actually quite proud of you," she grinned, sounding like a pleased schoolteacher. "You managed to not embarrass either of us significantly, and I think that's a great accomplishment for you."
William mock bowed.
"And you obviously got along well – when I came back from town, you were best buddies," she teased.
"Yeah, once I got 'the Talk' out of the way, he really lightened up."
Alex spun on her heels with soapy hands and eyes as wide as dinner plates. "You did what?"
William, who was putting bags of chips back in the cupboard, looked over at her blankly. "I gave him 'The Talk'."
"What talk?" his daughter almost whispered.
"You know...the 'I know you like my daughter and if you hurt her, I'll kill you' talk," William said nonchalantly, waving a hand. He wiggled his eyebrows. "It went well."
Alex's mouth gaped open and she screwed up her eyes. "You didn't!"
"Well...it was a little more flowery than that," he admitted. "I carefully explained that you were very special and I wasn't going to see you get hurt."
"Why on earth would you do a thing like that?" Alex cried, drying her hands angrily. "I thought you wanted us to be friends! You've probably creeped the poor guy out!"
"I would have thought my reasons for doing it were obvious, Bug," William frowned. "The boy likes you. I figured I'd lay down some ground rules."
"We're just friends!"
"Oh come on – the kid couldn't take his eyes off you all night. Laughing at your jokes, teasing you. He's not exactly Mr. Subtle."
"You're delusional."
"I'm sorry," her Dad shrugged. "I call it like I see it. And it's not exactly one sided either," William retorted, leaving the kitchen. Alex stormed after him and watched as he retreated into the living room; a strange heat was working its way up her spine. She couldn't tell if her Dad was teasing her, or if he was telling the truth about Blake, and the very idea that he might be was making her feel flustered and hot.
"I take back what I said about being proud of you." She folded her arms and glowered at him. "And I think you should see Dr. Kellstein soon. You're clearly going through some kind of psychological trauma. There is something seriously the matter with you." And with that she returned to the kitchen, leaving William to chuckle to himself over her outburst.