Rivals (2010) (6 page)

BEFORE JADEN COULD ANSWER,
a man in black livery wearing a driver’s cap and tie slipped out of the limousine and strode their way with an umbrella.

“Would you happen to be Miss Neidermeyer?” the man asked with a British accent, his mouth showing off strong white teeth beneath a silver mustache.

“Yes,” Jaden said.

“Quite right,” the man said, moving the umbrella to shield her from the rain. “This way please, Miss.”

Benji laughed and stared in disbelief. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“There’s a press conference,” Jaden said, a spark in her eye. “So, despite your bad joke, I am going to get to interview Mickey Mullen after all.”

“You’re taking a limo?” Josh said.

“They sent it,” Jaden said.

“Who?” Josh asked.

Jaden’s honey-colored face flushed. “Well, I think it’s the tournament, but it might be the Comets.”

“Yes, Miss,” the chauffeur said, “the Comets, and we do need to get going. We’re picking up several newspaper reporters who’ll be flying in from Los Angeles with the Mullens.”

“There’s no airport,” Josh said, wrinkling his eyes at the driver.

The driver cleared his throat and said, “There’s a
private
airfield. Miss?”

“I thought you’re supposed to be covering
our
team?” Benji said, casting an angry look at Jaden, then the driver. “These guys are from halfway across the globe.”

“Bud Poliquin, my editor at the
Post-Standard
, said that he’d love to have me do a story on the Comets if I got the chance,” Jaden said. “Come on, Benji, be serious, it’s
Mickey Mullen
.”

“Mullen, shmullen,” Benji said, turning to walk away. “Come on, Josh. Let’s go see the Babe’s statue.”

Josh followed Benji toward the shuttle bus, watching Jaden as the driver held the door for her so she could slip inside the limo. He and Benji climbed the stairs and found a husky lady with glasses and a Red Sox cap chomping gum behind the wheel of the shuttle bus.

“Hey,” Benji said brightly, touching his cap. “Go, Red Sox, right?”

“Welcome aboard the Beaver Valley Campsite shuttle,” she said without expression, banging the doors shut with a hand lever. “Bus picks up in town every hour. No gum, candy, food, or drinks allowed on the bus. No standing up. No pictures inside the bus ’cause those flashes drive me nuts.”

“We’re going to the Baseball Hall of Fame, please,” Josh said as they sat down in a torn seat.

“Just one stop,” the grumpy lady said, blowing a bubble and firing up the engine. “In the center of town. It’s not too far, though.”

“Couldn’t you just swing by there?” Benji said with his most winning grin. “That rain’s coming down in buckets. For a fellow Sox fan and all.”

The driver swung around and glared at him. “This look like a taxicab to you? It’s a shuttle bus. Yeah, I love the Sox. A lot of people do. I got two eyes and two ears like you, too. That doesn’t mean I’m taking you home for dinner.”

The smile on Benji’s face melted.

“You believe that?” Benji said, thumping his head against the glass as the limo pulled away. “Jaden’s doing
Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
while we’re stuck with this crazy old bat. Some friend.”

“Come on, Lido,” Josh said. “What do you want her to do? You’d take a ride in that thing if they asked you.”

“I’ll have my own limo before you know it,” Benji
said, grumbling and pulling his cap down low. “I don’t need a ride in anyone else’s.”

The bus pulled out after the long white limo, but they quickly lost sight of it as the bus rattled slowly along. When they pulled into a grocery store, Benji sat up straight and gripped the seat back in front of them.

“Hey, what’s up, lady?” he asked.

The driver adjusted her cap and stepped down off the bus. “Gotta pick up a few things. You two just sit tight.”

“Jeez,” Benji said, watching her. “You get that? She can’t drop us at the Hall of Fame, but she can stop for groceries. You gotta be kidding me.”

“We’ll get there,” Josh said, resting his chin on the seat back.

When the driver finally emerged carrying two cartons of milk in a plastic bag, Benji slapped his hand on the seat. As they drove into town, Benji pointed at an old brick building. “There it is! Hey, lady, just let us out.”

“No unauthorized stops,” she said without looking back.

The bus continued on for two more blocks and pulled to a stop at the curb where several rain-drenched visitors stood waiting under an awning. Josh followed Benji down the aisle to get off the bus. At the bottom step, Benji turned around.

“Lady,” Benji said, “honestly? It’s people like you who give Red Sox fans a bad name.”

“And you two brats can find your own way back,” the driver said. “I don’t have to take your abuse.”

“Whatever,” Benji said, stepping down and flicking his hand in the air.

“Lido,” Josh said, hustling to catch up. “You screwball. Now how are we going to get back?”

“Stop worrying,” Benji said, flipping his hood up over his hat. “Let’s just get there.”

They trudged silently through the rain, back up the street leading to the Hall of Fame. When they arrived, they saw that not one but seven stretch limousines had arrived. A small crowd of people was moving through the courtyard and in through the center of three arched entryways.

“There she is,” Benji said, “at the front of the line, Miss Fancy Pants, all snug and dry.”

To change the subject, as they got into line Josh pointed up at the faded brick building and said, “Just look at it, Lido. The Hall of Fame. Everyone who loves baseball comes to this place. Everyone in the world.”

“Yeah,” Benji said, looking around. “I could use a hot dog or something.”

When they got to the ticket booth, the man pushed his glasses up higher on his nose and studied them for a moment before he said, “Sorry, part of the museum’s west wing is temporarily closed due to the press conference. You’re welcome to come in and see the exhibits that aren’t blocked off, but access to the
entire museum won’t resume until five-thirty.”

“Five-thirty?” Josh said, turning to Benji. “That’s too late. We’ve got to be back by dinner, and we don’t even know how we’re getting back.”

“Can we see the Babe’s statue?” Benji asked, his hands plastered against the window of the ticket booth.

“And Hammering Hank’s,” Josh said.

“Uhh,” the man said, running his finger over a map he had in front of him, “no. Sorry. You’ll have to wait to see them. They’re holding the press conference at the auditorium near the Mickey Mullen exhibit. He’s here, you know.”

“Imagine that,” Benji said to the man. “Remind me to get his autograph…on a roll of toilet paper.”

The man frowned. “You two going in or not?”

“We got these passes,” Josh said, taking his out of his pocket. “We’re playing in the tournament. Can you let us in and give us, like, a rain check so we can come back to see the rest of it?”

“Sorry,” the man said. “One time only. I’d like to, but those are the rules.”

“Maybe we can get some more of these,” Josh said to Benji.

“Yeah,” Benji said, slapping his pass down for the ticket man, “let’s go.”

Inside, a woman in a red skirt and white blouse with her back to them hooked up a velvet rope to block the
doorway that led into the part of the exhibition where the press had gone. Josh looked around at the balls, bats, pennants, pictures, uniforms behind glass, and bronze statues from all the most famous players and teams the game had ever seen. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Benji,” Josh said softly, “if Jaden can go in there with all those other people, I just can’t see the harm if we slid in there too. This place is all about realizing your dreams, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not dreaming of a jail cell,” Benji said.

“Come on,” Josh said, eyeing the red velvet ropes and the woman guarding them. “No one’s gonna put two kids angling to see their heroes’ statues behind bars.”

“I don’t know,” Benji said, wrinkling his brow. “She’s standing right there. I don’t see how the heck we’re gonna get past her.”

“Shh,” Josh said. “I got a plan. Follow me and don’t say anything.”

JOSH TOOK ONE STEP,
then started to jog toward the woman and the red velvet rope. He waved his arms frantically and said, “Lady, lady, that guy in the ticket booth—I think he needs help!”

The woman spun around.

“He collapsed or something,” Josh said, his voice filled with fake panic, “the guy with the glasses.”

“Yeah,” Benji said, pointing back toward the entrance. “His face turned all purple and he keeled over. Hurry!”

The woman’s eyes went wide and her mouth became an O. She took off, running with her high heels clacking along the floor. Josh took Benji’s arm, stepped over the rope, and tugged him along.

“Man, Josh,” Benji said in an urgent whisper. “This is
great
.”

“His face turned
purple
?” Josh said. “Jeez, Benji.”

“You know I got a flair for the dramatic,” Benji said. “Did you see her take off?”

“Come on,” Josh said, “let’s get out of here before she figures it out.”

They rounded a corner and heard someone talking over a loudspeaker in a large hall, then a flurry of applause. They hurried past the crowd that stood watching the people up on a small stage at the end of the large space and soon lost their way in a deeper maze of empty passageways, displays, and small rooms. They walked quietly in the stillness and spoke in hushed voices so they could listen for the coming footsteps of the lady by the rope—just in case she decided to pursue them—or maybe something worse, like security guards.

“Man,” Benji said after a while in a regular voice, “where’s the Babe?”

“I think we just passed this way,” Josh said, keeping his voice down. “There’s Ty Cobb’s cleats again.”

“Yeah, imagine those things coming at you full speed,” Benji said, loudly now. “They’d punch a hole in your lung if he hit you right. But we gotta find
the Babe
.”

“Well, keep it down. We can’t ask anyone now. That’s for sure. Come on,” Josh said, checking his watch and doing his best to enjoy the sights and ignore the feeling of dread that crept into his bones whenever he did something he knew he shouldn’t really be doing.

They wandered some more and ended up right back at Ty Cobb’s cleats.

“You got to be kidding me,” Benji said, stamping around a couple more bends too quickly to look at anything before they stopped again.

That’s when they heard someone coming.

JOSH DUCKED BETWEEN A
large glass display on the evolution of the catcher’s mitt and the brick wall behind it, crouching low beside the wooden base and worming his way deeper in to make room for Benji, whose eyes had grown as large as grapefruits.

The voices kept coming. Benji gripped Josh’s arm and froze.

“What are they gonna do to us, right?” Josh whispered hopefully into Benji’s ear.

Benji’s grip tightened and he said, “Arrest us, that’s what.”

“For
what
?” Josh asked, his heart chilled.

“I don’t know,” Benji said with a quavering voice. “Trespassing or criminal mischief or something. Shh.”

Josh held still and listened and soon realized that the one voice belonged to a boy no older than them.

“So this is it,” the boy said, his footsteps stopping almost next to Josh and Benji’s hiding place. “Sandy Koufax.”

“Really? Not your dad?” a girl’s voice asked. It had a slight southern lilt to it.

“He was the best,” the boy said as if he hadn’t heard her question, “but he wouldn’t play on Rosh Hashanah no matter what. I mean, who does things like that anymore?”

“Hey,” Benji said, wriggling free from their hiding place before Josh could stop him. “Jaden? What’s up? Josh, come on out, man. It’s just Jaden.”

Josh felt his face go hot with embarrassment as he struggled to get free. When he did, he noticed the gray powder of dust covering Benji’s dark hair and shoulders. He looked down at his own clothes and realized he too was covered in dust.

“So, who’s that?” Benji asked, pointing at the boy.

“Hi,” the boy said, extending a hand to Benji, “I’m Mickey Mullen.”

Josh knew his name before he said it. Mickey Mullen Jr. had wheat blond hair like his father, only curly. His skin was tan and his eyes pale blue. The smooth skin on his face reminded Josh of a statue he’d seen in an advertisement: Michelangelo’s statue
David
. Josh touched the scar on his own discolored face.

Mickey wasn’t as thick as Josh, but he stood just as tall, and he smiled sheepishly when Benji stared at his hand like it was a rotten fish.

Josh looked at Jaden, who scowled and said to Mickey, “Don’t mind Lido; he wears his shirts so tight they cause a serious oxygen deficiency to the brain.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Benji asked, scowling right back and tugging on the collar of his T-shirt.

“I’m Josh,” Josh said, shaking Mickey’s hand and returning his smile. “She’s right; don’t mind him. He doesn’t really mean it.”

“This guy is the enemy,” Benji said, raising his voice. “Are you two kidding me? Look at this guy—all that’s missing is his surfboard.”

Jaden stepped closer to Mickey and touched his hand. “Come on, Mickey. Thanks for showing me.”

“What is he, like your new
boy
friend?” Benji said, pointing to Jaden’s hand.

Jaden snatched her hand away from Mickey’s and glared at Benji. “Easy, fathead.”

“Now I’m a fathead?” Benji said, raising his voice to a roar. “
You
turn traitor to the Titans and you cheat on Josh and that makes
me
a fathead?”

“I’m not cheating on anyone!” Jaden shouted. “Josh isn’t my boyfriend. He doesn’t even
like
me like that. We’re just friends.”

Josh sighed and covered his face with one hand as he shook his head. Then he heard a sound that made him even sicker.

“There they are!” the woman from the velvet rope shouted. She nudged the security guards who accompanied her. “Those two right there!”