Vic parked behind the near stands on the east side of the diamond, behind 1st base. It wasn't raining now, but the skies were threatening. A group of adults were conferring behind the home plate fence. The teams were warming up with hopeful enthusiasm. Kregg looked at his watch.
"We on the right side?" Vic asked.
Kregg nodded that they were and said, "Take a seat, I'll be right back."
He walked over to the conference, and came back a few minutes later. "They're waiting on the ump. He'sa runnin' late."
The field looked good enough to play on. The coaches had decided to wait 15 minutes, and if the umpire didn't show a backup had been called who only lived a few blocks away. They were anxious to start as soon as possible, before it got rained out. The park's schedule was full already, with many different league's having scheduled playoffs along with end of season make up games.
It had just passed the scheduled start time. The four wandered over to the concession stand.
Vic ordered a coffee. Donny ordered a coffee and popcorn. Kregg got a Mountain Dew and some long, thin, red licorice. As they walked back to their seats, Vic noticed Hugo, in full umpire gear with a chest protector talking to both coaches. Hugo waddled back and explained he'd offered to ump the game and had been told if neither ump showed they'd let him.
"30 bucks," he shrugged.
Despite the weather, both bleachers were more than half full along with a dozen or so other spectators standing and wandering in the vicinity. They sat down in the top row.
"Where's your nephew?" Vic asked.
Kregg pointed towards the parallel lines the "Adolfsen's" players had formed, approximately 40 feet apart throwing baseballs back and forth in the right field grass.
"Are his parent's here? Is it your brother or your sister?"
Kregg stood up and looked around. "Nah. I don't see em."
Vic looked at Kregg very closely for awhile, then down at his watch. "Hunh." It seemed odd to Vic that Kregg seemed so disinterested about where his nephew's parent's where. And that he hadn't seen him greet or mix with any of the other spectators.
The coach waved in the kids in toward their dugout. As they ran past them Kregg yelled, "Yeah! Let's do it!" and started clapping. Vic noted that he didn't call out his nephew's name, but kind of mumbled a few different names he couldn't quite make out. No one on the team, looked in their direction as they jogged in. They looked to be around 10 or 11 years old.
Kregg took a swig of Dew, and slapped Most on the back, who tried to quickly reinforce his coffee with both hands. Some of it spilled out anyway, burning Donny's fingers.
"Chill out, dude."
"Ah, sorry bout that. I'm getting' butterflies," Kregg apologized.
Hugo snickered, enjoying the sight of Most scowling in pain, Kregg's energetic clapping, and Vic, looking at Kregg curiously, a stringy little booger hanging out of his nostril.
He'd given Vic a duplicate basic disguise kit, who in the beginning used it minimally, half-heartedly, and now almost never. Hugo tried to convince him of the importance of not being recognized, and to help him with the tricks of the trade, but Vic's lack of genuine interest and effort offended him and he stopped wasting his time. Vic was careless and thick-headed. Hugo realized this clearly when he chose the first name "Mel" as his alias. But he was amused by him, and ready to see this diversion through to its ill-fated conclusion.
Vic pulled Most aside to have a talk by the water fountain. He told him he wanted to find out more about Kregg, that something didn't seem right. He was going to get some smokes and would be right back.
Vic got in the car, and drove towards town. He found a Huck's convenience store not too far down the road. Before getting out Vic hastily applied a small handlebar mustache. Security cameras made him paranoid.
He went straight for the ATM. After swiping it in and out several times it finally recognized the card. The process took longer than a normal transaction. A series of beeps and what sounded like a phone calling out resulted in a message displaying: Funds not available.
"Fuck!"
Vic looked in his wallet and saw 2 singles. The lady at the counter had her back turned and was kneeling forward. He was the only customer at the moment. He grabbed a 40 ounce Busch Light. While walking down the farthest aisle, out of view of the cameras, he slid it inside the front of his pants, over his shirt and underneath his jacket, without pausing. He approached the counter, sucking his gut in and hunching forward slightly. He rapped on the counter and the lady finally turned around.
"How y'all do..." She covered her mouth and started laughing.
Vic smiled, "Not bad, thanks. I'll take a pack of Kool Light 100's." He wondered what was so funny. The bottle wasn't noticeable, and he wasn't hunched over too far to conceal it, his big jacket covered it up pretty well by itself.
Her hair was short and brown, and she was a little chubby, appearing to be in her mid 40's. She had big teeth, and smacked her gum as she handed him the pack and rang him up. "One seventy-six". She seemed to be trying to keep from laughing, and was staring at him oddly.
In a way, she reminded Vic of Polly Holliday, who played the sassy southern waitress Flo, on "Alice". Not body-wise, but in the face and mannerisms. And accent. No matter what part of the country they lived in, most rural folk had that same hillbilly drawl.
"Err...think it's gonna rain?" Vic asked.
"I hope not, but it sure looks like it."
"Yeah. Thanks."
"Have a...haha...good one!" she said covering her mouth.
Vic forgot about the laughter as he walked back to the car, as if in a daze. Every time he thought he'd gotten over it, he realized he hadn't. He leaned up against the car and lit a smoke.
Polly left the show mid-way through, in 1980. Vic had a passionate affair with her, that lasted around 5 months. She quit the show to start in her own spin-off series shortly thereafter. It started out with a bang, and couldn't have come at a better time for Vic, who's sex life had been nearly non-existent at home. Polly was the first girl he'd met who liked to fuck more than he did. Which was saying a lot! She was 7 years younger than him, but she made him feel 20 years younger than he was. Alive, again.
Vic got in the car and pulled through an alley into the parking lot of a small strip mall that looked deserted. He pulled out the 40 and took a giant swig. Then another bigger one. He wondered what Polly was doing now. As he hit the bottle again, he looked in the rear view mirror and noticed that the top of his mustache was loose and hanging forward.
"Ah geez. No wonder she was crackin' up! Fucking ridiculous." He pulled it off and flipped it on the floor mat. "Cheap shit. He keeps the good stuff for himself." Vic slammed some more down.
He never understood what went wrong between him and Polly. The intensity waned towards the end. They saw each other less often, and then bam, it was over. Vic didn't take it well, which made things worse. She quit talking to him, and left the show without so much as a goodbye. Vic had gone over and over and over it in his head so many times. What he'd done wrong. What the real reason(s) might've been. Polly was not only the ideal type he was attracted to physically, but a seeming kindred spirit he loved being around. It bothered him, daily, for a long time. He wanted more than anything to show Polly that he was his old, boisterous, happy-go-lucky self again. But it was too late.
Vic felt like his mojo had been stolen for a year or two afterwards. A mystery can kill a man. Nevertheless, he always felt (and was told) that the first season without Flo was his best work. The pain caused him to focus more.
As he took another pull from the bottle he was startled by a sharp rap on the window. He turned and saw that it was a cop, looking inside. The rain was coming down lightly now. He took a deep breath and started to roll the window down. As the window opened, the cop seemed to start swaying. Before he'd gotten it all the way down the cop fell over backwards. Vic looked on the pavement at the sprawled figure, hair and sunglasses thrown off, and saw that it was Hugo - cackling like a madman. He threw the door open and leaped out.
"You piece of shit. You nearly gave me a friggin' heart attack!" He threw his smoke down angrily and lunged for Hugo, just missing him, as the Man of 1000 Faces deftly dodged and rolled himself underneath the car.
"Ahahahahahahahaaa!"
Vic crawled towards Hugo. He grabbed the nearly empty 40 ounce and whipped it at him. It missed and hit the rear right tire, skidding and bouncing onto a bush in the lawn area in front of real estate office. Vic was out of breath, panting, on all fours.
"Don't die on me now old man, it was just a joke!"
Vic silently squint stared at Hugo until his breathing slowed down to a normal pace.
"Hahahaha!! I owe you fucker!
They both laughed.
"You looked like you were about to cry when I looked in the window. Before I knocked on it."
"I was just...drinkin' a beer. Let's go!"
The light mist-rain has stopped for the moment as they pulled out. "One of the umps will probably show, but you gotta be there in case."
Hugo nodded.
They got back to the park at 1:20. Donny was standing near the dugout with several players and other kids surrounding him. Kregg was nowhere to be seen. The kids were excited.
"It's Ralph Malph!"
"Mouth, from Happy Days is here!"
"No way!"
Donny looked bemusedly at Vic and shrugged his shoulders. Vic walked right next to him, shrugging his shoulders back at him.
"Ayyyyyyyyyyyy! Sit on it Potsie!"
"Sign my scoresheet!"
"Sign my glove!"
Most looked at the group and put his finger to his lips. "Alright, but no pictures."
Donny made humorous small talk and signed a few autographs. Vic tried to join in. He talked in a loud, booming voice, but they didn't pay much attention or seem to recognize him.
Hugo handed Vic a white naval cap, rolled up on all sides like a cook. Just like the one he wore on Alice. Vic glared at him, swiping it out of his hand and onto his own head. "In case it rains!"
After a few more minutes of the same he grabbed Most by the shoulder.
"They playin this game or what?"
"Yeah. The backup ump came. They're gonna start soon."
"Where's Kregga?"
Donny said goodbye to his fans and motioned Vic back to the bleachers. They sat back down in the same spot. The bleachers were damp now. The field had just been freshly raked.
"I don't know. He went to the bathroom over 10 minutes ago, and never came back."
"I knew it! It wasn't his nephew. It was probably some kid from Bible Camp he was stalkin'!"
"I don't think he knew anyone here. Like, I think it was all bullshit. Maybe he thought we'd be more likely to take him out here."
"What? We we're already giving him a ride. And how did he know about the playoffs then?"
"No clue. But he didn't talk to anyone else. When I tried asking him questions, he'd just change the subject. He talked about being in the Service. About getting scammed by some chick in California, some supposed "millionaire girlfriend" who was gonna send him a Ferrari. It didn't make a lot of sense. When I kept at him he excused himself."
"Jesus. I don't even want to know anymore. Good riddance!"
Finally the players took the field to start the game. It was cooler now, not cold but windy, and the dark, gray clouds overhead were ripe. Vic noticed a black guy sitting by himself in the opposite bleachers. Middle-aged with a muscular build. Bright white teeth.
"That can't be him...in Centralia?"
Vic craned his neck forward, carefully scrutinizing the man.
He looked exactly like O.J. Simpson. Vic hated O.J. with every ounce of his being. Ever since his acquittal he'd been ranting about it. He stomped his foot on the bleacher, startling people.
Most opened his mouth wide. "Oh shit!" He pulled out a pocket organizer, and flipped through it furiously. "Oh fuck!"
"Is it him!?" Vic asked.
"I just remembered I'm supposed to be at this recording studio...in St. Louis....at 3 o'clock!"
"Whaaaat?"
Donny explained that some friends of his had asked him to come up and help out with the sound while they recorded a demo, and they'd let him record a few tracks if he wanted to.
They jogged to the car.
"You got the number?"
"No."
"Know the name of the place."
"I can't read it, but I got the address."
Kregg emerged from the Port-a-John just to see Vic peeling out and heading west.
There was thunder in the distance, but still no rain.
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