Her Own Daughter
An Asian waiter with a dispassionate expression on his face passed by, carrying a tray of
empty glasses and plates. Julie stopped him. “What’s going on?”
The waiter shrugged. “Perez is getting bombed. Someone on the Cardinals just
hit one into the River.” Gilberto Perez was a young star pitcher who’d remained a
bachelor so far.
“Oh, no,’ Maribel said. “We’re going to have to come back.”
“They can do it,” Kaitlyn announced with confidence. “Let’s go check it out for
awhile.” The four of them started for the corner and the seats in the press area, but
Kaitlyn had set her drink down and started for the rear door.
“What are you doing?” Julie asked, with an incredulous tone.
“Let’s go to our field boxes for once,” Kaitlyn said. “In there, it still feels like
you’re watching the game from your living room.”
Their heels click-clacked through the cavernous concourse. When they left the
luxury boxes, they approached the regular gates and plazas. The smells of hot dogs,
mustard and tap beer drifted around them. Two guys who wore jerseys with ripped jeans
and backwards-facing baseball caps approached them “Wow!” one of them said, looking
at Julie. “Supermodels! We must be in Heaven, man!”
Julie strode confidently on, toward the field level corridor. She reached the aisles
first and called back to Suella. “Wow, you’re not going to believe this, Susie. They’re
bringing your hubby in.”
Suella couldn’t believe it. “What? It’s too early! It’s not even dark yet!”
Their seats were in the noisy scout and VIP area. When Suella settled herself in,
she took in the entire field. Her husband, Nathan Worthy, emerged from the bullpen