Archive of Our Own

Bailey almost doesn’t answer the phone when it rings that morning.

It’s her first day off since starting her new job at Liquor Louie’s nearly two full weeks ago, and all she wants is to spend the morning, afternoon and evening sprawled out on her couch and give her aching feet a break. The only reason anyone would be calling her at this time would be to see if she can come in to take a shift, like she did last night, and the night before, covering for a server who was sick, or another who had a boyfriend in town.

But the Reds have a home game tonight, and even though they’re so bad that they probably couldn’t beat the beer league team that Louie’s has put together, and even though some of the regular die-hards are so scummy they make Herb Tarlek look like a knight in shining armor, it means good money for Bailey and the rest of the staff. Those same sleazebags will have their butts parked at the bar from first pitch to the final out, and probably put away a drink per inning.

Her desire to pay rent wins out over her mental and physical exhaustion, and with a sigh, Bailey picks up the phone. When she answers, it’s by reflex, the same way she had during her four years at WKRP: formally, with her first and last name.

“Hello, Bailey Quarters speaking.”

There’s a short laugh on the other end, that she knows who it is before he even says his name, all faux stiff and serious. “Andy Travis speaking.”

Bailey stammers, “A-Andy? Hi!” She can just picture his grin, triumphant at having so successfully surprised her. Were they still at WKRP, she’d just glare at him or pout, but it’s so good to hear his voice again, that she can’t even pretend she’s annoyed. “Gosh, am I glad to hear from you. How’re you doing?”

“Oh, I’m fine, everything’s fine as can be, I guess. Listen, Bailey, I’ll cut to the chase: I was packing up—see, I’m headin’ back to Santa Fe at the end of the month, and I found some Reds tickets I’d forgot I had. For next Friday. Carlson gave ‘em to me, sort of a going-away gift, when I… well, when I left…” There’s a heavy pause, as the levity leaves his tone. “So, I was wonderin’ if you wanted to go with me.”

“You’re leaving…?” Even though Bailey can’t really say she’s shocked—that it was realistic, if not inevitable—hearing it from Andy adds a significant weight. “I… I thought you might’ve caught on somewhere else in town.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I could’ve but I don’t really know if I wanna. I dunno, it’s all up in the air right now, but…”

“The game,” Bailey quickly interjects, embarrassed that she’d brought up such a touchy topic over the phone like this—especially when Andy’s doing something as nice as inviting her out somewhere. “Sorry, when’d you say it was, again?”

She really can’t remember; her mind is still ringing with Andy’s admission of going back to New Mexico.

At least it gets him to laugh again. “Next Friday. Whaddya say, getting together with an old pal and catching up? Maybe seeing a Reds win too, but I can’t make any promises.”

Bailey laughs as well, amused by what in the world there could possibly be to catch up on at this point. “I’d love to!” she answers, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “I mean, I… I have to see if I can get off work, but that’d be great, Andy.”

“Work, huh? Who’s the one catching on somewhere else, now? Moved on to something bigger and better, already?” he teases.

“Oh, knock it off.” She almost tells him about her new job—which is definitely not bigger or better than WKRP— but decides to save it, to have something to talk about at the game. “I’ll let you know by Sunday, okay?”

He gives her his number; she already knows it, has had it memorized for a while now, along with everyone else’s, although she doesn’t know how handy that information will be anymore.

They say their goodbyes, and he hangs up first; Bailey is still too stunned, and it’s only after a few irritating seconds of dial tone that she finally does too.

She takes a step backwards, letting her back come to rest against the refrigerator. Her heart is racing, way more than it should be for a grown woman in her late twenties. She’d felt like this when Andy had first started at WKRP, which she chalked up more to anxiety about proving herself competent than anything about Andy and his presence—his flowy-haired, rolled-up-sleeves presence, that she’d forced herself to tune out, overlook, because the last thing she wanted was to in any manner resemble Herb, all hopeless and desperate and pathetic over a co-worker (and, honestly, in general).

Not just any co-worker, but the man who was essentially her boss.

Except now—or no, not now, but for a few years—he’s been her friend, and friends keep in touch with each other.

Leave it to Andy to take the initiative, like always. What has she done? It’s been barely a month since she—and everyone but Les, Herb, and Mr. Carlson—left WKRP, but it feels like a lifetime ago. In the last four years, she hasn’t gone more than a few days without seeing Andy, or anyone else at the station. Most people looked forward to being away from work on weekends, but Bailey hardly ever did, wanting to be back at WKRP as soon as she left on Friday evenings. And then, eventually, she’d go to a comic shop with Johnny on Saturday, or ask Jennifer to check out an art gallery with her on Sunday.

All of this without a second thought, but now, with everyone having gone their separate ways and most of them trying to adjust to life after WKRP, there hasn’t been much time for reconnecting. This is the first she’s talked to anyone, let alone made plans to hang out.

She’s planning to do everything in her power to have next Friday free. To, like Andy, take initiative. Like any good news reporter should, even if she’s no longer one, or an assistant to one.

Besides, she can’t deny it’ll be nice to call Andy back and give him the good news.

And it’ll be even nicer to see him again.

Bailey’s able to get her shift for Friday night covered, and as she gets ready for the ballgame, she listens to Les’s evening report on WKRP.

“Finishing up with agriculture, the Greater Cincinnati Association of Lah-Lama Ranchers—”

“It’s just llama, Les,” Bailey says to the mirror as she brushes her hair out, then throws it back in a ponytail.

“—failed to reach their goal of five thousand dollars raised for their annual fundraiser, but did comment to this reporter, Les Nessman, that they were within ‘spitting distance.’ This has been Les Nessman, signing off, and…”

“May the good news be yours,” Bailey says quietly; the tagline that Mrs. Carlson had him do away with when the format changed.

“Now a word from our sponsors,” he finishes, unable to mask his disappointment.

Bailey sighs, wondering if Andy is listening too, and how much he’d care, or if he even does. She fixes her baseball cap—an old OSU one that she hasn’t worn in years—upon her head and goes out to the living room to wait.

They’re on their way to Riverfront Stadium, and Andy, wearing one of his numerous Reds t-shirts, had been quick to give Bailey grief about her own shirt: royal blue, it’s emblazoned with a large bright red C, the logo of the Chicago Cubs.

“You know what they say, about ‘when in Rome’ and all that. Although I guess not everyone subscribes to that thought.” Andy glances sidelong at her. “And, c’mon, what baseball fan doesn’t admire the Big Red Machine, just a little?”

“I could take you on down to Wrigley Field and introduce you to several thousand,” Bailey says. “This is the only baseball shirt I have! And I’ve followed the Cubs since I was a kid, I’m not just gonna start cheering for their rivals. And besides, you always said you appreciated my loyalty, so don’t turn around and fault me for it now.”

“I wasn’t talking about the Cubs, Bailey! The Reds aren’t even playing the Cubs, they’re playing the Phillies! There are no Cubs to root for at this game tonight.”

“Well, I don’t have to root for either of them,” Bailey replies defiantly. “Maybe I just want to enjoy the atmosphere of a ballgame and ‘catch up with an old pal’, ever think of that?”

“Oh, I have,” Andy says with a laugh, turning up the volume of the cassette playing the latest Cars album. “I have.”

The scent of salty popcorn and grill smoke surrounds Bailey as she and Andy wind through Riverfront Stadium’s concourse on their way to their seats, each carrying a beer and two greasy hot dogs. She hadn’t thought to even ask where the seats were, figuring they were up in the nosebleeds, but before long they’re halfway up the third base line, ten rows back.

“Am I in Cincinnati or Albuquerque?” Andy comments as they settle in. The stadium’s not exactly packed, especially for a Friday night in June. “I swear, I’ve seen more fans at Dukes games than this. I woulda thought with Pete Rose in town…”

The perennial All-Star was a key piece of the Reds’ success six, seven years ago during their heyday, and had since been traded to the Phillies. But that’s not the part that intrigues Bailey.

“Dukes?” Bailey asks. “Who’re they, some kind of barnstorming team or something?”

“The Albuquerque Dukes are the triple-A affiliate of none other than the Los Angeles Dodgers,” Andy says proudly. Beer in hand, he motions towards the outfield, where some of the players are casually warming up, tossing the ball around or stretching. “You see these guys out here? You think they just, what, spring out of the ground like… like cornstalks or something?”

“Well, that would make for a very interesting farm report.” Bailey can just envision how befuddled Les would be trying to articulate it over the air, and even with how much she misses him, the image causes her to grin. Using a napkin, she picks up her hot dog and bites in.

“What I’m saying, Bailey, is that teams develop their players. In the minors! And the Dukes were a guy’s last stop before he hit it big with the Dodgers.”

“So you’re, in actuality, a Dodgers fan,” Bailey says, with a confident nod for emphasis.

After swallowing a bite of his hot dog, Andy gives a dismissive laugh. “Oh, now, I don’t think I’d go that far. I was like you, more a fan of the experience one could have at a Dukes game. My station, KSFR, would always be giving away tickets, and yours truly might have saved one or two or a dozen for himself. Let’s just say most girls didn’t turn down a date to a Dukes game, not with the seats our tickets were for.”

“What, were they behind home plate or something?”

“Nope. See, Sports Stadium had a—”

“Sports Stadium,” Bailey repeats, disbelieving. “The Dukes play at a place called Sports Stadium?”

“Yeah, Albuquerque Sports Stadium, that’s what it’s called!” Andy says as Bailey rolls her eyes. “Hey now, I didn’t come up with the name, but listen: they had a nice little attribute that I’m pret-ty sure not a single other stadium does.”

He pauses, for what she assumes must be dramatic effect, raising his eyebrows.

“Come on, Travis, I’m on the edge of my seat.” Bailey scooches forward—to the edge of her seat—so she can retrieve her beer and take a long gulp.

“A drive-in.”

“Like the movies? Like you pull your car up and watch the game?”

“You got it. The stadium was built in… in like kind of a basin sort of area, so overlooking right field, there was this spot fans could park, and watch the game from their cars. Well…” Andy laughs, averting his gaze from Bailey in a failed attempt to come off all sheepish and innocent. “They could do other things too, I suppose.”

Bailey’s first (and utterly childish and petty) thought is to ask if Andy ever took Linda Taylor to the drive-in at a Dukes game. But she’s not who she was back then, and doesn’t find herself getting so easily jealous, at least over a guy.

Andy’s confidence no longer intimidates her; it spurs her to show off her own. “Then if I’m ever in town and want to take in a Dukes game…” She tilts to the side slightly, towards Andy, peering at him like she has something secret to tell him.

“...Yeah?” he asks as he, too, leans a bit closer.

Bailey waits a few seconds, watching both teams’ pitchers cross the green field to their respective bullpens as the stadium PA announcer starts to rattle off the ground rules of the ballpark.

Then she sits back up straight, turning her attention away from Andy and to the distant Reds dugout, acting as if she’s trying to recognize a few of the players emerging from it. She points to a tall, reasonably fit player, with absolutely no clue as to who it is. “Oh, wow, is that Johnny Bench? I can’t believe it, one of the greatest catchers of our era!”

The mystery man makes his way to third base, and starts lazily tossing the ball around with one of his teammates. Andy, discomforted by Bailey’s sudden and very obvious switch in topic, looks to the ballplayer, then back at her. He smiles, and Bailey can’t figure out why until he says, “As a matter of fact, Bailey, it is! Good eye!”

“Oh. Well, I knew that,” Bailey huffs.

“Should I holler for him to come on over? Maybe he can sign your Cubs shirt.”

She’s thankfully saved from having to respond by the announcement of the National Anthem singer, and for all in attendance to please rise.

This isn’t the kind of hardball she was expecting tonight.

Bailey’s glad she’s not a Reds fan, because through the first three innings, the game is—and she doesn’t like to think this about anything—absurdly boring. The most excitement is when the Reds get runners on the corners with one out, but their hopes are swiftly dashed by the next two batters striking out.

Andy’s comment on the meager attendance hadn’t been much of an exaggeration; the only other people in their row are several seats down. He and Bailey move to the aisle seats, separating themselves even more. No one is behind them, and other than a guy and his kid three rows ahead, they’re essentially alone.

Which Bailey is all too aware of, as it creates enough privacy for her to feel comfortable in asking what’s been on the top of her mind ever since Andy’s phone call last week.

“So when you said you’re heading back to Santa Fe soon…” She crumples up her second hot dog wrapper and stuffs it into her empty beer cup. “How soon is… soon?”

“End of the month. Which makes that the end of the week,” Andy says. “I’m pretty packed up, just gotta try and keep the place tidy ‘til then. Not gonna be able to do much the next few days, you know? This might be my last night out, actually.”

“Yeah, and Cincinnati’s a whole lot safer now that a wild party animal like you’s gonna be off its streets.”

“Hey, I only said might! If I can get ahold of Venus, I wanna invite him to have drinks together at a distinguished gentleman’s club.”

“Does this ‘distinguished’ club also have ‘distinguished’ topless dancers?” Bailey asks at a low volume.

“Now, Bailey, what kind of guy would I be if I didn’t do my part to help a hard-working modern girl earn her living?”

A chorus of cheers erupts around them; Bailey looks up to see one of the Reds outfielders picking himself up off the grass, His teammate trots over and rewards him with an enthusiastic swat on the shoulder as they head back to the dugout.

“Now see what you made me miss, Andy? A real heck of a play!”

“Hey, that’s on you; I was watching the whole time. I’m not as easily distracted as you are.” He nudges her arm with his. “And speaking of the working woman, what’s this new gig you’ve got?”

Oh geez, not this. It embarrasses Bailey, the sharp downgrade she’s taken since leaving WKRP, and for as much as used to want to impress Andy, it feels more natural—it feels better—to just be straight with him. So she tells him, about her position as server, or bartender, or whatever’s needed, at Louie’s, and how she’d heard about it from one of the waitresses at Snooky’s when she’d gone there to drown her sorrows after leaving WKRP.

“It feels like I’m at OSU again,” Bailey laments. “The long hours, coming home exhausted and smelling like beer and cooking oil. And a lot of the other girls there… they are college students, and this is a summer job. And then there’s me…”

“Leading the way,” Andy fills in.

“I don’t know about that.” Bailey knows he’s just trying to cheer her up, and it’s working… a little. Maybe it’s just because it’s Andy, and she has a tough time feeling down around him. “But I keep thinking, how I don’t want to stay there long-term, but what if I do? What if a few weeks becomes a few months, and that becomes years?”

“Well, I guess it depends if you’re happy or not—and if you’re able to pay rent. That’s why I’m going back to Santa Fe, because I can pay rent there. I have it all lined up at my old place, and that severance pay from WKRP’ll keep me afloat for a few months while I figure it all out.”

“What about the ‘happy’ part?”

Andy’s silent for a handful of seconds, watching as the Phillies take the field. Then, solemn as he’s been all night, he looks at Bailey.

“I won’t kid you, Bailey— I don’t know if I’ll ever be as happy anywhere as I am here…” Her eyes widening must broadcast her surprise, because he quickly clarifies, “Er, in Cincinnati, I mean… at the station, and… you know, just… here. Now, I’ve been in this business long enough to know better than to think what we had there would last forever, but that doesn’t mean that, after a while, I didn’t want it to. And that’s why I don’t know if I can go back to corporate radio, after this.”

Bailey knows exactly what he means—how she’s not so sure she wants to stick to radio journalism, or even journalism at all, despite her degree. Still, thinking that far ahead makes her head hurt; she wants to enjoy tonight, and worry about the rest of her life some other time. But since it’d come up only a little while ago, she can’t help but put in her two cents about what Andy should do—although she keeps her tone light, in case she’s way off track with this suggestion.

“Why don’t you work for the Dukes or something—you were in sales in radio, why not go into sales for them?”

“Honestly? That’s not a bad idea. You know, some of these minor league teams—it can be like a carnival, with the promotions they do, which I guess isn’t too different than the zoo WKRP was, sometimes. My main thought had been looking into public radio, but you might be on to something. I’ll check it out when I get back.”

Dave Concepcion comes up to bat for the Reds, and manages to work a walk after being down in the count 0-2. Next up is Larry Biitner, who Bailey remembers playing for the Cubs several years ago, when she was still in college. He ends up grounding into a double play, quashing any hopes of a rally. In the seats ahead of them, Bailey overhears the boy loudly tell the man he’s with that they should call this team the Big Dead Machine with how lousy they’re playing tonight. Andy must hear him too, because he slides Bailey an amused glance, and they both have to stifle a laugh.

“Do you think you’ll ever come back here?” Bailey asks. “To Cincinnati? At least to visit, I mean.”

“I dunno, it’s quite a hike. Maybe if the Reds decide to put a team together worth coming to see, I could be persuaded.”

“You would not travel all the way back here just to see the Reds.”

“I might. Depends if there’s anyone who’d wanna come to the game with me.”

For a split-second, Bailey imagines everyone from WKRP reuniting for a Reds game here at Riverfront Stadium—and how fun it’d be. Probably an absolute headache for whoever’s trying to arrange it (Andy, most likely), but undeniably fun.

The Phillies get a runner on base, and their star third baseman, Mike Schmidt, steps into the batter’s box. He earns a few more cheers than most opposing players do in Cincinnati, likely owed to the fact that he’s originally from Dayton. Bailey learned this from Les, who, despite all his lack of sports trivia knowledge, happens to be not only well aware of this, but is quite proud of as a fellow Daytonian.

What Bailey also knows about Schmidt is that he’s one of the most feared hitters in all of baseball. And with one swing of the bat, he proves why.

With a resounding crack, the ball rockets deep to left-center field and into the seats. It’s not even close. Just like that, the Phillies are up 2-0.

The kid sitting three rows ahead of Andy and Bailey gets to his feet and starts jeering. “Boooooooo! Go back to Philly, you jerk!”

Andy leans forward, and despite the kid still being too busy voicing his displeasure to notice, says to him, “Yeah, that’s right, you tell that clown!”

“Andy, stop.” Bailey half-heartedly tries to pull him back, but can’t keep from laughing.

The kid turns and shoots them a grin, settling into his seat as the Bengals-capped man beside him takes the kid’s battered ballcap off momentarily to affectionately tousle his straw-colored hair.

Andy eyes her, with that up-to-something look Venus and him would often share, and Bailey puts her hands up as a preemptive shield against her own hair being ruffled. “Hey, don’t even think about it, buddy.”

Not that his fingers in my hair would be the worst thing… Whoa, okay, Quarters, pump the brakes.

Laughing at her instant defensiveness, Andy doesn’t take it any further. His focus returns to the field as the next batter is announced, but Bailey’s catches on to the kid in front of them. He’s peeking back over his shoulder at Andy and Bailey, and when he sees that she’s noticed, quickly whips his attention back to the game.

The game remaining completely uneventful, still 2-0 Phillies into the sixth, is a blessing in disguise. It opens the opportunity for her and Andy to trade stories about games they’ve attended in the past—Bailey at Wrigley Field and occasionally at Comiskey, seeing the Cubs and White Sox, and Andy all around the southwest. Not just the Dukes, but other minor league teams and spring training in New Mexico and Arizona. It makes Bailey yearn for those simpler times, when the euphoria from an exciting game with family or friends lasted through the day, into the evening, without the dread of knowing there was work the next day or bills due soon.

It would’ve been fun, she thinks, if she’d led the sports report when she was at WKRP, since it was hardly Les’s forte, but getting the chance to help with the news at all had been tough enough. Maybe if she ever goes back to radio, or journalism, it’s something worth pursuing—Andy would give her an excellent recommendation. But then again, being a spectator, enjoying the game for what it is and not having to worry about drafting up some kind of piece on it…

Although, who is she kidding? She wouldn’t be enjoying this half as much without Andy here. And she gets the feeling he knows that, because it’s glaringly obvious he’s like her in this regard—that ballgames, or the concerts or meet-and-greets they were able to attend while at WKRP, were fun because of who they were with, not because of the grandeur of it all.

Years from now she’s not going to remember the score, or maybe not even if the Reds win or lose, and she hopes it’s not too naive to want it to be the same for Andy. Something he’ll look back fondly on, his last few days in Cincinnati nearly as memorable as his first four years.

“So you ever think about putting that Cubs shirt to good use and wearing it to Wrigley?” Andy asks in response to her tale about seeing the Cubs win in fifteen innings the day before she trekked all the way to Columbus to move in at OSU. “You know, going back to Chicago?”

“You mean for the Cubs game, or for good?”

“Either.”

“I don’t know,” she says—and she hates saying that out loud, especially to someone like Andy who always seems so sure of himself. “I haven’t ruled it out, but Cincinnati was really starting to feel like home. And I really think it is, I do. But… well, you know?”

He does know. “That it’s not gonna be the same,” Andy replies, because he does know, and his tone is light but his smile doesn’t quite match.

“Yeah, exactly. That’s why going back to Chicago isn’t as easy for me as it is for you to go back to New Mexico.”

“Hey, it’s not easy.”

“Coulda fooled me. You’re making it seem like it is.” You make everything seem easy, she mentally adds.

“Ah, come on, there’s no use in flattering me anymore.” Even though he hardly sounds like he has a problem with it.

“I’m not! I’m just saying, I feel dumb letting it affect me like this. It’s been almost two months, and I still can’t believe it sometimes, that we all got let go like that. I really thought it’d never change, that I’d be like Mr. Carlson or Les, and just… be there forever. That we all would.”

Bailey slouches down in her seat, crossing her arms. It’s the opposite of the smattering of fans in the stadium attempting to get The Wave started in hopes of rallying the Reds.

“Oh, well, now, I wouldn’t call that dumb. I think we all thought that after a while. Even Fever, and even me. If you’re dumb, then, I guess we all must be too. Maybe that’s why we all got along so well.”

“Now you come on, Andy. You know what I mean.” She sighs, not even knowing what she wants from him. Comfort, or agreement, or what? Just that he’s hearing her out—that he’s always been willing to—already means the world to Bailey. “You’ve been taking it all in stride, like you’re used to it, or at least expected it. You know, you have these fallback plans all in place, looking to the future already, and here I am slinging beer. Really putting that degree to use, huh?”

“It comes with the territory, Bailey. I’m not sayin’ don’t be upset but… hey, look at Venus, and Fever. Look at where they all’ve been before they landed at WKRP. We can’t all be Les Nessman, you know.”

“Good, I don’t know if Ohio can handle more than one of him,” Bailey says with a forced chuckle. “But seriously, how do you get used to it? Going from job to job and not ever feeling like it’s gonna really last? I don’t know if I could do that.”

“Oh, I don’t. That’s exactly why I’m headin’ home for a few months, because I know I’m lucky enough that I can. I did it before I came to Cincinnati, you know. Carol hated it then, and she’ll probably hate it now, too, after a couple weeks. Trust me, if I could afford to stay here and go to Reds games with you every night while I figure this out, I would.”

Bailey’s listless attention leaves the game and moves to Andy. He’s smiling in that pressed-lip knowing way he’s constantly had with her, waiting for the reaction he’s sure he’s gonna get. She decides to play into it a little, letting the tiny fizzle in her heart continue to spark. What’s the harm in it, if he’s leaving soon, anyway?

“You say that now, but you’d change your mind if they were playing the Cubs. You’d see a whole different side of me, Travis—not sure if you’d be ready for it.”

“How long has this Cubs fanatic side of yours been around, anyway? You never really mentioned them when we were at WKRP.”

“Not around you,” Bailey says. “I brought it up once in front of Jennifer, when they beat the Reds… if you think she gives Herb death glares, you should’ve seen how she looked at me. She was at that game—and the loss completely ruined her date.”

“As much as any date with Jennifer can possibly be ruined,” Andy points out.

“True,” Bailey agrees. “But, lesson learned there. I even tried to get her to admit to liking anyone who was on the Cubs—you know, like how I could be honest that I thought Johnny Bench was pretty neat. But she wouldn’t budge, not even Ron Santo or my favorite player growing up, Ernie Banks!”

“There’s your first mistake, trying to get Jennifer to change her mind on anything.”

“But Ernie Banks, Andy!” Bailey laments. “Mr. Cub! And probably the nicest guy ever!”

“Of course he’s your favorite,” Andy says, looking far too amused. "The nicest guy ever."

“Ernie Banks?” The kid in front of them, who Andy had goaded on earlier, turns around. “Wow, he played like, forever ago!”

“Forever?” Bailey repeats, not hiding her offense. Andy laughs through his nose.

“Josh,” says the guy in the Bengals cap beside him. “Watch the game.”

But Josh doesn’t. He’s still beaming at Bailey and Andy. One of his front teeth is missing, and he’s wearing a cap sporting a logo Bailey doesn’t recognize. He looks every bit the textbook child baseball fan, brimming with an optimism that years of letdowns and almosts have yet to taint. Then again, that’s only Bailey’s experience as a Cubs fan. This kid’s probably at the exact age where some of his first memories are that of the Reds’ World Series-winning days.

“Don’t worry about it,” Andy tells the man, which perks Josh up even more, and is all the opening he needs.

“Betcha can’t guess my favorite player,” he says eagerly. It’s quite obvious that he doesn’t think Andy and Bailey can guess.

“Hopefully not anyone on the White Sox,” Bailey retorts. She doesn’t care that much about the other Chicago team but this Josh kid seems like a big baseball fan—she figures he’ll appreciate the mention of the rivalry.

And he does, wrinkling his nose. “Ew, no way!”

“Bet it’s not someone on the Phillies either,” Andy says. Given the way Josh was heckling them earlier, that’s a safe assumption. “Come on, kid, don’t leave us in suspense: spill it.”

“Well, actually, I dunno.” Scratching at his head over his hat, Josh thinks about it for a few seconds. “I like so many… but probably Lance Parrish.”

“He’s the catcher on the Tigers,” Andy says out loud, both to impress Josh and inform Bailey.

“Yeah!” Josh confirms.

“Is he any good?” Bailey asks.

“Good?" Josh repeats. "He’s an all-star!”

“He couldn’t hold Johnny Bench’s jock,” Andy mumbles out the side of his mouth, towards Bailey.

“Andy!” Bailey hisses, and gives him a backhand smack to the chest.

Josh, not having heard the slander against Parrish clearly, blinks. It’s evident though, that whatever Andy said was not exactly complimentary, and he lifts his chin in defiance. “Who’s your favorite, Mister?”

“Yeah, Mister,” Bailey echoes.

“Mine? Oh, well I don’t know if I ever had a favorite. And definitely none that I thought were the ‘nicest guy ever.’” He glances over at Bailey. “But I guess the first that comes to mind is Orlando Cepeda from the Giants, I always thought he was pretty exciting, he could do a little bit of everything.”

“The Giants?” Bailey exclaims, aghast. Andy might as well have admitted to listening to WPIG during his tenure at WKRP! “What happened to the Dodgers, and the Dukes?”

That must’ve been why he’d been so non-committal about claiming the Dodgers were his favorite team, earlier.

“Wow, some fan you are,” Josh comments.

“Hey, now, listen here,” Andy starts, frowning at Josh. “I’ll have you know that—”

But Bailey’s not done. “Even I know you just don’t jump ship from the Giants to the Dodgers. What does that say about you!”

“I’m talking about their minor league teams, Bailey! It’s not the same thing!”

“Well, they played against each other, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“So it’s like the Giants and Dodgers playing each other.”

“I… well, no, not exactly, but—”

“So you’re a… a traitor, Andy Travis! A turncoat! To think I looked up to a guy like you.” She puts on an exaggerated sulky expression.

The Bengals-capped man with Josh joins the conversation, turning to address Bailey. “You wanna come down and sit with me and my nephew, hon? Leave this bandwagoner behind?”

And he doesn’t sound slimy or anything, and Bailey can’t imagine that this kid’s uncle would be openly flirting at a ballgame in front of him.

Looking to Andy, she gives an exaggerated shrug. “That doesn’t sound so bad, actually.”

Bailey starts to stand up, but Andy quickly puts a hand on her leg to keep her seated. “Now hold on a minute! This turncoat or bandwagoner or whatever you wanna call me got her a free ticket, thank you very much,” he says to Bengals Cap. With his other hand he picks up Bailey’s empty beer cup, with the wadded-up hot dog wrappers stuffed inside, and shows it off. “And a first-class meal.”

“And a second beer too,” Bailey adds.

“Let’s not get carried away.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bengals Cap says to Bailey, “I’ll get you that second beer if your date here doesn’t.”

“He’s not my—” She looks over at Andy, who is fighting back laughter, hand to his mouth. “What’s so funny?!”

“Oh, nothing at all. Go on and sit with him,” Andy says with faux-resignation, patting Bailey’s leg. “And I’ll get you that second beer.”

“Hey, you can join too when you get back, pal,” Bengals Cap says. “The more the merrier. Even Giants fans.”

“No!” Josh protests.

Finally, Andy’s hand falls away as he stands and heads off to the concessions. Bailey moves down to sit with Josh and his uncle, but the weight and warmth of Andy’s hand on her leg stays with her.

Bailey’s Cubs shirt combined with the fact that she’s spoken about them so passionately leaves no question that she’s been to Cubs games before, so Bengals Cap, who introduces himself as Russ, asks her if she’s been here to Riverfront Stadium to see them take on the Reds.

“This is my first game here,” Bailey admits. “I just haven’t had much time to go the last few years. But I’ve been to a bunch of concerts!… Perks of my old job.”

“Lucky gal,” Russ says. “I’ve got one of those ticket packages, they let you pick and choose a couple games a month. This here’s the first one I’ve taken Josh to.”

“But I’ve been to a billion Mud Hens games!” Josh offers Bailey a peanut from the near-empty bag of his. The concrete floor around his seat is littered with a hoard of peanut shells. “I even tried out to be their bat boy last year!”

Mud Hen? Bailey wonders. Sounds like something Les would mention in his hog reports.

“Toledo. Tigers farm team,” Russ explains, when he sees Bailey’s confusion. “Josh is spendin’ the summer with me here while his parents take care of his grandma.”

A bittersweet reason, but Bailey is charmed by the boy’s optimism. He’s clearly old enough that he can’t be completely ignorant to the circumstances surrounding his visit, so seeing him in good spirits is a plus. Bailey decides to indulge him in what’s clearly something he has a passion for.

“So you’re another minor league fan, is that right?”

“Yeah, just like that guy you’re with, huh?” Josh asks. “I heard you talkin’ about ‘em earlier, the Dukes.”

The drive-in immediately comes to mind. Geez, I hope he didn’t hear everything. “Oh, yeah. Have they ever played the Mud Hens?”

“Uh, no, they’re in completely different leagues,” Josh says. “Didn’t your boyfriend tell you that part?”

Bailey has to defend herself, and does her best to laugh it off. “Oh, that guy is not my boyfriend.”

“Why, because you’re a Cubs fan?” Josh asks. “I wouldn’t be your boyfriend either.”

“Hey!” Russ gives his nephew a light smack upside the head. “What’d I tell you about not buggin’ this lady? Quit being a smart aleck.”

Bailey’s face suddenly feels warm and she hopes the shadow of her cap bill hides if her cheeks have reddened any.

“No, hold on—I think this is the perfect chance to sell me on the Mud Hens,” she tells Josh. “Andy’s talked up the Dukes so much, I think you should give me the rundown on what makes the Mud Hens better.”

By the way he grins, she can already sense Josh has as many stories to tell about Mud Hens games as she does about WKRP. Yeah, yeah, she’s instantly become a sap for this kid who, albeit nosey, isn’t in the greatest situation. And she probably won’t know half of what he’s talking about, but getting a smile out of him is a reward in itself.

She’s so absorbed in Russ and Josh’s baseball anecdotes that she doesn’t even realize it’s the seventh-inning stretch until the organ starts up, and the three of them quickly get to their feet. Josh is practically shouting as “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” plays on, especially so at the “buy me some peanuts and Cracker-jacks” line.

“And it’s one, two—!”

An arm comes around her shoulder, pulls her in, as Andy’s voice joins hers for the song’s final line.

“—three strikes you’re out, at the oldddd balll-game.”

“About time!” Bailey exclaims as the new Phillies pitcher warms up for the top of the eighth. The Reds are still without a run, but at least Bailey is now in possession of her second free beer.

“Here ya go, sport.” Andy hands Josh a box of Cracker-jacks. “Not too bad for a traitor like me, huh? Goes with all those peanuts, right?”

Josh gives Andy a skeptical look that can be read as Okay weirdo, but he rips open the box and digs in. He’s still turned to face Bailey as he chows down on his first handful of the caramel-coated snack.

“Hey, didja know that song’s actually about a lady fan?” he asks through munching. “Right, Uncle Russ?”

“Huh, wha…? Oh, yeah, sure.” Russ is clearly more occupied by the game itself—perhaps one of the few fans in attendance who still is, as the Reds send their centerfielder, Cesar Cedeño, to the plate for the bottom of the seventh.

“Yeah! That’s how it starts.” With bits of Cracker-jack spittling out of his mouth, he sings, “’Katie Casey was baseball mad, had the fever and had it bad.’”

“Too bad we’re not still at WKRP, we could hire this kid as the sports reporter,” Andy remarks to Bailey, meaning for Josh to hear it this time. He does, and is smiling as he shovels in another handful of Cracker-jack.

“How ‘bout the rest?” Bailey asks.

Josh hastily swallows so he can reply. “Uh, I forget the next words but then it’s about her ditching her boyfriend so she can go to the game. ‘On a Saturday her young beau, called to see if she’d like to go, to see a show but Miss Kate said no!’”

“Gee, what a timeless story: men not knowing what women truly want.” Bailey does her best to suppress a laugh, letting her gaze slide to Andy momentarily, only to find out his are on her. Quickly, to cover her growing smile, she takes a drink of her beer.

The sharp crack of the bat and subsequent roar of the crowd jars their attention to the field. The few people remaining in their section jump to their feet, and Bailey, Andy, Russ and Josh follow suit, with Josh throwing down his box of Cracker-jacks. Bailey has just enough time to pinpoint the foul ball sailing in their direction, and shove her beer off on Andy before making a break for it.

Josh is shouting, “I got it, I got it!” as he darts down the vacant aisle.

He doesn’t “got it”. He lunges for the ball as it lands in front of him, but misses, and it bounces up to the row behind him, where Bailey is just catching up. She blindly stretches and swipes an arm out as the ball continues its downward arc, and amazingly succeeds in batting it down, where it rolls away to the row below. Without thinking twice, Bailey drops to her knees, the sticky, rough concrete grating like sandpaper against her skin. Reaching down, she plucks the ball up from under the seat in front of her, just before Josh is able to discern where it disappeared to.

Her fingers close around it. She’s got it! She lets out a shriek of delight, which prompts Josh to whirl, face her. His confusion splits into a grin when he sees her proudly holding the ball.

“Bailey! Hey, are you okay?”

She hears Andy, but doesn’t sense that he’s right behind her until it’s too late. Until she, all in one motion, turns and stands up, and crashes directly into him, chest to chest. Though she doesn’t drop the ball, Andy drops his beer to keep her from stumbling, and a malty cascade drenches the front of Bailey’s shirt.

She can just hear Herb’s smarmy proclamation of Wet t-shirt contest! That’s the right idea!

Thankfully the shirt is dark enough that there’s no real damage done—other than that it now reeks of beer.

They’re both frozen in shock. Bailey can count on one hand the number of times Andy Travis has been left speechless, and although a few of those have been her doing, it certainly wasn’t like this.

“Wow!” Josh, none the wiser to the awkwardness between Bailey and Andy, scrambles up over the seat, interrupting what feels like an interminably long second of silence between them. “Lemme see, lemme see!”

He takes the ball from Bailey; she lets him.

“Josh, for crying out loud.” Russ is over, with a couple napkins, that he passes to Andy and Bailey. “You two okay?”

“I’m fine,” Andy finally splutters out, wiping his hands off.

“Me too,” Bailey says quickly, a reflex, even though she honestly doesn’t know the answer to that question. She’s still stunned that she’s caught an actual foul ball from a Major League Baseball game.

Josh, seemingly oblivious to Bailey’s discomfort, grins up at her. “In all the Mud Hens games I’ve been to, I’ve never gotten a foul ball! This is so cool!”

“Oh, well. You can have it,” Bailey says, sheepishly, doing her best to mop up with the flimsy napkins. “It’s your first Reds game and all.”

“Hey, no way,” Russ cuts in. “It’s yours, fair and square. You caught up.”

“I mean, I didn’t actually catch it, but—”

“The Reds should sign you!” Josh says excitedly. “You tried harder than they have all night!”

“Actually, Andy and I do have some experience playing ball.” She elbows him playfully. “We even took on the reigning champs of our softball league. Didn’t we, Andy?”

“Ah, c’mon, Bailey, they don’t wanna hear about that.”

“Why not?” Russ says. “It’s gotta be more exciting than this Reds game.” He motions to the field, where the Phillies pitcher delivers, and whoever is up for the Reds (Bailey, for good reason, hasn’t been paying attention) swings and misses. “Say, I’ll go get some more napkins for ya, then you can tell us all about it.”

As Russ ambles away, and Josh immediately starts repeating the at-bat that sent the foul ball their way, as if none of them had been there, Bailey settles back into her seat and sends Andy a grin. Though he’s professed to not wanting to relive all this, his expression says otherwise—that while perhaps it's a distant memory now, it’s a darn good one.

After Andy and Bailey tell Russ and Josh all about facing WPIG, and the comeback they mounted, the Reds put together something resembling their own in the bottom of the ninth. With a runner on second, the tying run comes to the plate in the form of Johnny Bench, whose surefire Hall-of-Fame career is winding to its end. But Bench hits a routine ground ball to the shortstop and is thrown out to end the game. The final score is what it was after Schmidt’s home run: Phillies 2, Reds 0. All in all, a lackluster game on both ends.

Bailey is surely the most thrilled among the spittle of exits fans, clutching the foul ball tight with both hands as she and Andy head to the gates of Riverfront Stadium. Even with the sparse crowd hardly pushing or pulling them any which-way, Andy slings his arm over her shoulder to keep them from getting separated or, that’s his coy little response when she glances over at him with a questioning look. Russ and Josh are alongside them, with Josh, for the fifth time, recounting just how close he was to getting the foul ball instead of Bailey.

“Hey, Bailey!” he says to her once they’re outside the stadium, “Why don’tcha come to a Redbirds game with me and Uncle Russ sometime? They play down in Louisville, you know, where the Louisville Slugger factory is!”

If Bailey didn’t know any better, she’d say this kid who, not long ago had snubbed her over being a Cubs fan, has developed something like a crush.

“What, um… you mean the Cardinals?”

“Noooooo,” Josh replies impatiently. “They’re the Cardinals Triple-A team, they just moved here from Springfield, and—”

“That would be fun,” Bailey says, which is true, although she’s certainly not going to make any sort of commitment.

“I guess you can come too, Andy.”

Russ gives Bailey an apologetic look, then speaks to his nephew. “We’ll see, Josh.”

Bailey had long ago learned that one of the first rules of being an intrepid reporter was always carrying a pen or some kind of writing utensil on your person. From the small purse she brought along, she pulls one out, though the only thing she has to write on is a page of the scorecard Russ had been using for most of the game. She writes down her number, and, tearing off a corner of the scorecard, Russ jots down his.

“How ‘bout yours, chief?” he asks Andy.

“Oh, I’m probably gonna be changing mine in a matter of weeks. But you all have fun.” He looks at Josh. “Who knows, maybe you’ll see the next Lance Parrish there in Louisville.”

As they say their goodbyes and part ways, Bailey thinks on how worried she’d been the last couple months, about making friends on her own after WKRP. Maybe this is a start; at the least, it’s more organic and promising than anything she’s managed with her co-workers at Louie’s.

“Go Mud Hens!” Bailey turns and calls across the parking lot, pumping her fist in the air.

Josh waves at her. She can tell, even at this distance, that he’s grinning.

Beside her, Andy just shakes his head, but she’s able to catch how pleased he looks, which feels even better than having caught the foul ball.

On the way home, Andy switches out The Cars cassette for Blondie’s Parallel Lines. So many of their songs are ones Bailey was first introduced to while at WKRP, and she wonders if Andy, too, is reminded of hearing them there. Maybe he is, and it just doesn’t affect him as deeply.

The traffic is fairly light for late on a Friday night. Bailey reminds Andy of her way back to her apartment, and they’re soon on the highway.

This, Bailey thinks, would be the perfect opportunity to talk about everything that felt too personal to bring up at the game, that they’d only hedged around.

Apparently Andy thinks so too, because he draws first. “So’ve you kept up with anyone else from WKRP, or am I your one and only?”

“I called Jennifer the other day,” Bailey answers, omitting that it was Andy’s invitation to the game that gave her the push to do so. “We’re gonna try to get lunch sometime soon— you know, provided that I don’t have work and she doesn’t have a date. Which is a lot to ask for, isn’t it?”

“Ah, but you gals’ll make it work, somehow. You always did.” That encouraging tone again, his natural tone, that she’s missed so much. “But actually, I was wondering about you and—”

“What about you?” Bailey interrupts, knowing what —or rather, who, Andy’s going to ask about. “I’m sure nothing’s changed with you and Venus, huh?”

“Oh yeah, he helped me pack everything up—not that that took too long. He said he’d even come visit me in New Mexico sometime but I’m thinkin’ it’s more that he wants to visit me and Carol.” Andy does his best to sound light about it, but Bailey can make out the underlying protectiveness he has towards his little sister.

“So I take it you’re not gonna tell him about the drive-in at the Dukes games,” she jokes.

“No, I definitely am not,” he says.  A long pause, then, “But, Bailey… you and Fever.”

He’s not asking, but hell if everything between her and Johnny hadn’t had more questions than answers. With anyone else, she’d be hesitant to discuss it, but Andy’s one of the few people she can be forthcoming about it with. He gets Johnny, as much as anyone ever really could.

“Oh, I haven’t seen Johnny since we all…” Her hands, pressed together, split apart. “I’ve just been so busy with this new job, and looking for a different one, and… well, he has a lot going on too, I’m sure. You know, in his… world.”

“Johnny isn’t just in his own world, Bailey; he’s in his own universe,” Andy says with a laugh.

“Oh, you’re tellin’ me. See, I like Johnny, I really do… I always have. And I worry about him. I just… I don’t wanna come on too strong, like I’m trying to baby him or anything, because I know he can look out for himself when it comes down to it. It’s only, sometimes he can be a little…” she trails off, trying to select the right word. “A little...”

“Demented?” Andy supplies, the most affectionate Bailey’s ever heard the word said.

“I was gonna say chaotic, but…”

“Here I thought that was the number one draw for you—his chaoticness. It’s why we all love him.”

“It is—and I definitely welcomed it when I had some stability to balance it all out, but I don’t have that right now, Andy. Like I said, my work schedule’s all over the place, and I never get a good night’s sleep because of it, and forget having any kind of social life. Heck, the game tonight was the first thing I actually planned to do with anyone since I left WKRP.” Bailey sighs, and slouches further down in the passenger seat, looking up at the taupe ceiling of Andy’s sedan instead of at him. “I do wanna see Johnny again.”

“Ah,” Andy says in a tone that tells Bailey what she meant and how he’s taken it aren’t matching up.

“But I wanna see everyone again!” she assures him. “Didn’t we go through all this last year, when the whole station thought me and him were… involved?”

“I know, I know,” Andy says, putting out a hand to indicate she should keep calm. “But that was last year, and things are a lot different this year. And the whole reason I’m asking… Bailey, I don’t want to encroach, if you and him are already… something.”

“How would you be encroaching, what does that mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.”

He’s right; she does. Johnny’s attracted to her, just as he is to Jennifer. There had been a time where the idea of dating him had seriously appealed to Bailey, but eventually she’d come to realize that it was asking too much, of either of them—and that what they had, already, as friends, was fantastic. He was fun and trustworthy, with such a big heart, even if he played it off like he was too cool. And he was smart in ways she wasn’t, like with life experience and just handling different types of people—and with sticking to his guns.

Of course, Andy was too. Still is, and part of Bailey feels like she’s being fickle and immature for—okay, she’ll admit it—having thought about, and still thinking about, what it’d be like to go out with him. She’d buried the whole idea so deep after the whole incident with Linda, convinced that it would go away in time.

And honestly, it had.

But tonight—right now, in this moment, it’s resurfaced. And she could kick herself for letting it happen at the worst possible timing, with Andy set to move in a week.

“Okay, okay, yeah, I do. But we’re not together, I swear. I don’t think we ever really were. We had some fun, and looking back, I’m glad it didn’t get more serious. Johnny’s not relationship material, which… that’s fine; I don’t think he’s interested in being that, and I wouldn’t make him. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think I was really looking for a relationship then, either. It was just nice to… to have some attention.”

“Attention, huh?” Andy’s pulling up on to Bailey’s street. “You make it sound so shallow. And trust me, I know shallow—and you aren’t, just like you aren’t dumb.”

“No, but…” Bailey starts, knowing she’s reverting back to her shy, new hire self. And she will not let that happen, so she takes a deep breath, telling Andy with all the confidence she can muster. “I could be, you know! If the situation called for it, I could be as simple and shallow and dumb as they come!”

Finding a spot across from Bailey’s apartment, Andy maneuvers the car to parallel park as he tells her, “Oh, I have no doubt of that—you’re a woman of many facets, after all. Isn’t that what you told me? That I might get to see another side of you?”

“I might’ve said something like that...”

“I mean, tonight I got to see your athletic side, for one. You hustled after that foul ball more than most of the Reds did on the field.”

Bailey mutters her thanks, head ducked down.

Andy’s turned in the driver’s seat, seeming to study her, and Blondie is still humming through on the radio. Debbie Harry’s crystalline voice prevents them from being surrounded by dead air, singing about fragility and confusion of what could have been love. Bailey doesn’t think what she feels is love, but whatever it is is certainly confusing. Wanting to comb her fingers through a guy’s hair this badly, still feeling his touch on her arms as he steadied her over a good hour ago… yeah, it’s definitely messing with her mind.

Maybe that’s not a bad thing. But she doesn’t know if she can stand finding out. Not now.

“Bailey,” Andy starts, “What I’d been trying to get at… why I asked you about Fever, that is... I was wondering if—”

“Thanks again for tonight.” Bailey talks over him as her gaze pops up, and she leans in to give him a quick hug before pulling away. “Good night, and happy trails to Santa Fe, cowboy.”

“Bailey!”

He’s stunned, she knows, but she is too. But she’s already slipped out of the car, pulse pounding harder than when that foul ball was plummeting towards her. Trying to play it cool, she tips a nonchalant two-finger salute and attempts a weak joke by referencing the song she just mentioned. “Until we meet again.”

She briskly crosses the narrow street to the side where her apartment is. Just as she steps up on the sidewalk, she hears from behind her the one-two punch of the car engine cutting out, followed by a door slamming shut. Then comes Andy, calling, “Hey! Heads up, Quarters.”

Bailey whirls around just in time to see the baseball headed her way, and, unlike at the game, catches it easily. As she’s handling it, Andy crosses the street. With her standing up on the curb and him on the pavement, she’s taller than him by a few inches. He’s looking up at her, and she can almost picture it, what would happen if she were to take a step down.

“So are you gonna let me say my piece, and not interrupt me or run away?” he asks. “Or call me cowboy?”

“Well, I can do that now without getting into trouble. It’s kinda nice! Freeing, really.”

“Yeah, yeah, but I think what I have to say to you is more than kinda nice. And if you don’t think so, well, then you can turn and walk away, alright?”

“Alright.” Bailey nods, nervously rolling the ball around in her hands and feeling its rough stitches.

“The reason I was asking about you and Johnny—about encroaching and all that—is because I’m tired of pretending like I can move on from here like I did everywhere else. I’m not ready to say goodbye to Cincinnati just yet, and I’m definitely not ready to say goodbye to you, so I was hoping we could get together again before I head back.”

“That’d be great,” Bailey says. More than great. “Did you have anywhere in mind?”

“Not at my place, obviously, with everything all packed up.”

“I wasn’t thinking your place.” Not at first, anyway. “And as much as I liked the Reds game, I dunno if I can subject myself to watching them lay down and die like that again.”

That’s a lie. She’d go with Andy again, if he invited her. Who knows, maybe they’d run into Josh and Russ again, or make new friends? But, mostly, it’s the fact that it was the most fun she’s had since leaving WKRP.

She suspects Andy knows this, and that it’s the most fun he’s had too, but he plays along. “Then I’ll just come on down and visit your new stomping grounds, how ‘bout that?”

“So I can slide you a pint or two for free? Paying you back for the ones tonight, plus the one I made you spill?”

“Well, no, I was thinkin’ when you aren’t on the clock. We could go down there and… do what we did tonight.”

“Watch the Reds and chat?” Bailey suggests.

“Hey, if you’re offering, then sure.” That smirk of Andy’s, that he must know she’s unable to resist, appears. “Whaddya say?”

Bailey flips the ball straight up into the air, catches it. Her heart flips in much the same way. She can’t believe she’s about to say this word in relation to Andy Travis, to Andy Travis himself. “So like a date?” She tosses the ball up again.

Andy snatches it away. “Not just like one. A date.”

With Andy, any place with him sounds fun, date or otherwise. “Yes, then. It can be a date. Our first one.”

“Not a second? ‘Cause if you asked our new friend Josh, he’d say we were on a date.”

“He would, yeah, but the thing is, most dates don’t usually end like…” He nods back towards his car, that Bailey had been so eager to leave.

Bailey bites her lip, trying not to smile, despite her embarrassment. “No, well… sorry. You keep the ball then. Consider it my way of apologizing.”

“Are you sure? Like Russ said, you’re the one who caught it.”

“But what am I gonna do with it? Just let it roll under my couch and collect dust? Show it off to your family when you get back home, tell ‘em I caught it for you. It’ll be something to remember this night by, right?”

Mimicking Bailey’s earlier actions, Andy flips the ball up in the air and catches it. “But then what do you get?”

Bailey laughs lightly, tilting her head down, just as much to avoid Andy’s bright grin as examine her stained shirt. She gives it a tug, the screen-printed red C reflecting under the street lamps. “Oh, isn’t it obvious? You think there’s anything better I could get out of tonight than a beer-soaked Cubs shirt? I oughta wear this during my next shift at Louie’s, I’ll fit right in.”

“I do think there’s something better, yeah.”

There’s a soft thunk that Bailey vaguely registers as the ball hitting the ground. Then, hands at her waist. Andy’s. Lips on her own. Andy’s.

It’s all she needs to completely give in, to quit fighting her feelings. She’s clutching Andy’s shirt, keeping him pulled close just in case he thinks this is going to be some quick one-and-done thing. Her body swells against his, and inside her chest, her heart does the same, feeling fit to burst. Finally, she gets to feel his hair, woven through her fingers, and it’s even softer than she’d imagined.

Her thoughts are a jumble, a storm, and though she follows Andy’s lead, she wants to make it clear that this is in no way a kiss goodnight, or goodbye—that it’s a signal things, for however long they might last, are only getting started.

“I wanted to do that for a while,” he admits when she finally breaks away, needing air.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for a while.” Bailey feels like she could float away, drift on forever into the night sky. “At least it was here and not at the Dukes’ drive-in.”

“That could be arranged too, ya know. If you ever make it out to New Mexico.”

“Is that an invitation?” she asks.

“Always,” Andy replies, sincere. He takes a step back, stoops down to pick up the baseball from where it’s rolled a few inches away. “You’re always welcome to come see me, Bailey.”

“What about tonight, cowboy?” she teases. “Can I see a little more of you tonight?”

“Welllll,” Andy feigns as if he really has to think about it. “Someone’s gotta make up for the Reds not scoring tonight, so…”

The shocked laugh that leaves Bailey is cut off by another kiss. Sure, she’d hoped to have a good time at the Reds game with Andy, but she’d never expected it to end like this.

With her really knocking it out of the park.