These evening games were a blessing after the harsh summer day. The cacophony here behind home plate was intense: the crack of every hit, the roar of the crowd at each almost-home-run or foul ball that popped into the stands, the pulsing music played between each new batter, the announcer cutting in with stats and names. And the vendors stepping through the aisles hawking their wares.
"Ice cream! We're screaming for ice cream!"
"Popcorn. Get your popcorn here!"
"Crackerjack's a ballgame classic!"
"Hot dogs!" the blonde in the baseball cap bawled over the other vendors and her own earplugs. "Hot dogs!" She schlepped her heavy, sloshing case up and down the stairs. Someone waved, and the woman turned. "Hey, sir!" The man nodded. He brought his head back and his eyes slid down her uniform: a tank and too-short shorts.
"How much?" he said. The woman tapped one of the badly-printed buttons on her lanyard.
"A hotdog is five bucks, sir!"
"I didn't mean the hotdog," he said. He traded glances with his buddies. The blonde grinned widely.
"Oh, you can't afford my wiener." She left him with his friends' laughter--and a hotdog. Another spectator waved, and the woman heaved her case onward to klung it across an empty seat. She traded dog for dosh; another customer shouted for her attention--
The blonde grimaced; her heated case nearly dropped to the concrete, but she dug her nails into the metal. She slung it at an empty-handed employee, and stormed up the aisle where Dawn somehow managed to skulk in the underpass out of the stadium. She had her dark hair tucked under a ballcap of her own; "Security," read her shirt.
"That was witty," Dawn said. The blonde half-twisted to follow Dawn's gesture back out into the stadium.
"Oh, yeah. Thanks," said the blonde. She turned back to bare her teeth at the taller woman. "You heard that? What are you doing here? How did you find me?" Dawn leaned forward; she ignored the blonde's animal hiss.
"Well, the hat was a start," Dawn said. She tweaked her own cap. "And just between the two of us, you stank of hot dog water at the airport." Dawn watched the woman's hands at her side clawing at nothing. The smaller woman tossed her hair.
"Okay, so that's fair. But what are you doing here?"
"I want to meet your sire." It was blonde's turn to step in closer. A sickly sweet scent filled the small alcove, not quite hidden underneath the smell of hotdogs and stale bread. Dawn cleared her throat, but before opened her mouth the blonde hissed:
"Why?" She narrowed her eyes. "I told you, we don't work for 'A.'"
"It's not about him," Dawn said. "It's about her." The blonde arched her eyebrows.
"Isn't that the same thing? You could say they're--joined at the hip." She rolled her eyes at Dawn's horrified silence. "Not literally. But really, what do you want from my boss?"
"I need information from your sire," Dawn said. "Maybe she'd be willing to see me. If she trades in favors, some information on--him--would be worth a few." The blonde chewed on the inside of her cheek; a copper tang joined the scents in the alcove.
"Well, it would. And, built like that, you could get stuff done, if you wanted," she said slowly. "I'm sure he--my boss--would be interested." The blonde nodded decisively. "Yes, okay. Sure. That's fine. If it'll get you off our turf now, I'll see if I can get you to him--later. I've gotta work." Dawn shrugged.
"That's fine. I'll see you later--Amelia." The blonde, Amelia, whirled back.
"How--?" She snarled as Dawn tapped her chest. Amelia clapped her hands over another of the buttons there. She stormed back into the stadium with Dawn's heavy laughter filling her stuffed ears.
"Ice cream! We're screaming for ice cream!"
"Popcorn. Get your popcorn here!"
"Crackerjack's a ballgame classic!"
"Hot dogs!" the blonde in the baseball cap bawled over the other vendors and her own earplugs. "Hot dogs!" She schlepped her heavy, sloshing case up and down the stairs. Someone waved, and the woman turned. "Hey, sir!" The man nodded. He brought his head back and his eyes slid down her uniform: a tank and too-short shorts.
"How much?" he said. The woman tapped one of the badly-printed buttons on her lanyard.
"A hotdog is five bucks, sir!"
"I didn't mean the hotdog," he said. He traded glances with his buddies. The blonde grinned widely.
"Oh, you can't afford my wiener." She left him with his friends' laughter--and a hotdog. Another spectator waved, and the woman heaved her case onward to klung it across an empty seat. She traded dog for dosh; another customer shouted for her attention--
The blonde grimaced; her heated case nearly dropped to the concrete, but she dug her nails into the metal. She slung it at an empty-handed employee, and stormed up the aisle where Dawn somehow managed to skulk in the underpass out of the stadium. She had her dark hair tucked under a ballcap of her own; "Security," read her shirt.
"That was witty," Dawn said. The blonde half-twisted to follow Dawn's gesture back out into the stadium.
"Oh, yeah. Thanks," said the blonde. She turned back to bare her teeth at the taller woman. "You heard that? What are you doing here? How did you find me?" Dawn leaned forward; she ignored the blonde's animal hiss.
"Well, the hat was a start," Dawn said. She tweaked her own cap. "And just between the two of us, you stank of hot dog water at the airport." Dawn watched the woman's hands at her side clawing at nothing. The smaller woman tossed her hair.
"Okay, so that's fair. But what are you doing here?"
"I want to meet your sire." It was blonde's turn to step in closer. A sickly sweet scent filled the small alcove, not quite hidden underneath the smell of hotdogs and stale bread. Dawn cleared her throat, but before opened her mouth the blonde hissed:
"Why?" She narrowed her eyes. "I told you, we don't work for 'A.'"
"It's not about him," Dawn said. "It's about her." The blonde arched her eyebrows.
"Isn't that the same thing? You could say they're--joined at the hip." She rolled her eyes at Dawn's horrified silence. "Not literally. But really, what do you want from my boss?"
"I need information from your sire," Dawn said. "Maybe she'd be willing to see me. If she trades in favors, some information on--him--would be worth a few." The blonde chewed on the inside of her cheek; a copper tang joined the scents in the alcove.
"Well, it would. And, built like that, you could get stuff done, if you wanted," she said slowly. "I'm sure he--my boss--would be interested." The blonde nodded decisively. "Yes, okay. Sure. That's fine. If it'll get you off our turf now, I'll see if I can get you to him--later. I've gotta work." Dawn shrugged.
"That's fine. I'll see you later--Amelia." The blonde, Amelia, whirled back.
"How--?" She snarled as Dawn tapped her chest. Amelia clapped her hands over another of the buttons there. She stormed back into the stadium with Dawn's heavy laughter filling her stuffed ears.
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