AFTER MAKING IT through three boxes of financial disclosures, Donnelly grabbed his jacket and called it a day. There was a night game at Wrigley. He needed a beer, a brat, and mind-numbing conversation with the group of Iowa State alumni he hung out with to decompress from his job.

It was also a good way to forget about a certain redhead.

He made a pit-stop home first, so he could change and put away the firearm. Shoulder holsters were uncomfortable enough; it was worse to wear one while sitting on metal bleachers. It also meant he couldn't take off the jacket. Too hot to do that.

On his way home, his mother texted him. Jason? This is your Mother. Are you coming home this weekend? Love, Mom.

It didn't matter how many times he told her she didn't have to write texts like letters, she always did. Every single time. Now, he'd worry if she didn't.

Hello, mother. This is Jason, he texted back. I do not know. Work is busy. I will let you know on Thursday. Love, Jason.

Jason? This is your Mother. Are you taking the Saw Palmetto I sent you? Prostate health is so important. Love, Mother.

Hello, mother. This is Jason. I am not taking the Saw Palmetto you sent me for my prostate because I am only 29 years old. Love, Jason.

Jason? This is your Mother. Prostate cancer can affect young men as well as old...

He turned off his phone and shoved it into his jacket pocket.

Once he got home, he showered and changed into a pair of blue linen shorts and a red t-shirt advertising Harvester International on it, then wolfed down a Hot Pocket before heading out to Wrigley Field.

He ended up being late, which sucked, but what didn't suck was the fact he missed the crowds.

When he got to his section, his group was there, and judging by their smiles, already moderately buzzed. Well, it was the third inning. Even the slower drinkers would be on their third beer.

"Donnelly! Dude. Thought you were blowing us off!" Greg Nielander, his freshman roommate and best friend, slapped him on the back as he climbed to his seat. Greg worked at the Merc, in the pits, and basically was an adrenaline junkie. "Jase, I found it. How's this sound. You. Me. Alaska. Helicopters—" he paused dramatically "— wait for it... skiing!"

Donnelly flagged down a beer vendor. "Is this a game? Because you're using words that don't go together, Greg." He signaled one beer and passed down a $20. He got one beer and $5 change in return. Expensive? Sure. But beers tasted better at Wrigley.

"I'm saying, I found this group that goes up to Alaska, and you ski glaciers by jumping out of a helicopter!" Greg wrapped an arm around his neck and gave him a nookie, nearly making him spill his beer. The girl sitting in front him him squealed indignantly. "Sorry, Patty," Greg charmed her with a shit-eating grin. She blushed and turned back around. "So, what do you say, Jace? Interested?"

"No. No, I'm not."

Greg looked confused. "Why?"

"Because you want me to going skiing in Alaska by jumping out of helicopter." Jason took a drink of beer. "Tonight, when you go home, I want you to think about what that entails, and then, I want you to diagram it using pencil and paper."

Greg laughed. "What it entails is memories, and experience, and man versus wild."

Donnelly scanned the diamond. Playing had stopped. Something was going on by home plate, but it was too far away to tell. Their seats sucked, but only Greg could afford better ones.

The rest of them, him included, need five more years before they could afford a seat by first base.

In his opinion, it would be a shame. Those people never looked like they were having fun.

Greg shoved him and pulled him back into the conversation. "Come on. Tell me you'll think about it."

"That would be a lie." Jason pointed at home base. "You see what 's going on up there?"

"Who gives a shit?" Greg shook his head. "Jace, this is your one... count it, one chance to experience skiing on a glacier. You know they're melting... oh, shit... check that one out... hail Peloton, full of grace..." Greg waved at a pretty blond woman, who looked directly at them, then pretended not to. "Sorry, buddy, gotta go meet my next ex-girlfriend."

He pushed his way through the people in front and somehow managed to squeeze in next to her. Jason watched him whisper something to her. She burst out laughing, then toasted him.

Greg was the most extroverted extrovert he had ever met. Skiing on a glacier? Even if he wanted to go, he couldn't afford it. That didn't exactly fit into a government employee's budget. Jason drank his beer. Where was the brat guy? The beer was fine, but he needed something more than a Hot Pocket in his stomach.

"Are they ever going to throw the ball?" An unfamiliar redheaded man sitting on his right grinned at him. "Baseball. The slowest game ever invented. Me, I would never come except for the wife —" he pointed at the woman next to him "—she makes me."

The wife, or at least Jason assumed it was his wife, wrinkled her nose at the man.

The couple who usually sat on his right were a newly married couple who lived in Lincoln Park. They were friendly enough, but that was about it. Maybe these two were their parents? No, not parents... too young... aunt and uncle? Older brother or sister?

The thing about going to a baseball game at Wrigley Field was that people were your average upper-middle-class crowd. You had your kombucha drinkers, and you had your Miller Lite drinkers, and you had your single malt scotch drinkers, but they were all averaging incomes of over $80k a year. Even the cheap seats, like where he was sitting, were expensive.

But this couple, they were seriously out of place in many ways. First of all, they were maybe five to ten years older than the surrounding crowd. It wasn't that you didn't see the thirty-pluses in the vicinity, but not thirty pluses that looked like they did. The woman was Top Model beautiful. Thin, except where it mattered, with a perfect face, flawless skin, and expensively dressed. Not that he knew the price on women's clothes--he didn't--but he did know purses, and he recognized the one she was carrying. Unless it was a really good knock off, it was an Hermes Birkin, priced upward of $20,000.

He knew this because Ainsley tried to get him to buy her one.

$20,000 for a purse when people were dying of lack of access to clean water and curable disease? Jason tried to explain the immorality of purchasing such an item, but it was lost on her.

"Good things happen to good people, she'd tried to explain. "Bad things happen to bad people. If there were good, they wouldn't be starving."

Thinking of Ainsley gave him a headache. He rubbed his forehead and willed her out of his mind.

As for the man, he wore pretty much the same thing that Jason was wearing, except add three zeros to the price tag. Jason, whose job was essentially people watching, would have been intrigued, except that he really wanted to focus on the game.

The woman granted him a beautiful smile. "Don't listen to him," she told him. "He loves baseball. He just loves complaining more."

"It's true. I love to complain." The redhead man kissed the woman's cheek. "I complain about everything but you."

She pursed her lips, fighting a smile. "That's because you know what will happen if you do." She stood up. "On that note, I'm off to the little girl's room. Maybe the game will be back on when I get back."

"Doubtful." The redhead man helped her stand up. Jason stood up to let her scoot around him and did his best to not look down her cleavage.

"Ian Gallagher," the redhead man said, sticking out his hand.

"Jason Donnelly." He gave the hand a manly shake. "You from Chicago, Ian?"

"No, but we visit. You?"

The man wore his watch on his right wrist. It was large, gold, and Jason was fairly sure it was one of those that cost more than a car. "No. I'm a country boy."

"Salt of the earth," the man replied with a grin. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Where abouts you from, Jason?"

"Nowhere you would know. Grew up on a rural route." Jason took a drink of beer.

"Yeah, I think I got you beat. The town I'm from, well, it literally got zoned out of existence." The man chuckled. "It means I'm from nowhere."

"Wow. That's something." Jason forced a smile. "So what brings you to the cheap seats?"

"So you can tell, huh?" The man looked a little embarrassed. "You know, I tried to dress down."

"Did your wife?" Jason asked. "That purse of hers, well, it's the price of a car. A really nice car."

"Okay. Busted." The man threw up his hands. "The truth is, we're here tonight on a whim, which meant we had to take the seats that were left." The man smiled conspiratorially. "The real truth is I waited too long to buy seats because I like sitting down here, and not with those rich sons-of-bitches up there. You kids are definitely more fun."

Kids? Okay, boomer. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The man grinned. "Since I'm being so open with you, it's even worse than that." The man leaned closer. "I'm actually a Cardinal's fan... I know!" He laughed at Jason's aghast look. "I know. Look at me, in the enemy's house. But the wife, she's a Cubby Bear."

Jason raised his glass, and said loudly, "To the Cubs!"

Everyone sitting around them echoed, "To the Cubs!"

The redhead man raised his bottle. "To the Cubs! You know what they say... when in Rome..."

"Root for the Cubs," Jason finished. "Do me a favor. Let me know when you see the brat guy."

The redhead man frowned. "Are you sure? I'm a vegetarian, myself. Have you thought about giving up meat? It's a proven fact the body has difficulty processing animal proteins, not to mention the havoc it's wrecking on the environment..."

Somebody hit me with a foul ball now, Jason prayed. End my suffering.

There was a roar from up around home plate, followed by a loud boo. Jason leaped to his feet,  but it was impossible to know what was going on. Everybody sat back down. The game resumed.

"Hey, Jason, you were a Marine, weren't you?"the redhead man asked.

"What?" Startled, Jason turned back to the redheaded man. "Oh, yes, I served in the Marines. JAG corps. How'd you know?"

"It's a game I like to play, guess what branch of the military people served in," the man replied. "So, the Judge Advocate General... you're a lawyer, I take it."

Donnelly turned back to the game. "Yes, sir. Don't hold it against me."

"No worries," the man said. "I know a lot of lawyers."

Cubbies were up. First batter hit... and made it to first. Donnelly cupped his mouth. "Whoo hoo... World Series!"

There was a loud snap. The crowd roared. "Foul Ball!" The announcer yelled.

The crowd groaned.

"Are you in practice?" the redhead man asked. "I'm always looking for legal counsel."

This man was annoying AF. Donnelly kept his eyes glued on the game. "No. I'm in government."

"Really? What do you do in the government?"

There was friendly, and there was inquisitive, but this was something else. For a moment, Donnelly had an unsettling feeling that the man was preying on him. He grimaced and finished his beer. It was a bad day. It had made him paranoid. Plus, he was hungry. If the brat guy didn't come in a minute, he'd go to concessions and get one there. "Bases loaded," Donnelly replied, trying to redirect. "We got one strike. We get this runner in..."

A loud snap. "IT'S A HOME RUN!! ONE... TWO... THREE... FOUR! THAT'S FOUR RUNNERS MAKING THEIR WAY TO HOME BASE..."

Jason jumped to his feet as the crowd roared. "Did you see that!" he yelled and pointed at the field. "A homer, with bases loaded!"

The crowd started chanting "World Series! World Series."

Everyone was clapping and high-fiving, except for the redhead man, who was staring at his phone. "Aw, hell. Work, man. You know, you think you're done for the day, and the next thing you know, you gotta go back in."

"What? Oh, that sucks. Sorry, man." Donnelly resumed clapping. "Go Cubbies!"

"Have you ever had this one person on your team that's just really not on the same page as everyone else?" The man shoved his phone into his back pocket. "You know, this person has everything going for them, but it doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter."

"Oh, well, sorry about that."

"Yeah, me, too. Here's the thing." The man grabbed Donnelly's shoulder. "I like you, Jason. People like you make this country great."

Jason whipped around and looked at the hand. "Can you get your hand--"

The man yanked him back, twisting his arm up at the same time. "But you get one and only one warning," the man whispered in his ear. "Stay away from Siobhan McIver." He shoved Jason forward, causing the women sitting in from of them to shriek and curse.

"Jason! You asshole! You're paying for my dry cleaning!"

Cursing, Jason bounced off them and threw himself upright. "FBI!" he yelled, "Stop! You stop right now!" The redhead man had just enough of a lead to disappear around a corner as soon as he got to the main level.

"IT'S A HIT!" the announcer yelled. "THE CUBBIES ARE ON FIRE!"

The stadium roared.

Jason flew down the steps and around the corner, but the redhead man had disappeared. The only person there was a man sweeping trash. "You see a redhead man down here?"

The sweeper shook his head. "I ain't seen no one."

The man didn't even look up. Okay. So it's like that. Jason flashed his I.D. "FBI. Did you see a redhead man go this way?"

The man stopped sweeping; his face hard as granite. "I said, I ain't see no one."

"He would have gone either direction—"

"How many times do I have to say I ain't seen no one." The man gave him a death stare, then went back to sweeping. "I don't talk to no cops, I don't care, warrant or not, I don't talk to no cops."

Jason rubbed his forehead. Too late. The redhead man was gone. He stood in the middle of the empty hallway, the smell of the concession stand assaulting his senses. He was hungry, and there was no line.

Oh, to hell with it. He ordered two brats and a thing of nachos, then got out his phone.

It went to voicemail. "Siobhan, it's Jason. Call me when you get a chance."

_____ * _____ * _____ * _____ * _____

Another Jason chapter, showing his life in Chicago.

BTW,  @julietlyons has a wonderful Jason Donnelly story: Three Kisses. It takes place when Donnelly was in high school. https://www.wattpad.com/330906401-three-kisses

Thank you so much for staying with the story! I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave a comment. Also, if you liked it, please remember to vote!

©Copyright Liz Charnes February 2020

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