Keeping Secrets in Seattle - By Brooke Moss Page 0,61

popularity went up a few notches. Nora waved good-bye, and we were on our way. I cranked one of Gabe’s favorite bands, letting the music thunder through the cab as I handed each of the guys a frosty beer from Gabe’s favorite microbrewery. The guys were still mildly irritated that they were blindfolded, but started chattering back and forth as we hit the I-5 highway toward Pioneer Square and downtown Seattle. Most of the ride was spent peppering me with questions and guesses about where the driver was taking us, and what we were doing.

As soon as we came to a stop at our destination, the driver promptly came around to open my door.

“Thank you,” I quipped, taking off my trench coat and tossing it back into the Hummer. “If you could help me bring in those boxes that are in the trunk, that would be great.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, trotting off.

Each of Gabe’s friends emerged carefully, the breeze off the water a few blocks away ruffling their hair…or at least those who had hair.

“I can smell the Sound. Are we at the waterfront?” Gabe asked. “I’m taking this thing off.”

“No, you cannot take them off yet. And no, we are not at the waterfront.” I pulled the coffin cooler and yelled over my shoulder. “Put a hand on the shoulder in front of you, guys, and follow the sound of my voice.”

“Oh, come on,” Greg whined.

I stifled a laugh. “It will be worth it.”

“Dude, are people watching us?” Dan asked loudly.

I looked around; there were a few tourists standing across the parking lot taking pictures of the front of the building. “Yeah, there’s a few tourists. I think they’re from…India, maybe?”

Gabe was grinning now. “Come on, Vi, tourists? Where are we?”

I led the long strand of men toward a side entrance labeled Authorized Personnel Only, where a gawky man in his fifties stood waiting for us.

As we approached, he smiled kindly at me. “I’m Dwight. We spoke on the phone.”

I shook his hand. “Thank you for all your help.”

“Anything for Leandra.” He let my line of blindfolded men pass, reminding each of them to watch their step. We walked across an office, then through a maze of echoing cement hallways, as Gabe called out guesses from the back of the pack.

“Are we at the mall?”

“No.”

“The back entrance to a movie theater?”

“No.”

“A strip club?”

“No, Dan.”

“Dammit.”

“Where the hell are we, then?”

“Shut up and walk.”

After five minutes of walking through the cement tunnels and crossing through heavy metal doorways, we came out to a tunnel lined in dark royal blue with a light at the end of it. I let Dwight lead the guys toward the source of the light and fell in step next to Guthrie.

I touched his hand. “Take off your blindfold. I want you to see this before Gabe does.”

He took the black cloth off his eyes and put his wire-rimmed glasses back on his face. His eyes had widened to the size of half dollars, and his face broke into the widest grin I’d ever seen him sport.

We were at Safeco Field, home of the Mariners, walking out of the players’ tunnel onto the very field where his beloved M’s played every season. The retractable roof was open, and the late April sun was pouring onto the heavily manicured diamond, accentuating the vivid colors of the brown dirt, the white lines, and the short grass.

I’d been to more Mariners games than most women my age, and Guthrie had been to at least three times as many as I had. Some of those games were spent in some impressive seats. But as we approached the sunlight at ground level, nothing could have compared to the beauty of being on the field itself.

“I…what…how did you…?” Guthrie looked at me, and for a second, I thought he was going to cry. Instead, he put his arm around me and squeezed me close, kissing the top of my head. “You did really well. You are a wonderful, wonderful friend to my son.”

Tears sprang in my eyes, and I blinked a few times. “Thanks,” I managed to choke out as we stepped onto the brown dirt and into the sunlight.

The rows and rows of over 46,000 empty hard plastic seats stared down at us, and the deafening sound of silence filled my ears. Since the M’s were out of town for an away game, it was just us on the field. I’d never been to Safeco Field when it was so startlingly quiet.