Free Hot Ticket by Deirdre Martin, Julia London, Annette Blair, Geri Buckley Page A

could single-handedly bring the team down, then doesn’t it stand to reason that he could single-handedly build them up? You can’t argue the facts, Guido. Two homeruns, four RBIs, and three double plays in the last two weeks.”
    And for a couple of weeks after that, the Mets were suddenly so hot—thanks in large part to Parker’s bat—that Kelly had to turn her on-air attention to the Yankees, who had an uncharacteristically bad slump after losing a series to the Red Sox.
    In the meantime, Kelly was on cloud nine. Between her negotiations with ESPN and spending every moment she could with Parker, she felt like she was living in a dream. Everything was going her way. Her ratings were at an all-time high. New York,which she’d once likened to a stinking cesspool in the dead of summer, suddenly seemed beautiful, filled with flowers and bright sunshine, friendly people, and lots of shiny cabs.
    Guido was beside himself over Kelly’s new positively giddy demeanor and started teasing her mercilessly, calling her Priceman’s Payment Plan, or making cooing noises when Parker would call. Once, when she said something glowing about his performance on air, Guido hit the thousand-smooches button, making the entire booth sound like it was filled with kissers.
    There was a time when Kelly would have chafed beneath such teasing and thought it was undignified for a female sports radio talk show host. But now she didn’t care in the least and just laughed at Guido. How could she care? She was very happy. She loved being with Parker. She loved the way he laughed, how he seemed to take everything in stride, and how he was so very attentive of her. It was true—they were hounded wherever they went by eager fans wanting an autograph or to talk baseball, and while she admired the way he spoke to each person as if they were a personal friend, he still managed to be sure she had his undivided attention.
    Parker was also determined to infuse some culture into her, and marched her from one museum to another—which, Kelly was privately surprised to discover, she actually enjoyed. She would have thought she’d be deadly bored in them, but instead, she was intrigued by the art and artifacts.
    They also attended some Broadway shows, which she tried very hard to like, but finally used as an excuse to insist they do some of the things she liked. Parker thought that was great and dove right into spending an entire Monday afternoon and evening in a movie marathon of Kelly’s creation, watching the classics and sharing several big bowls of popcorn, which Parker insisted on slathering in butter.
    When the Mets played in town, Kelly had great seats behind home plate. Parker made it a habit to look up and find her whenhe walked out to bat. She would smile and give him a thumbs-up. It worked like magic—Parker was hitting so well that the airwaves were full of Parker Price, calling him the best ballplayer of the decade. Once, when Kelly went to the game with her sister, someone tipped off the network booth as to who she was. Her picture was broadcast up on the Jumbotron in the stadium and to Mets fans across the world, along with the commentator’s remark that she was Parker Price’s new love interest.
    Needless to say, Guido was merciless after that and had the entire radio station staff teasing her.
    A few days after another fantastic afternoon game against Milwaukee in New York, Parker brought Kelly home with him to his house on Long Island. When they arrived, a blue-haired woman was waiting at the bottom of his drive, holding a box.
    “Uh-oh,” Parker muttered as the gate to his house swung open.
    “Uh-oh? Why uh-oh?” Kelly asked, fearing a deranged stalker.
    “My neighbor,” he sighed as he put the car in park and got out. “Hello, Mrs. Frankel.”
    “Parker, you hit pretty well today,” she said, nodding approvingly. “I won’t lie to you—I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but so far, you’ve managed to hang