Bet Me

Liza smiled. “Tell me about Cal Morrisey.”

  “Why?” Shanna said, warily.

  “Because he’s been kissing my best friend, and I’ve heard he has a commitment problem.”

  Shanna shrugged. “Him and half the male population.”

  “Half of the male population isn’t kissing Min,” Liza said. “He’s not serious about her, is he?”

  Shanna bit her lip. “He’s the best guy I know. If I was ever in trouble, I’d call Cal, and he would come and get me out, I know that in my soul.”

  “And yet, not an answer to my question,” Liza said.

  Shanna was quiet for a moment and then she said, “Tell your friend not to get invested. He doesn’t stay.”

  “Thank you,” Liza said.

  “But he’s a really good guy,” Shanna said.

  “I keep hearing that,” Liza said, getting up. “I’m just having trouble believing it.”

  At seven, Cal decided that one more minute of looking at the seminar packet would make him beat his head against the desk, and he’d had enough cranial injury for the month. On the other hand, looking at Min at The Long Shot would only lead to being called the devil again. Or, if she was having a good day, a beast. He stood up and stretched, and then set out for home, slowing down as he passed the Gryphon Theater. They were doing the last week of the John Carpenter revival, and there was a short line out in front for Big Trouble in Little China.

  Kurt Russell beats the bad guys, he thought. Haven’t seen that since I was a kid. The last person left the box office, and he went up and bought a ticket. Better than spending the night alone, concentrating on not thinking about . . . anyone.

  As he walked in, the previews were running for an Elvis Presley series, and he thought of Min. Forget her, he told himself, and found a place a few rows down and a few seats over, surrounded by empty seats. But as the movie began and Kurt started talking trash in his truck, a family of five came in and asked him to move down. The person to the right of his new seat was quiet, so he slouched down and lost himself in the movie, peaceful for the first time since the night before.

  When the lights came up, he stood up to go at the same time as the woman on his right. Medium height, short curly brown hair tipped with gold, turning now to get her gray-checked jacket . . .

  They stared at each other for a long, dumbstruck moment, and then she walked out of the theater and he followed. When they were outside she turned and looked at him.

  “What are the odds?” Cal said.

  “I don’t even know how to calculate the odds,” Min said, and started walking, and he fell into pace beside her because she shouldn’t walk home alone in the dark in the city.

  Coincidence, Cal told himself. Happens all the time. No big deal. Means nothing.

  When they got to her apartment, she climbed the steps without any arguing about who was going first, and for once he was too stunned to think about her rear end. At her door she turned and said, “Thank you for walking me home,” and he said, “You’re welcome.” They looked at each other for one long moment, and Cal felt breathless, falling into her eyes, and he thought, Oh, Christ, no, not you. Then she shook her head and went inside and closed the door, and he turned and walked down fifty-eight steps to the street, not sure whether to be relieved or not.

  He paused and looked up at the dormer that was her bedroom window. The cat sat there, silhouetted against the light from her lamp, staring down at him, probably shutting one eye in the darkness. He imagined Min sitting down on that satin comforter, lying back on embroidered pillows that smelled of lavender, her gold-tipped curls against the blue satin, and he put himself there, beside her, pulling her to him, her arms around him, all her warm roundness against him, soft and yielding, imagined taking her lush mouth, feeling the swell of her breast under his hand, the rise of her hips to his, imagined pushing into all that softness, shuddering into the hot wetness of her, hearing her moan and sigh as he moved, and he realized that he wanted her more than he could ever have imagined wanting anything or anyone.

  The light went out in her bedroom and broke the spell, and he closed his eyes against the darkness and the cold shock of reality. Then he turned and started back to the main street, to light and noise and safety.

  On Thursday, when Liza showed up at Min’s apartment for the If Dinner, Bonnie answered the door looking cautious. When Liza lifted her eyebrows to ask What?, Bonnie shook her head and stood back to let her in.

  “Hi,” Min said, a little too quietly, and Liza thought, That rat bastard Cal.

  “What did he do?”

  “Nothing,” Min said. “Sit down. I made a huge Cobb salad and I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

  Liza turned back to the couch and saw a one-eyed animal looking at her. “You still have the cat.”

  “I love that cat,” Min said. “He’s always there for me, he pats me with his paw when I’m depressed, he keeps me warm at night, and he has a beautiful voice. I’ve decided he’s the reincarnation of Elvis.”

  “The long wait is over,” Liza said. He gave her something she didn’t even know she needed. The bastard.

  After ten minutes of bread, salad, and stilted conversation about the cat, Liza had had enough. “I talked to Cynthie last night. She said Cal would try to—”

  “I like him,” Bonnie said.

  Liza sat back in her chair. “What?”

  “I like him,” Bonnie said.

  “That doesn’t mean you should encourage—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Min said, and they both turned to look at her. “I’m trying to get away from him, but it’s not working. Remember that snow globe I lost? He found it. He came over on Tuesday and went straight down to the basement and picked out the one box there that the snow globe was in.”

  “Dumb luck,” Liza said.

  “And then last night, I decided to go to the movies,” Min said. “And when the lights came up, guess who was sitting beside me?”

  “Now that’s creepy,” Liza said, going cold. “He’s stalking you.”

  “No,” Min said. “I picked up the paper, and the movie page fell out, and I saw Big Trouble in Little China was at the revival theater, and I thought, ‘Oh, good, Kurt Russell beats the bad guys’ and I went on an impulse. I didn’t tell anybody. I didn’t even mention it to the cat. And there he was. It’s like he’s magic.”

  “It’s like he’s the devil,” Liza said.

  “It’s like he’s the prince,” Bonnie said.

  Liza and Min looked at her.

  “In the fairy tale,” Bonnie said. “He has to go on quests to get you. And the snow globe was one.”

  “Bonnie, honey,” Min said, jarred out of her numbness. “Let’s do the Ifs instead. If I were a sane person, I wouldn’t be so freaked out by this. So I’m going to be a sane person and not be freaked out. Liza? What’s your If?”

  “If I find out Cal Morrisey is stalking you, I’m going to tear him limb from limb,” Liza said. “Bonnie?”

  “If you two get any dumber, I’m going to have to find new friends,” Bonnie scowled at Min. “Cal’s winning you. Just like in the fairy tale. You said his kiss woke you up.”

  “I said his kiss turned me on,” Min said. “Not the same thing.” She leaned forward a little. “I was fine with using the fairy tale as a sort of metaphor, Bon, but this is real life. No prince, no stepmother, no poisoned apple.”

  “And no happy ending if you think like that,” Bonnie said. “True love is beating you over the head to get your attention, and you’re rejecting it because you don’t want to believe. You have the fairy tale right in front of you—”

  “Wait a minute,” Liza said, trying to head off disaster.

  “And you’re worse,” Bonnie said, turning on her. “Min doesn’t believe in love for her, but you don’t believe in it for anybody. You’re a love nihilist.”

  “A love nihilist.” Liza thought about it. “I kind of like that.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Min said. “I believe i
n love. I think. I just don’t believe in fairy tales.”

  “I have known my whole life that sooner or later my prince would come,” Bonnie said to Min. “How many times have you told me that everybody gets lucky breaks in business but not everybody is ready for them? Well, it’s true about love, too. I’ve been planning my marriage my whole life because I’m smart enough to know that’s the most important decision I’ll ever make, and now Roger’s here, and I’m ready to go. And you two are going to miss it when it comes for you because you don’t want to believe because if it isn’t true, you’ll be disappointed.”

  Liza rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on—”

  “You’re planning on being disappointed, you’d be disappointed if you weren’t disappointed, your whole world view depends on men disappointing you.” Bonnie picked up her plate. “Well, that’s just cowardly. Especially you” she said, scowling at Min. “You’ve got Cal right in front of you, loving you so much he can’t see straight, you’ve got fate sending you so many signals even I can see them, and you’re holding on to that bet like a shield. You haven’t even asked him about the bet, have you?”

  “What’s he going to say?” Min said. “ ‘Yeah, but I’m really your prince and I love you truly, come to bed’?”

  “You’re not usually this slow,” Bonnie said, “so it must be just chicken-hearted fear. What if this is real? What if this is the happily ever after and he truly loves you so much that it’s forever? Then what are you going to do?” She shook her head. “You don’t know. You never prepared for that. You’ve thought about everything in your life, but you never thought about that. You’re hopeless.” She took her plate out to the kitchen and came back to shove her chair under the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow at The Long Shot. I’m going to go see Roger and remember why I believe.”

  “Bon, wait,” Min said, getting up, but Bonnie was already at the door.

  When she slammed it behind her, Min sat down across from Liza.

  “Well, at least we’re sane,” Min said.

  “Yeah,” Liza said. “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Not that well,” Min said. “Did you bring dessert?”

  “Cherry Dove Bars,” Liza said.

  “Give me one,” Min said. “I’ll be sensible tomorrow.”

  On Friday, Cal was settling in to stay home for a change on the theory that if he didn’t leave the apartment, nothing weird would happen to him, when he heard “She” go on next door.

  “Oh, for crying out loud,” he said and then stopped because that was what Min always said. “No,” he told himself and went next door to distract himself with Shanna. “You got dumped again?” he said when she opened the door.

  “No,” she said, serious, but not tear-stained. “I’m trying to figure out my life. Come on in.”

  “Figure out your life?” Cal said, following her.

  “I keep thinking if I listen to this song, there’ll be a clue,” Shanna said, getting out her bottle of Glenlivet.

  “If you’re planning your life based on a popular song, you need that Scotch more than I do,” Cal said.

  “It’s not that.” Shanna poured his drink. “I’ve always gone on the theory that one day the right woman would show up and I’d know.”

  “You’ve pretty much disproved that one,” Cal said, taking the glass she handed him.

  “So I thought since Elvis Costello had already made a list of things the perfect woman would have, I’d start there, and sort of figure out what kind of person I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. And then if I met somebody who didn’t fit the list . . .”

  “That’s very organized of you.” Cal sat down on the couch and thought, That’s very Min of her.

  “But the thing is,” Shanna was saying, “Elvis is not saying she’s perfect. So I’m thinking maybe I just need a few key things. Like she should be kind.”

  “Yes,” Cal said, remembering Min with Harry.

  “And smart,” Shanna said. “Somebody I don’t have to explain everything to.”

  “Maybe,” Cal said, thinking about explaining chicken marsala to Min. “It’s no crime not to know everything. I’d make that somebody who was open to new ideas, willing to learn. And who had things to teach you.”

  “See, this is good,” Shanna said, sitting down on her coffee table trunk. “And I thought a sense of humor would be important.”

  “Right,” Cal said. “If you can’t laugh at the screwups, what’s the point?” He thought of Min saying, “Good thing this isn’t a date,” when they’d confused their Elvises, and—

  “And because I’m superficial, I put down physically attractive,” Shanna said.

  “Me, too,” Cal said, trying not to think of Min in all her hot glory. “And great shoes.”

  “What?” Shanna said.

  “Nothing. What else?”

  “That was it,” Shanna said. “I didn’t want to make too long a list. Kind, smart, funny, attractive. How’s that?”

  “Damn good if you can find it,” Cal said.

  “Didn’t you?” Shanna said. “Min? She seemed—”

  “Not dating her,” Cal said. “Barely know her.”

  “Uh huh,” Shanna said. “And why is that? She’s pretty, she’s kind, she’s smart, she makes you smile, and you get all dazed when you kiss her. What is it that she doesn’t have?”

  “Well,” Cal began and stopped. “She bitches at me a lot.”

  “Chicken,” Shanna said. “You could walk away from all the other ones because they weren’t right. This is the real thing, so you’re running.”

  “This from a woman who just made a shopping list for love.” Cal stood up and handed the Scotch back to her. “I’m going now. Best of luck with that list.”

  Shanna clucked at him as he went out the door, and he went home to ignore her. Once there, he realized that he hadn’t had dinner, and he wasn’t going out because if he did, he’d fall over Min.

  “Not a problem,” he told himself and went out to the kitchen. He had bread and peanut butter and not much else, so he plugged in the toaster and put the bread in and then he leaned against the refrigerator and waited for the toast to pop.

  His kitchen was ugly, he realized as he looked around. And through the archway, his living room was worse. Maybe if he fixed the place up a little, he’d want to stay home more. He was getting too damn old to be hanging out in bars anyway. The phone rang and he grabbed it, grateful to have a distraction.

  “Calvin?” he heard his mother say, but even she was better than the silence.

  “Mother,” he said. “How are you?” His toast popped, and he cradled the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he opened the peanut butter.

  “I’m calling about dinner on Sunday,” she said.

  “I will be there, Mother,” Cal said, thinking, I’m there the third Sunday of every month, Mother. Definitely in a rut.

  “I’d like you to pick up our guest.”

  “Guest?” Cal said, as he got out a table knife to spread the peanut butter.

  “Minerva Dobbs,” his mother said.

  “What?” Cal said and dropped the knife.

  “I called her because Harrison has been speaking of her often, and it occurred to me that it would be nice for him to have her there.”

  Cal sighed. “What did she say when you called?”

  “She seemed surprised,” his mother said. “But when I explained that Harrison would be so pleased if she came—”

  “She said yes,” Cal said, reaching for his toast. “However, I cannot bring her because I will not be seeing her ever aga—” His fingers brushed the metal top of the toaster and he burned himself and dropped the phone. “Damn it,” he said and put his scorched fingertips in his mouth.

  “Calvin?” his mother said from the phone.

  He picked up the receiver. “I burned myself on the toaster. Sorry.” Cal turned on the cold water and stuck his fingers underneath the stream. “Anyway, I will not be seeing Minerva Do
bbs again.” He stepped away from the sink onto something hard and his foot slipped out from under him and smacked into the cabinets. “Ouch.”

  “Calvin?” his mother said.

  “I stepped on a knife.” Cal bent to pick up the peanut butter knife and smacked his head into the counter. “Hell.”

  “Did you cut yourself?” his mother asked.

  “No. I . . .” He put the knife in the sink. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Mother.”

  “Calvin?” his mother said, and he hung up on her and considered the situation.

  He was sabotaging himself, that had to be it. He was distracted, he was tired, he was hungry, he was careless. He picked up the phone again and called Tony’s cell.

  “Hello?” Tony yelled over the noise of the bar.

  “Is Min there with you?” Cal said.

  “Wait a minute,” Tony said, and came back on a minute later without the background noise. “Sorry. What?”

  “Is Min with you? I’m trying to make sure that wherever I go next, she won’t be.” He frowned. “She’s driving me to incoherence.”

  “She’s stalking you?” Tony said, sounding skeptical.

  “No, she doesn’t want it, either,” Cal said. “It’s like we’re stuck inside a box. We try to go our separate ways and then we end up with each other anyway. You’re not going to Emilio’s, are you?”

  “Chaos theory,” Tony said. “Min’s a strange attractor.”

  “This is true,” Cal said. “Are you going to Emilio’s tonight, or can I go eat in the kitchen there?”

  “You can go,” Tony said. “Seriously, the box you’re talking about is the field of your attraction. You and Min try to get away and you hit the sides of the box at random because you’re unstable, never repeating, but making a pattern.”

  “Good for us,” Cal said. “Just keep Min away from Emilio’s, will you? I’m starving.”

  “I think she and Liza are going someplace,” Tony said. “They’ve been talking all night about some job Min wants Liza to take, and I think Min’s going to drag her there to show it to her. Unless Emilio’s been advertising for help, it’s not there.”

  “He hasn’t,” Cal said. “He’s full up on nephews. Thanks, Tony. I’ll see you tomorrow.”