Bet Me

  “What makes you so sure I’m going to leave you?” Cal said, his voice sharp.

  “Because that’s what you do. You always leave. Are you going to promise me right now that you’ll stay forever?”

  “I’ve known you three weeks,” Cal said. “That’d be a little impulsive, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” Min said. “So why the full court press? Why the perfect shoes and the perfect song and . . .” She shook her head, helpless. “I told you we should start as friends, I told you—”

  “You want more than friends,” Cal said flatly. “That’s the dumbest line you ever pulled on me.”

  “Look, I’m not ready for you,” Min said. “I’m not prepared. I don’t have any defenses when you’re around. I make these plans and I mean it, I really do, and then I kiss you because I’m crazy about you which would be fine if I didn’t fall in love with you but there that is, just standing there, and you know it, you know you’ve got me.” She stopped because she was sounding hysterical.

  “All right,” Cal said, setting his jaw. “Maybe we—”

  “I need to go home,” Min said.

  “All right,” Cal said again. “We can—”

  “No,” Min said. “Diana will be out to find me in a minute and she’ll walk me. We’ll walk each other.”

  “Min,” Cal said.

  “I just wasn’t expecting that song,” Min said. “Not the way you sang it.”

  “Neither was I,” Cal said grimly.

  “I know,” Min said. “I could see it in your eyes. You didn’t mean it.”

  “Of course I meant it,” Cal snapped, as Diana came out into the street. “I just didn’t know I meant it until I sang it. Fucking Elvis and his love songs.”

  “Well, that’s the thing about Elvis,” Min said, finally losing her temper. “You make all the fun you want of the fried bananas and the sequined jumpsuits, but he never lied when he sang, he always meant it. There weren’t any damn secrets—”

  “What secrets?” Cal said.

  “—and there weren’t any damn lies. So the next time you want to snow somebody, don’t channel Elvis.”

  Min turned away and started off down the street, making her heels click on the pavement like a backbeat.

  “You know, all I wanted was a little peace and quiet,” Cal yelled after her. “But no, I had to get you.”

  Diana hurried behind her to catch up.

  “Why are you upset?” Diana said when she was beside Min. She looked back over her shoulder at Cal. “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know,” Min said and walked faster.

  “What’s wrong?” Diana said.

  Min stopped. “I’ll tell you if you tell me what’s wrong with you and Greg.”

  Diana bit her lip. “You first.”

  “The first night Cal picked me up?” Min said.

  Di nodded.

  “He did it because David bet him ten bucks he couldn’t get me into bed in a month,” Min said.

  “No, he didn’t,” Diana said, positive. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “I heard him, Di,” Min said. “He did it. And I know there’s more there now, but I’ve only known him three weeks, and I’m already lost whenever he’s around, and it’s just too big a gamble. He’s just . . . he leaves women all the time. Greg was right about that. I don’t want to be in a place where I’ll die if he leaves me because he’s going to leave me.” She felt tears start and blinked them back. “And then the son of a bitch sings to me like that, and I just . . . He’s just too . . .”

  “Dangerous,” Di said. “That’s why I picked Greg. I knew he’d never be dangerous.”

  “What happened?” Min said.

  “I don’t think he wants to get married anymore,” Di said, and Min heard the tears in her voice. “I asked him, I told him if he wasn’t ready we could postpone it, but he keeps saying he’s ready, he wants to, and I think it’s just because he can’t stand disappointing everybody but he’s—”

  “What are you guys doing?” Tony said, coming up out of the dark and scaring them both into shrieks. “Standing around waiting to get mugged?”

  “And now our wait is over?” Min said, trying to get her breath back.

  “Cal sent me,” Tony said. “He doesn’t like you walking home alone. So you get me.”

  “You don’t have to,” Min said.

  “Are you kidding? I’m with two hot women in the dark,” Tony said. “By the time I’m finished retelling this in my head, it’s going to be phenomenal.”

  “Is he joking?” Di said to Min.

  “I don’t think so,” Min said. “Could you picture me about twenty pounds lighter in this fantasy?”

  “No,” Tony said. “I’m picturing you just the way you are, babe. Don’t tell Cal or he’ll break my teeth.”

  “Your teeth are safe,” Min said, and began to walk again.

  “So what would we be doing in this fantasy?” Di said to Tony as they fell into step beside Min.

  “Well, first we’d read a good book because I know that classy women like you go for guys who read,” Tony said.

  Min took his arm. “Thank you for walking us home.”

  “Anything for you, kid,” Tony said, patting her hand, and then he went on with his fantasy, and Min held on to him and tried not to think about what she was walking away from.

  Back in the restaurant, David looked at Cynthie triumphantly and said, “We did that.”

  “No,” Cynthie said, her face white. “That wasn’t us.”

  “Min was jealous,” David said, feeling better than he had in weeks. “And then Cal made a fool of himself with that stupid song and embarrassed her. You were right about us . . .” He waved his hand and added silently, . . . having the best sex in the history of the world. God, I’m good.

  “I wish that were true,” Cynthie said, still staring at the door.

  “You know they’re out there fighting,” David said. “Why aren’t you happy?”

  “There’s a certain kind of fight that is . . . a relationship adjustment,” Cynthie said, her voice dull. “You fight, and then reconcile and move closer together. And then fight again, and reconcile. Each time there’s a compromise. Each time you grow closer.”

  “Fighting is good?” David said. “That’s nonsense.”

  “What’s the best kind of sex there is, David?” Cynthie said. “Make-up sex. It’s because you’ve come back even closer. If it’s the right kind of fight. You’re going to have to move fast if she truly is upset with him.”

  “I’ll call her tomorrow,” David promised. “She’s emotional right now. Better to let her calm down.”

  Cynthie looked back at the door. “All right. Be careful.”

  “Stop it,” David said, covering her hand with his. “We won.”

  Cynthie shook her head. “Nobody won tonight.”

  Later that night, after Min and Diana had folded two hundred cake boxes and talked about the wedding but not Greg or Cal, Diana went to bed, and Min sat alone on the couch with Elvis in her lap, and tried to figure out where she’d gone wrong. Maybe if she hadn’t said yes to that picnic in the park, if she hadn’t kissed him back, if he hadn’t kissed her at all, if she hadn’t met Harry. Definitely before she met Harry. Maybe if she hadn’t thought she was so damn smart that she could play David and Cal in the beginning. Maybe if she’d had enough sense not to cross the damn bar in the first place, if she’d looked at him and known nothing good could come of him and had never overheard that damn bet. It was hard to pinpoint exactly where she’d moved past reckless and into insanity, but she kept thinking if she could just figure out where she’d gone wrong, she’d understand what happened, and then she’d be done with it—

  Somebody knocked on the door, and when Min opened it, Bonnie was standing there in her chenille robe holding a teapot. “I made cocoa,” she said, and Min felt the tears start. “Oh, baby,” Bonnie said and came in, putting her arm around Min, balancing the c
ocoa pot in her other hand. “Come on. We just need to talk about it.”

  “I thought I was so smart,” Min said, fighting to keep her voice steady. She took a shuddery breath. “I kept thinking I had it all under control.”

  “I thought you did pretty well,” Bonnie said, putting the cocoa pot down on the sewing machine table. She took a cup out of each pocket, and Min laughed at her through her tears.

  “Where’s Roger?” Min said. “I don’t—”

  “He’s asleep downstairs,” Bonnie said, picking up the pot. “He’s worried about you, but it gets to be midnight and he clonks right out for a solid eight hours.”

  Min laughed again and then sniffed. “If I’d had any brains, I’d have grabbed Roger that first night.”

  “Roger would bore you to tears,” Bonnie said, handing her a filled cup. “Just like I’d have shoved Cal under a bus by now.”

  “You would have?” Min sniffed again.

  “Oh, please, that master of the universe act?” Bonnie said. “That’s one scared man you’ve got there. I don’t have the time for that. I want kids, I don’t want to marry one.”

  “He’s a good guy, Bon.” Min sipped her cocoa and began to feel better.

  “I know,” Bonnie said. “And some day he’ll grow up and be a good man. In the meantime, he broke your heart so I’m mad at him.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Min said. “He tried not to be with me.”

  “No, he didn’t.” Bonnie sat down next to her on the couch with her own cup. “He had every opportunity in the world to get away from you and he passed up every one of them to be with you.”

  “That’s because he couldn’t charm me,” Min said. “It wasn’t—”

  “Oh, stop being such a baby,” Bonnie said, and Min jerked her head up and startled Elvis. “Well, listen to yourself. You’re miserable, but it’s not his fault and it’s not your fault. Well, screw that.”

  “Bonnie” Min said, scandalized.

  “What do you want, Min?” Bonnie said. “If life were a fairy tale, if there truly was a happy ending, what would you want?”

  “I’d want Cal,” Min said, feeling ashamed even as she said it. “I know that’s—”

  “Don’t,” Bonnie said, holding up her hand. “Why do you want him?”

  “Oh, because he was fun,” Min said, smiling as she blinked the tears away because she was so shallow. “He was so much fun, Bonnie. And he made me feel wonderful. I was never fat when I was with Cal.”

  “You’re never fat when you’re with Liza and me,” Bonnie said.

  “I know,” Min said. “He was almost like you except I couldn’t trust him and he really turned me on.”

  “Maybe that’s why he turned you on,” Bonnie said. “Somebody you couldn’t handle.”

  “Yeah.” Min let her head drop back against the couch. “He was exciting. I never knew what was coming next. And neither did he. We fed off each other. What dummies we were.”

  “I wouldn’t rush to use the past tense,” Bonnie said. “So back to the fairy tale. Tell me your happily ever after.”

  “I don’t have one,” Min said. “Which is why I’ll never get one.”

  “Mine,” Bonnie said, “is that I marry Roger, and we have four kids. We live in a nice house in one of the suburbs with good schools, but not one where everybody wears plaid.”

  “Makes sense,” Min said, and sipped her cocoa again.

  “I’m a stay-at-home mom,” Bonnie said, “but I do keep a few clients, my favorite clients, and I watch their portfolios like a hawk so I don’t lose my edge. And word gets out, and as the kids get older, I add to my client list because there are so many people who are dying to get me.”

  “That’s not a fairy tale,” Min said, putting her cocoa cup down. “That can all happen.”

  “And our house,” Bonnie said, as if she hadn’t heard, “becomes the place everybody comes home to, for the holidays and everybody’s birthdays, everybody comes to us. And we have these big dinners and everybody sits around the table and we’re family by choice. And you and Liza and Cal and Tony are all godparents to our kids, and every time there’s a big school thing, you all come out and cheer our kids on—”

  “I’ll be there,” Min said, trying not to cry.

  “—and none of us will ever be alone because we’ll have each other,” Bonnie said. “You’re going to like my grandchildren, Min. We’re going to take them shoe shopping.”

  “Oh, Bonnie,” Min said and put her head down on the couch cushion and howled, while Bonnie stroked her hair and drank her chocolate.

  When Min had subsided to a few gasping, shuddering sobs, Bonnie said calmly, “Now you.”

  “I can’t,” Min said.

  “Well, you’re gonna,” Bonnie said. “It starts with Cal, right?”

  “Why?” Min sat up and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Why does it always have to start with some guy?”

  “Because it’s a fairy tale,” Bonnie said. “It all starts with the prince. Or if you’re Shanna, with the princess, but still. It starts with the big risk. You’re all alone sitting on a tuffet, on in your case, an Aeron, and this guy rides up and there it is, your whole future right there before you—”

  “What if he’s the wrong one?” Min said. “Accepting for the moment, which I don’t, that the whole thing starts with the prince, how do you tell the prince from—”

  “The beast?” Bonnie said. “Honey, they’re all beasts.”

  “Roger isn’t,” Min said.

  “Oh, please,” Bonnie said. “He’s down there snoring like a bear now,” and Min laughed in spite of her tears. “You really think Cal’s a mistake?”

  Min swallowed. “Well, logically—”

  “Do not make me dump my cocoa on you,” Bonnie said.

  “I don’t have anything else to go on,” Min said. “How am I supposed to know?”

  “Tell me your fairy tale,” Bonnie said. “It’s just between you and me, nobody else will ever know. If you could have anything you wanted, no explanations, no logic, just anything you—”

  “Cal,” Min said. “I know that’s stup—”

  “Stop it,” Bonnie said. “God, you can’t even dream without qualifiers. Tell me your fairy tale.”

  Min felt the tears start again, and she gathered Elvis up and petted him to distract herself. “It’s Cal. And he loves me, so much that he can’t stand it, as much as I love him. And, uh,” she gulped back tears, “we, uh, we find this great house, here in the city, maybe on this street, one of the old bungalows like the one my grandma used to live in. I’d like that. With a yard so Elvis could stalk things. And maybe a dog, because I like dogs.”

  Bonnie nodded, and Min sniffed again.

  “And I keep working because I like my work, and so does Cal because he loves what he does.” She sighed. “And sometimes he calls me up and says, ‘Minnie, I’ve been thinking about you, meet me at home in twenty minutes’ and I do and we make love and it’s wonderful, right in the middle of the day . . .” She stopped to sniff and Bonnie nodded.

  “And sometimes we go to Emilio’s, we meet all you guys at Emilio’s, like every Wednesday, we all meet, and we laugh and catch up on what’s happening, and when you and Roger have your kids, Emilio adds more tables, and he and his wife and kids eat, too, and Brian serves us, and sometimes we go out to your house . . .”

  Bonnie smiled and nodded.

  “. . . and the guys watch the game and hoot and moan, and you and I and Liza and Emilio’s wife sit out in the kitchen and eat chocolate and talk about all the things we’ve done and they’ve done and laugh. . . .” Min took another deep breath and realized she was still crying.

  “And then Cal and I go home,” she said, her voice breaking, “and it’s just the two of us, and we laugh some more and hold each other and eat and make love and watch dumb movies and just . . . be with each other. We just feel good because we’re with each other.” She wiped her eyes again. “That’s all I’d need. Th
e two of us, talking and cooking and laughing. It’s so simple.”

  She took a deep shuddering breath and met Bonnie’s eyes. “I can have that, can’t I?”

  “Yes,” Bonnie said.

  “But only if Cal is who I need him to be,” Min said.

  Bonnie nodded.

  “So I just have to trust that he’s who I think he is and not who he thinks he is,” Min said.

  “Big gamble,” Bonnie said.

  “Do you ever wonder what happened after the happily ever after?” Min said. “After the wedding was over and the townspeople went home, and they finished opening all the stuff that was monogrammed with a gold crown? Because the story’s over then. All the questing and the courting and the trauma. From then on it’s just sitting around the castle, polishing all the toasters they got for wedding gifts.”

  “That would pretty much depend on the prince,” Bonnie said. “I can see David polishing a lot of toasters.”

  Min laughed in spite of herself.

  “But Tony would hot wire them all together and calibrate them so they’d shoot toast at varying intervals,” Bonnie said and Min laughed harder.

  “And Cal would bet on it,” Min said, smiling and crying at the same time now, “but only after he’d seen Tony shoot the toasters a thousand times and calculated the odds.”

  “And Roger would put out stakes and yellow tape so that nobody got hit by flying bread,” Bonnie said with affection.

  “And Liza would figure out how to make the whole thing pay,” Min said. “And you’d make sure Tony bought the bread at cost and invested the profits wisely.”

  “And you’d look at the whole thing and gauge the risk and tell us what we’d missed,” Bonnie said.

  “You know this toaster thing might be worth looking into,” Min said. “Tony’s nuts, but his ideas are always good.”

  Bonnie nodded.

  Min bit her lip and swallowed more tears. “I want the fairy tale.”

  “Okay,” Bonnie said. “Now all you have to do is figure out how.”

  “Yeah,” Min said. “I can do that. I just have to think it out.” She looked at Bonnie. “Are you going to dump cocoa on me?”