Bet Me

“No,” Bonnie said. “The only illogical thing you have to do is believe. After that, you need brains.”

  “Oh, good,” Min said. “Brains, I got. Leap of faith, taken. Plan, still in the works.”

  Bonnie nodded again. “Can you sleep now?”

  “Uh huh,” Min said, tearing up again. “Why can’t I stop crying?”

  “When was the last time you cried?” Bonnie said.

  “I can’t remember,” Min said.

  “When was the last time you cared enough to cry?” Bonnie said.

  “I can’t remember that, either,” Min said, appalled.

  “So you’ve got some catching up to do,” Bonnie said, standing up. “I have to go downstairs and sleep with a bear.”

  Min gave her a watery grin. “Do not expect me to feel sorry for you because you’ve got Roger.”

  “I don’t,” Bonnie said airily. “I expect you to envy me beyond measure.”

  “I do,” Min said, thinking of the man she’d left enraged in the moonlight. “But I want Cal.”

  Cal didn’t call, and that was all right, Min told herself, because she’d see him at the rehearsal dinner since he hadn’t called to cancel, plus she didn’t have time to think about him with the wedding only four days away, especially since she found herself fielding a dozen calls a day from her increasingly frantic sister, and anyway she was better off without him as a distraction.

  She missed him.

  Sunday, she kept telling herself, on Sunday this will all be over, Diana will be married, and I can fix my own life then. The only part she wasn’t sure about was the “Diana will be married,” but since Diana was insistent that her romance was a fairy tale, there wasn’t much Min could do besides hold her hand, make supportive noises, and listen. So she propped Diana up, went to the If Dinner on Thursday night and brought the rest of the hand-packed quarts of ice cream that Cal had given her, told Liza there was no need to apologize for making Cal sing since their fight had been inevitable, and tried to figure out a way to make things right without actually talking to him or seeing him.

  But on Saturday morning, she had to go to baseball for Harry, so she put on her newest sandals—clear plastic mules with French heels and cherries on the toes—and got to the park a couple of minutes after the game started. She found a seat to one side, trying to stay inconspicuous and wave to Harry at the same time, but Bink saw her and motioned her up. Min smiled at her and then realized that the man sitting next to her wasn’t just a miscellaneous father, he was Reynolds. Cynthie was on Bink’s other side, wedged in next to another parent, which meant Min was going to be stuck sitting beside Reynolds. This has to be payback for something, she thought, and climbed to the top and sat down.

  “So how we doing?” she asked him.

  “These kids can’t play,” Reynolds said, shaking his head. “No discipline.”

  “Well, you know, they’re eight,” Min said.

  “Discipline starts young,” Reynolds said, looking at her with contempt, and Min thought, There goes our chance at bonding.

  Down on the field, Bentley bobbled a catch and the ball rolled over to Harry, who picked it up and threw it in the general direction of a base he thought might be appropriate.

  “Oh, God, Harry,” Reynolds said loudly.

  Min saw Cal off to one side of the field and felt her stomach lurch. Ridiculous, she told herself and swallowed hard. He spread his arms out at Harry as if to say, What? and Harry shrugged and crouched down again. Cal shook his head but Min could tell from the set of his shoulders that he wasn’t mad. When he turned around he was grinning, and then he caught sight of her and his grin vanished, and she felt the rejection in the pit of her stomach.

  Oh, ouch, she thought and looked away to the dugout where Tony was eating a hot dog and shaking his head, and Liza was sitting next to him with her chin on her hand. Down at the bottom of the bleachers, Bonnie was keeping some kind of tally for Roger who would use it to explain to the kids later the importance of something or other. Lucky kids, she thought and wished she were down there with Bonnie, or with Liza, or better yet, shoe shopping somewhere. Anywhere but here, looking at what she couldn’t have. Or didn’t have the guts to go after. Same thing, really.

  Throughout the rest of the game, Reynolds continued to express his disgust at the general ineptness of the team in general, winning no friends among the parents in the bleachers, and making an already jittery Min long to hit him with something. Bink grew more and more owl-like, and Min wondered why she put up with him. I’d have left his ass a long time ago.

  Down on the field, Harry came up to bat. He looked up at them, and Min waved to him, smiling. He pounded his bat on the ground a couple of times and then put it on his shoulder, dead serious. And when the pitch came, he missed it by a mile.

  “Come on, Harry,” Reynolds yelled. “You can do better than that. You’re not trying.”

  Shut up, Reynolds, Min thought.

  Down on the field, Harry’s shoulders hunched a little, and up in the bleachers, Bink grew even stiller.

  Harry fanned the next one, too, and Reynolds yelled, “Concentrate, Harrison! You can’t swing at anything like a dummy. Think,” and Min saw Cal look up at his brother, his face set.

  Might want to ease back on that, Reynolds, Min thought, and then Harry stiffened up and swung at a pitch that was so bad it didn’t even cross the plate, and Reynolds stood up and yelled, “Harry, that was stupid, damn it, can’t you do anything right?,” and Harry froze, his little shoulders rigid, and Cal left the field, coming straight for his brother, murder in his eyes.

  “No, no,” Min said, panicking as Cal hit the bleachers. She stood up and stepped in front of Reynolds and hit him hard on the arm with her fist.

  “Hey!” Reynolds said, grabbing his arm.

  “You miserable excuse for a parent,” she said to him under her breath. “You do not humiliate your kid like that.” She raised her voice and yelled, “Harry is really smart, he’s always smart,” and then she whispered, “But you are the dumbest son of a bitch I have ever seen in my life.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Reynolds said, outraged.

  “It’s not my pardon you need, you miserable butthead,” Min whispered, leaning closer. “It’s your kid’s, the one you just humiliated in front of all his friends, and if you think that made you look good to anybody here, your head really is up your butt.”

  “You’re out of line,” Reynolds said, but he looked wary now, darting a glance at the other parents, who were clearly not amused. He shook his head, trying for bluster. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “Well, for starters, she’s the woman who just saved your ass,” Cal said from behind her. “Because I was going to throw it off the bleachers until she got in my way.”

  “You,” Reynolds said, looking past Min. “Like you could do anything about it. You can’t even coach these kids—”

  “Oh, give it up,” Min said. “You know you screwed up, and the best you can do is blame your brother?”

  “Listen,” Reynolds said, raising a finger. “You are not—”

  “You know, Reynolds,” Cal said. “When you get home, you’re going to figure out that you just gave your kid the same kind of flashback you and I have been having all our lives. And while you are a butthead, you’re not a mean butthead, so that should give you some good nightmares about your parenting skills. In the meantime, you’re picking a fight with somebody who takes no prisoners. I’d back away slowly if I were you.”

  “We’re going home,” Bink said.

  “I don’t see why—” Reynolds began and then Bink looked at him, her gray eyes steely cold.

  “We,” she said, “are going home where we will discuss this. Min, will you and Cal see that Harry gets home safely?”

  “Yes,” Cal said from behind her, and Min nodded, shaking now that the first adrenaline rush had passed. She stepped sideways, back to her own seat, feeling incredibly rash, not to mention rude, and when she turned and sat
down, Cal had already started back down the bleachers, Reynolds and Bink following him.

  Out on the field, Harry had his back to them, but Tony was talking to him, so that was all right. Of course, Tony was probably telling him that his father was a jerk, but as far as Min was concerned, that was all right, too.

  She glanced over at Cynthie, who looked thoughtful. “Hi,” Min said, taking a deep breath. “Enjoy the show?”

  “I wouldn’t have done it,” Cynthie said, “but good for you anyway. You have more guts than I have.”

  “It wasn’t guts,” Min said. “I probably overreacted.”

  “No,” Cynthie said. “Cal overreacted, but he couldn’t help it. Reynolds played that family script and it makes Cal insane. He can’t stand being called stupid.”

  “They get that a lot when they were kids?” Min said.

  “I think they both had lousier childhoods than we can imagine,” Cynthie said. “That doesn’t mean you get to hit your brother in front of your nephew.”

  “He probably wouldn’t have,” Min said.

  “I don’t know,” Cynthie said. “But now you’re the bad guy for the family, not him. So you did him a favor there.”

  “I was already the bad guy,” Min said. “His parents hated me.”

  “I don’t think they like anybody much,” Cynthie said. “They’re very self-absorbed people. Not cruel. They just don’t pay attention.”

  “So,” Min said. “You’re the psychologist, right? What do we do for Harry?”

  “Cal will take care of it,” Cynthie said, nodding down at the field, where Harry and Cal were now sitting in the dugout. She tilted her head at Min. “It was doubly bad because you were here, you know. Harry has such a crush on you that to be embarrassed like that . . .” She shook her head and sighed. “You’re right. Reynolds is a butthead.”

  “Is that the clinical term?” Min said.

  “In Reynolds’s case, yes,” Cynthie said.

  Down in the dugout, Tony sat down next to Liza and said, “You know, I used to think that if I was ever in a bar fight, I’d want you backing me up, but I think Min just moved ahead of you in the ranking.”

  “I wouldn’t cross her,” Lisa said. “That man is a complete loss.”

  “Yeah,” Tony said, his eyes on the field. “But Harry’ll be okay. He has Cal and Bink and Min on his side. I’d take that team any day. Christ, look at that.” He raised his voice. “Hey, Soames, look where you’re throwing the ball.” He shook his head but kept watching Soames anyway, ready to help.

  That was Tony all over, Liza thought. He acted like a big lug but if anybody needed him, he was there.

  She was really going to miss him.

  “Tony,” she said as he bit into his hot dog, waiting until he was eating on the theory that it would soften the blow. “We are not going to work out.”

  “What was your first clue?” Tony said around his hot dog, his eyes still on the field.

  Liza let out her breath in relief. “It’s not that you’re not a great guy—”

  “I know.” Tony swallowed and bit into his sandwich again. Out on the field, a kid bobbled a catch, and he closed his eyes. “Jesus.”

  “We just got caught up in that threesome thing,” Liza said, and Tony stopped chewing and looked at her. “I mean, the three of us, the three of you. You know.”

  “Right.” Tony resumed chewing and watching the field.

  “Bonnie and Roger,” Liza said, “that’s a little spooky, but Bonnie doesn’t make mistakes.”

  Tony swallowed. “Neither does Roger. They’ll be okay.”

  Liza nodded. “And Min and Cal . . . well, I don’t know, but he’s not taking her for a ride, so I’m butting out of that one.”

  “Good.” Tony took another bite, squinting at the field.

  “But you and I are toast,” Liza finished.

  “Yep.” Tony shook his head at the field. “That kid has no arm.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re taking this so well,” Liza said, annoyed.

  Tony shrugged. “I like you, but you’re always charging someplace, creating disturbance, and I like my stability.”

  “Chaos theory,” Liza said.

  “Yep,” Tony said. “Disturbed systems move to a higher order or disintegrate. We disintegrated. Also, you hate sports. Big deal. Nobody’s mad. What’s not to take?”

  “Then why didn’t you end it?” Liza said, annoyed.

  “I liked the sex. Oh, hell.” Tony scowled at the field where a hapless child had just missed a grounder. “You know, some kids should not play baseball.”

  “Actually, I liked the sex, too,” Liza said, thinking about it.

  “Anytime,” Tony said. “Now that’s an arm.” He lifted his chin and shouted, “Nice one, Jessica!”

  Jessica waved back at him and then forgot Tony and crouched down, waiting for whatever came next.

  Jessica is no dummy, Liza thought. “I do like you,” she told Tony, and he looked at her and grinned.

  “I like you, too, babe,” he said. “If you ever need a guy beat up, call me.”

  “Thank you,” Liza said, touched. “If you ever need a woman slapped, you have my number.”

  “Really?” Tony perked up a little. “Can I watch?”

  “And this is why we’re no longer having sex,” Liza said. “So you’re okay?”

  “Yes,” Tony said, and then yelled, “No, no, no,” at the field.

  Liza stood up and kissed him on the top of the head. “Don’t be mean to these kids,” she told him before she left him. “They’re going to grow up to own the companies you’ll be working for.”

  A few minutes before the game ended, Min went down to the fence where Cal was leaning on the dugout. She stood there for a minute, not sure what to do, and then she cleared her throat.

  “That was good, what you said to Reynolds,” she said, hooking her fingers in the chain link. “Really good.”

  Cal looked out at the field.

  Look at me, damn it, Min thought, and searched for something that would get his attention. “And . . . really hot,” she lied, and swallowed hard. “I was very turned on. If there hadn’t been so many people here, I’d have done you in the dugout.”

  Cal stood very still and then turned to her, his face still wooden.

  Uh oh, she thought.

  “Give me five minutes,” he said. “I’ll clear the place.”

  Min exhaled in relief. “You had me worried.”

  “Sorry.” Cal walked over to her and leaned on the fence to talk to her, looping his fingers through the chain link so they touched hers. “That was a bad flashback.”

  “Your dad.” Min crossed her fingers over his because touching him again felt so right. “I got that. Is Harry okay?”

  “No,” Cal said. “But he’ll live.”

  “I don’t know if Reynolds will,” Min said. “Bink looked like the Angel of Death.”

  “His ass is grass,” Cal said. “Doesn’t help Harry much.”

  “Why did she marry him?” Min blurted. “I’m sorry, but—”

  “He blinded her with charm.” Cal smiled at her tightly. “He met her in college and took one look at her money and threw everything he had at her. She never had a chance.”

  Min thought of Bink, probably a frightened little owl in college, running into the glamorous and gorgeous Reynolds. “Why does she stay?”

  “Because he loves her now,” Cal said. “Harry’s birth changed him. He’s a lot better than he used to be.”

  “Damn,” Min said. “What was he before?”

  “A charming bastard,” Cal said, his face grim again as he looked down at her. “Just like all the Morriseys.”

  “That’s not you,” Min said.

  “Oh, honey, it is sometimes,” Cal said miserably. “More than you know.”

  “I’ve never seen it,” Min said.

  “That’s because I wasn’t a bastard with you,” Cal said. “You beat that out of me early.”

&
nbsp; Min grinned. “Well, you asked for it, Charm Boy.”

  “Thanks for coming down here,” he said softly, and then Tony called him and he went back to the field.

  Min went to sit beside Bonnie, and it wasn’t until Bonnie reached over and covered Min’s hands with hers that she realized she was shaking.

  “How’s it going there?” Bonnie said.

  “This fairy tale thing,” Min said. “It’s not for kids.”

  Min went out to the parking lot after the game and found Harry in the backseat of Cal’s car, and Cal leaning against the passenger door, waiting for her. Don’t lunge for him, she told herself. Harry will notice.

  “How are we doing?” she said.

  “We’re going to have lunch,” Cal said, straightening. “And hear a lot of Elvis because thanks to you, that’s now Harry’s favorite music.” He opened the car door for her.

  “That’s because Harry has great taste,” Min said, sticking her chin out. She got in the car and said, “Hey, fish guy, I hear we’re going to the diner for lunch. All Elvis, all the time.”

  Harry nodded.

  “If I were you, I’d ask for processed meats,” Min said. “In fact, ask for a brat. Milk this sucker for everything you can get.”

  Harry looked surprised and then he nodded.

  “Ready, Harry?” Cal said as he got in.

  Harry nodded at him, soberly. “May I have a brat for lunch?”

  “What?” Cal said and turned to look at him.

  Harry peered back, woebegone.

  “Minerva,” Cal said, looking straight into her eyes. “You’re corrupting my nephew.”

  “Me?” Min lost her breath and smiled at him. “No, no. It’s just that Americans eat twenty billion hot dogs a year and I think Harry should have one of them.”

  “Yeah,” Harry said from the backseat.

  “Twenty billion,” Cal said and started to laugh, and Min relaxed a little.

  When they were on the road, Min looked over the seat at Harry. “So what’s new in the world of fish?”

  “Are you wearing those fish shoes?” Harry said.

  “No,” Min said. “I found another shoe sale. I am wearing glass slippers with cherries on the toes.”

  Cal looked down at her feet. “They’re okay,” he said after a moment. “But they’re not fish.”