Bet Me

  “I have never said ‘Piece of cake’ in my life,” Cal said. “It’s a stupid thing to say.” He took a deep breath and thought, Fuck it. “How stupid do you think I am?” he said savagely, and Min froze. “How stupid does everybody think I am?”

  “Not stupid,” she said, watching him warily now. “What’s going on?”

  “They all thought I’d made that bet with a sleaze like David.” Cal shook his head at the breadth of her betrayal. “Because you told them I made that bet. And they watched you play me, and like a fool I fell for it.”

  “You did make it,” Min said, but she sounded uncertain. “Look, I didn’t think you were stupid, I thought you were . . . awful. But then you weren’t awful so I . . . Where is this coming from? You know how I feel about you. I love you. The bet doesn’t matter—”

  “It doesn’t matter?” Cal said. “How stupid are you?”

  “Hey,” Min said, her face darkening. “Okay, look, I know this is pushing all your buttons, but get a grip. I love you, you know I love you, but I don’t have time to baby-sit you right now—”

  “Baby-sit me?” Cal clenched his jaw to keep from screaming at her, because she’d betrayed him and because he still wanted her, desperately. Get out of this, he thought, and said, “Well, you’ll never have to baby-sit me again.”

  “What?” Then she started to nod, her face twisted in anger. “Oh. I get it. Of course. You’re running. You bastard. You got what you wanted, I said ‘I love you,’ the game is over, and now you’re out the door. I knew you’d do this. I knew you’d do this.”

  “This is not about me,” Cal said, not meeting her eyes.

  “Oh, please,” Min snapped. “This is all about you. One hundred percent of your relationships end with you running away. This is you grabbing any excuse to get—”

  “Hey,” Tony said, and they both turned to see him standing in the doorway, looking madder than Cal had ever seen him. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, but whatever it is, it’s not as important as what that kid in there is going through. You’ve got the rest of your lives to fight, she needs you now.”

  “Tell Min I didn’t make that damn bet with David to have sex with her,” Cal said.

  Tony looked at Min, exasperated. “He didn’t make that bet.”

  “I heard him make the bet,” Min said. “David said that he’d have to get the gray-checked suit into bed in a month and he said, Piece of . . . cake.’ ” She looked from Tony to Cal. “Oh.”

  “I said ‘Piece of cake,’ ” Tony said. “I was wrong. I don’t care. Fight about it later. Right now, get your ass back in there and help your sister. Your mother took her champagne away because it has too many calories, and that damn bridesmaid in the green dress keeps laughing.”

  “You’re right,” Min said, stepping toward the door. “But we won’t be fighting about it later because Calvin has decided it’s time to go.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Tony said, looking at them both with contempt. “You two are the biggest babies I’ve ever seen.”

  “What?” Min said, stopping.

  “Here’s the short version,” Tony said to Min. “You’re a man-hating bitch and he’s a woman-fearing coward.” He looked at Cal. “Get over that, will you?”

  “The hell with both of you,” Min said and went back to her sister, as Cal turned on Tony.

  “They’re all like that,” Nanette was saying to Di when Min got back to them, seething. “You can’t trust any of them.” She gestured with the champagne glass she was holding. “They tell you they love you and then—”

  Min grabbed the glass out of her hand. “Here,” she said, handing it to Di. “We’re drinking about twelve bottles of this tonight, so get started.”

  “Do you know how many calories—” Nanette began.

  “Listen, you,” Min said to her. “You’re going home and throwing out every damn fashion magazine in the house. You’re going cold turkey, it’s the only thing that’s going to save you.”

  Nanette straightened. “Just because you won’t lose the weight, doesn’t mean Diana has to be fat.”

  “I’m not fat, Mother,” Min said. “But while we’re on the subject, I don’t see where not eating for fifty-five years has made you particularly happy. Go home and eat something, for Christ’s sake.” She looked around. “Where are those goddamn cake boxes?”

  “I’ll get them,” Roger said, and went fast.

  “I think that’s very sensible,” Wet said, beaming at Min.

  “And you,” Min said. “Go someplace else and gloat. In fact, go find Greg. You deserve each other. He’s a selfish bastard and you love to be beat.”

  “That’s not fair,” Wet said, back to her familiar whine.

  “Hit the road, Wet,” Liza said. “You’ve been laughing ever since you stopped hitting Worse. If you’re not going to be a comfort, have the decency to be an empty space.”

  “Well, at least I’m not Tart,” Wet said and stalked off.

  “Did she just call me a tart?” Liza said to Bonnie.

  Min sat down next to Diana in Wet’s vacated chair.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said, taking her hand. “We’re going to get those cake boxes and a case of the champagne, and we’re going back to my place.”

  “Okay,” Diana said, her voice breaking again.

  “And we’re going to eat cake and get drunk,” Min said.

  “Oh, Min,” Nanette said. “It’ll take you weeks to work off those calories.”

  Min looked at her mother for a moment and thought, This is what Diana lives with every damn day. “And then,” she said to Diana, “since you have the week off for your honeymoon, I’m going to take the week off, too, and we’re going to go house-hunting.”

  Diana stopped crying. “House-hunting?”

  “Yes,” Min said. “I’m going to buy a great two bedroom Arts and Crafts bungalow. And you’re going to move in with me.”

  “I am?” Diana said, sitting up a little.

  “Yes,” Min said. “You’ve lived with the calorie police for too long.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Nanette said. “She is not going to move.”

  “But there are some rules,” Min said, and Diana swallowed and nodded. “There will always be butter in the refrigerator. There will be no sound tracks from Julia Roberts movies. And from now on,” she said, looking toward the door where Cal was glaring at Tony, “we only date ugly men.”

  Diana was nodding at Min. “And I’ll get out of the way on Thursday nights.”

  “Why?” Min said, mystified.

  “So you guys can have your If Dinner,” she said, and Min realized that the worst thing that had happened to Di wasn’t that she’d lost Greg, it was that she’d lost her best friends. She thought again of what it would be like if Bonnie and Liza had betrayed her, and she lost her breath at how far beyond horrible that would be.

  As bad as losing Cal.

  “You’ll come, too,” Bonnie said, putting her arm around Di.

  “Hell, yes,” Liza said, as Roger came back with a tray of cake boxes and the cake topper. She ripped the bride and groom off the cake top and put it in front of Diana and said, “Pay attention, Little Stats, we’re about to have a moment.” Diana looked up and Liza stomped on the head of the groom, shattering it into dust. “Now,” she said. “He is officially history. And if there’s a God, he has a splitting headache.”

  “I think you can count on that,” Roger said. “He got hit a lot.”

  “Good,” Liza said. “Now we’re going back to Min’s and get drunk.”

  Diana looked at Min through her tears. “Can I wear your bunny slippers?”

  “You can have my bunny slippers,” Min said, thinking of Cal in furious misery.

  She looked toward the door and saw him standing there, watching her, and then Tony was in her way, spreading out his hands, saying to Liza, “Nice job on the cake topper, ace. I suppose you had to kill the groom,” and Liza said, “
Defend him and die,” and Tony said, “No, he was an asshole even without the haircut,” and Diana laughed and then cried again.

  Out in the hall, Cal turned and Min saw Cynthie standing behind him. He stopped for a moment, and then he left, and Cynthie went with him.

  Right. You wouldn’t stay to help because it’s not about you, is it, buddy? Min thought and then shoved him out of her mind and turned back to Diana.

  “I’m a coward?” Cal had said to Tony when Min had gone, pleased to be fighting with somebody he could hit.

  “I can’t believe you’re running away from this one,” Tony said. “Hell, Cal, you’re thirty-five, aren’t you tired of that shit by now?”

  “You’re thirty-five, too,” Cal said grimly.

  “And I have never in my life looked at a woman the way you look at Min,” Tony said. “I’d be pissed at her, that all-men-are-pigs bit is a pain in the ass, but I’d tell her that, I wouldn’t walk away from her. What’s wrong with you?”

  “This is not about me,” Cal said.

  “Jesus,” Tony said and turned back to the ballroom.

  “Where are you going?” Cal said.

  Tony shook his head. “Back to where there’s real trouble. We’re all in there. Why aren’t you?”

  Then he walked away and Cal looked past him to where Min had her arms around Diana, and Bonnie was leaning close to them, and Roger was holding a tray of cake in one hand and patting Diana on the back with the other, and Liza was smashing something with her foot, and as Tony got closer, he spread his hands out, and Diana looked up and gave him a watery smile and Cal knew he was clowning again, doing his bit. Fuck, he thought. I should be in there. Then Min looked up and saw him, her face set and stormy, and he flinched and thought, The hell with you, and turned, furious and miserable to see Cynthie, looking lovelier than ever.

  “Are you all right?” she said.

  “No,” Cal said.

  She smiled at him. “I know a place we can get a drink.”

  “Where’s that?” Cal said.

  “My place,” Cynthie said.

  “Let’s go,” Cal said, and left, knowing Min was watching.

  Cal spent most of Monday fuming about what a bitch Min had been, and Tuesday wasn’t much better. It didn’t help that in the same two days, Cynthie had called twice to talk him into the drink he’d turned down when he’d dropped her off at her place, every client had become intensely stupid, and his partners kept looking at him as if he’d been drowning puppies. Worst of all, he missed Min so much, wanted her so much, that it was making him sick. The crowning touch to his day was his mother, calling him at work to find out if he was seeing Cynthie again.

  “No,” he said. “I’m never going to see her again, so get off my ass about her.”

  “Calvin,” his mother said, in a voice that would have stopped him cold any other day.

  “In fact,” he said, “since I’m such an overwhelming disappointment to you, I’m never going to see you again, either.”

  “Calvin?” his mother said, a new note in her voice.

  “Forget it,” Cal said, and hung up.

  Tony came over and unplugged his phone. “You get this back when you call her,” he said. “Until then, you don’t talk to people.”

  “I’m never calling her again,” Cal said. “She’s been a bitch my whole life and I’m done with her.”

  “Not your mother, you dumbass,” Tony said. “Min.”

  “She’s been a bitch for a month and I’m done with her, too,” Cal said. “The hell with both of them.”

  “That’s very mature,” Tony said, sounding just like Min.

  Roger shook his head and went back to work, and Cal ignored them both to savagely edit a seminar packet.

  When he got home, he threw his suit coat on the couch, picked up his Glenlivet and then stopped as Elvis began to sing “She” next door.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said and slammed the Glenlivet down.

  When he pounded on Shanna’s door, a strange woman answered, brown-haired, a little below medium height. “Oh,” he said. “I thought . . . Shanna . . .”

  “Oh, she’s here.” The woman smiled at him, a sweet smile that reminded him of Min, her eyes huge in her round face as she stepped back. “Shanna?”

  Cal looked past her to Shanna, carrying two ruby goblets out of the kitchen.

  “Cal!” she said, smiling. “This is Linda. Linda, this is my next-door neighbor, Cal.” Her smile widened and she jerked her head toward the stereo. “First date music.”

  “Oh,” Cal said, taking a step back. “Hell, I’m sorry . . .”

  “Don’t you just love Elvis?” Linda said.

  “Yeah,” Cal said. “Good for you, Shan. I’ll see you later.”

  “Stay for a drink,” Shanna said, with a look that telegraphed, Get lost.

  “Can’t stay,” Cal said. “I have to . . .” He jerked his head toward his apartment, at a loss for what he might have to do over there besides fume.

  “Is Min there?” Shanna said, putting the glasses down on the breakfast bar. “Maybe later we could—”

  “No,” Cal said, his rage back on the surface again. “Min is not there.”

  Shanna stopped, reading his face. “Oh, no. What did you do?”

  “Strangely enough, nothing,” Cal said. “Why do you assume—”

  “I don’t care,” Shanna said. “Get her back.”

  “It’s done,” Cal said.

  “No, it is not,” Shanna said. “You really lost something this time.”

  “This is not about me,” Cal said.

  “Yes, it is,” Shanna said. “This time it is. What happened?”

  Cal shook his head. “Nope. Not interesting.” He nodded at Linda. “Very nice to meet you.” He turned to go but Shanna grabbed the back of his shirt in her fist and yanked.

  “Sit down and tell me everything,” she said. “Or I will track you back to your apartment and bitch at you until you tell me there.”

  Fifteen minutes later she said, “Well, it’s a toss-up as to which of the two of you is dumber.”

  “Hey,” Cal said.

  “You’re desperately in love with each other and you’re playing footsie with it. Do you know how rare what you have is?”

  “Christ, I hope so,” Cal said. “I’d hate to think there was an epidemic of this garbage.”

  “Stop it,” Shanna said. “You want her back.”

  “Why would I—”

  “Stop it!” Shanna said. “You want her back.”

  Cal sat back on the couch and the memory of Min he’d been fighting for two days came back. He put his head in his hands. “Oh, Christ, I want her back. Which shows you how stupid I really am.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, call her,” Shanna said. “Tell her you’re sorry.”

  Cal jerked his head up. “Hey, I’m the injured party here.”

  “Yeah,” Shanna said. “That been keeping you warm at night, has it? Call her. Tell her you want to talk to her tomorrow night. Take a nice bottle of wine, tell her you love her, work out this non-problem, and live happily ever after.”

  “Why tomorrow?” Cal said, confused. “If I’m going to apologize for something I did not do, I could go over there now—”

  “Because by then you’ll have lost the bet,” Shanna said.

  “I didn’t make the bet,” Cal said.

  Linda moved a little farther away from him on the couch.

  “Stop yelling,” Shanna said. “It doesn’t matter. You hit her where it hurts.”

  “What—”

  “She’s not beautiful,” Shanna said over him. “She’s not thin. She knows that everybody who sees you with her wonders how she got you.”

  “That’s not true,” Cal said. “She’s amazing.”

  “Right,” Shanna said. “We see that, but there are many people who don’t. Including, I believe, her ex-boyfriend who dumped her and then tried to make that bet with you.”

  “Ouch,??
? Linda said.

  “And then you come along, gorgeous and perfect, and you convince her you love her—”

  “I do love her, damn it,” Cal said.

  “—only it turns out you made a bet—”

  Cal stood up. “I did not make that bet—”

  “—that you could take her to dinner,” Shanna went on.

  Cal sat down.

  “And she thought you were trying to get her into bed for a bet, and then in the end, when things got tense, instead of standing by her, you walk out with your gorgeous ex-girlfriend.”

  “Not good,” Linda said.

  “Oh, hell.” Cal put his head in his hands again. “I can’t believe I fell for this. I can’t believe I let that asshole David Fisk do this. I am stupid.”

  “Only this once,” Shanna said. “It’s going to be okay. All you have to do is throw the bet. Big deal, you lose a little pride and ten bucks.”

  “Ten thousand bucks,” Cal said.

  “Whoa,” Linda said, straightening. “This is like cable.”

  “You bet David ten thousand dollars you could get Min into bed?” Shanna said, incredulous.

  Cal looked at the ceiling. “Does anybody here listen to me?”

  “He didn’t make the bet,” Linda told Shanna.

  “Thank you,” Cal said.

  “Everybody knows about the bet,” Shanna says. “It exists in everybody’s minds and if you sleep with her before . . . when is the bet up?”

  “Tomorrow at nine, nine-thirty, I don’t know,” Cal said, trying to remember when they’d made the damn thing. Hadn’t made the damn thing. Christ, even he was doing it.

  “Is she worth losing ten thousand dollars?”

  “Hell, yes,” Cal said.

  “Well, there you are. Go call her and tell her you’ll see her after you lose the bet.” Shanna folded her arms, implacable. “Don’t make me come over there and do it for you.”

  “Do it,” Linda said to Cal. “It’s romantic in a perverse sort of way.”

  “Thank you,” Cal said to her. “On that note, I’m going home.” He got up and left, ignoring Shanna’s “Cal.”

  Shanna was wrong, he told himself as he poured himself another Scotch, but the thought didn’t have much conviction. He closed his eyes and thought of Min and tried to remind himself that it was all treachery, but he kept hearing her say, “I love you,” and he knew it was true.