Bookmaker, The (13 page)

“First shock, then denial: ‘Dixon, I can explain. Dixon?’”

“All I
heard was him opening the safe. ‘Don’t bother,’ he said from the closet. He calmly moved toward her, then sat down at the edge of the bed, placed the .38 Special in his mouth, and pulled the trigger.

“Hearing the gunshot and then my mother’s screams
, I rushed into the room and found my father’s body, with his head blown off, lying on the bed. My mother was screaming hysterically—his blood all over her face, dripping down her night gown. I noticed the letters strewn about the room and picked one up, reading around the blood splatters. I dropped the letter, then yelled with vile anger, ‘Mother, what did you do?’”

* * * * *

“Jesus Christ,” was the only response I could come up with. The tears clouded his eyes, but his stiff upper lip wouldn’t let them drop. I could finally understand what might have led Preston to commit these crimes.

“Goddamn
, that Joe was an asshole,” I said.

“So now you’re starting to see where I’m coming from. I told you you would.”

“So Joe and your mom?”

“Yep, and I never forgave her, still don’t. She wanted into their lifestyle so much, she became his mistress. Well
, one of them anyways. And to Joe, I’m sure she was just a notch on his bedpost or the forbidden taboo of sleeping with a close friend’s wife. Joe felt entitled to everything, and he didn’t care who it hurt along the way.”

Preston shook his empty glass at me, the ice jingling against the beveled sides. I made his
drink and made myself a stronger one this time.

Handing him his drink I asked, “So what happened to her?”

“My mother?”

“Yeah.”

* * * * *

“After my father’s suicide
, Mom went insane. Nobody knew what to do with her. She just sat in her room at her vanity table staring into the mirror, never moving, never saying a word. We had to get out of the house. Joe was no longer ambassador, and the British wanted everything related to his administration removed, forgotten. Mother was sent back to Mississippi to stay with her parents. When the locals back home found out the details—her infidelity, her husband’s suicide—they shunned her. Not that it mattered much, she stayed locked in her room staring at the walls all day anyways. Finally, her father had to send her to an institution out in Starkville. He didn’t know what to do for her anymore. She was gone.

“I was supposed to go back to Mississippi with her, but there was no way that was gonna happen. I moved in with Phillip, who had a little place near Oxford. I needed to stay in London
, where all the action was. The family money went into a trust until Phillip and I were older, but we were allotted monthly living expenses.”

“At this point I’d changed: I went from your normal skirt chasing
, rugby playing teen to a bitter, hateful machine with only revenge on my mind. Phillip was more like my mother, shell-shocked, numb. We didn’t talk much. He went through the motions of college, while I dropped out of prep school and started hanging out on the streets, drinking and getting in trouble, petty stuff mainly. The fact that I didn’t care and would do any crazy stunt that the street kids could think up made me a hero, ‘The Bollocks’ was their term. The ‘Yankee Nutter’ they called me. Can you believe that? Me, a Yankee?

“So basically, I roamed the streets of London for four years living with, but completely estranged from
, my withdrawn brother, who sleepwalked through life, consumed with and plotting revenge against anything Kennedy. In 1944, an opportunity presented itself—Joe Kennedy Jr. was stationed nearby at Norfolk Royal Air Base. My plan was to get on the base in any capacity. I’d work from the inside, play the pity card, tell Joe I had nowhere else to go and ask him if he could get me on at the base, and once I got on, you know what happened.”

* * * * *

I leaned forward, put my drink down on the table between us, turned off the recorder, and lit up a Camel. Preston fired up his joint in concurrence. We both knew we were done with work for the day; not much else could be said. Besides, it was Thursday and that meant Thursday night college football. My phone was starting to go off, and I had to get the line for the game.

“Tell you what,” Preston said between puffs, “we got about a half
hour ‘til kickoff, why don’t you head back to your place and take care of your business. I’ll pull myself together on this end and we’ll meet back here.”

“Sounds good,” I said
, gathering up my stuff.

“We got the battle of the Mormons tonight,” he said.

“Huh?”

“BYU vs. Utah—clash of the Latter Day Saints, you don’t want to miss it. I’ll tell you what, that religion loves them some football.” He paused
, and then got to the point, “What’s the line tonight?”

“Last I looked, BYU by
four, might be up to five by now, I gotta check.”

“Who you like?” he asked.

“If you can get five, I’d go with Utah. You never know what’ll happen in a rivalry game, and if you got points to play with, you got the edge—plus, it’s at Utah,” I said confidently, thus convincing Preston.

“Hell, it
’s house money anyways, right? If you can get five or better, put a nickel on the Utes for me.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said
, getting a little worried about overusing my layoff book. You don’t want to use a layoff book for personal action, things get too cluttered.

I called and got the latest lines. It had moved to
five and I relayed the info to Preston. “Go ahead, put me down. Let’s make things interesting tonight,” he said, struggling to stand up. I put him in for a nickel and told him I’d be back to watch the game. At least Preston and I would be rooting for the same team; I knew beforehand I would only get BYU action. Nobody ever played Utah; maybe I should bump it up to six.

Jay’s arrival on Saturday morning was announced with a series of horn blasts that
woke the whole house and brought us outside to see what the fuss was about. From my front porch, I watched in my boxers as Jay’s truck circled through the driveway, pulling a U-Haul trailer. Dayla followed in my truck—which gave me the odd out of body sensation of watching someone else using something that is uniquely yours. I threw on my shorts and ran to greet them. I was surprised by how excited it made me to see their familiar faces, and when Dayla pulled Wade out in his cat case, it made everything complete. I didn’t care how fruity I looked as I doted on Wade, and when he saw me, he purred loudly, poking his paws through the carrier holes.

This momentary lapse of maleness brought Corynne and Tucker over to see Wade. I hadn’t
seen or heard from her since the incident in the field. Her contrite eyes met mine as she gave me a nod and an awkward hello.

Tucker wasn’t so composed—he danced around the cage yelling, “Doggy, doggy, doggy.” I tried to correct him with, “kitty, kitty, kitty,” to no avail, doggy was a word he knew and he was sticking with it.

Jay introduced Dayla; her arrival caused more of a stir than Jay’s. The look everyone tried to conceal said it all. Her pitch-black hair contrasting against her pale, heavily tattooed skin was more than alarming to Preston, Matador, and Delotta. Dayla was the living antitheses of their classic southern belle. Unfazed, Dayla was charming and as beautiful as ever, and I knew she’d win them over just as Jay had, probably quicker. When Corynne and Dayla were introduced, they engaged in a stand-off unique to attractive girls—Corynne had to establish this as her territory, while Dayla had to show she wouldn’t be pushed around. Dayla blinked first with a remark about how adorable Tucker was, which broke the ice, followed by an obligatory remark from Corynne about how cute Dayla’s dress was to set the thaw.

Dayla and I had a long embrace
. “Boy, Trenty, you really got yourself into something out here. And Jay, I’ve never seen him so pumped about anything. I just had to come and see for myself; make sure my boys aren’t getting into any trouble.”

I walked them to their new place
; Dayla was just as impressed as Jay, and why not, it
was
a nice set up, and Delotta had prepared it immaculately for their arrival.

“So this is home,” she dropped her purse on the bed and took a good look around her new surroundings as only a woman can. Her wanton glare towards Jay told me it was time to leave them alone and let them break the place in properly.

“You don’t mind do you, Trenty?” she was already taking off Jay’s shirt.

“Sorry
, T, what can I do, she can’t get enough of me,” Jay said with the shirt over his head.

“All right you kid’s have fun, don’t break anything
, and give me a knock on the door later. I gotta go to work anyways.”

Dayla spoke on my way out, “That Corynne sure is pretty—if you’re into the college-girl thing—I hope you’re already moving on that.”

I didn’t respond and shut the door behind me.

I placed Wade on the floor of his new home and unlatched the cage. He slowly sniffed his way
out, gave me a brush against my leg, and darted under the bed where he’d stay for the next two days.

Ole Miss was on the road—at Tulane with a 5:00
pm kickoff. Preston’s plan was to watch a full slate of games while having a little welcoming party for our new guests. For the past week, Matador and some contractors had been furiously working on the back balcony. Preston, possibly coming to grips with the realization that he wouldn’t be attending many more home games, decided to create a “football oasis” out on his favorite part of the house. A sixty-inch big screen was the centerpiece, surrounded by a seven-piece wicker furniture set. Hanging from the beams above the big screen were three twenty-seven-inch TVs mounted on a swivel. The topper was an amazing custom-made bar fitted into the nuances of the balcony—it must have cost a fortune. Preston would be able to watch four games at a time. It was his design and it came out exactly as he had planned. We were to meet on the back balcony at 5:00pm for barbecue and drinks and all the football we could handle.

After the phone stopped ringing for the early games, I joined Jay in unloading the U-Haul while Dayla put their things away and organized her new house to her liking. We were carrying in his CDs, being careful not to let any fall and disrupt his chronologically organized collection
, when Jay asked, “Corynne seemed a little cold this morning. Couldn’t help but notice a bad vibe between you two. What’s up?”

“Nothing
, man, maybe it’s her time of the month, you know women,” I said, using a cheap excuse since I wasn’t ready to tell him how I’d laid it on the line with her and was rebuked with extreme prejudice. Things were gonna be awkward enough, I didn’t want Jay then Dayla involved.

“Her period
, T? A little weak, don’t ya think?”

“No
, we’re cool. I think she’s been overwhelmed at school lately.”

“Whatever man, don’t tell me,” Jay said
, seeing right through me as usual.

Early September in northern Mississippi is a nice time to do anything outside. The balcony was afire in the waning golden twilight that shimmered off the trees
, dancing in the early evening breeze. Dayla was excited about the party—she decided to dress more demure for the event with a tight long-sleeve red sweater covering most of her artwork and a black skirt with red pumps stretching her long legs. Jay and I dressed as we always did. Preston said we looked like a couple street punks, but he’d grown used to it by now.

“Welcome, welcome, well what do you think?” Preston asked
, turning the prawns on the grill and tending to the catfish. He was in a good mood.

Matador had done nice work—it looked fantastic. The new furniture, the TVs
, and the bar looked great. Chinese lantern lights glowed above the big screen that had the Ole Miss pre-game on, while USC vs. Oregon, Tennessee vs. Florida, and Texas vs. Texas A&M were on the smaller TVs hung from above. It looked like heaven to me.

Preston took Dayla’s hand
. “My lady, aren’t you a sight? Makes you wonder what you’re doing with Jay,” he said winking at Jay.

“Why thank you
, fine sir,” Dayla said playing along, even giving a slight curtsy. Matador and Delotta were in a spirited game of backgammon and Corynne was holding Tucker up to one of the Chinese lanterns that he found so fascinating. She gave me another courtesy hello—no emotion, no smile. Her lukewarm reaction to me stung more than I’d ever let on; why did I have to go against my better judgment and freak her out by baring my soul? Nobody likes to be put into that position, she barely knew me; what I took for romantic overtures was nothing more than cursory niceties from a well-mannered host.

I should have known a girl like her would never be with a lower
-class small-time bookie from the parts of Orange County that don’t make it into the brochure. But goddamn, she was beautiful! If God, or Buddha, or Allah came down and told me he’d create a woman for me, I would use Corynne as the prototype. I was starting to wish I’d never laid eyes on her.

Ole Miss got up early and didn’t look back. Deuce was having his way with a weak Tulane defense—scoring three touchdowns by the half. The Rebels were on their way to another win and an easy cover as well; netting Preston another $500 with my lay-off bookie. With the game in the bag
, Preston was able to get away from the TV and enjoy the party. The ice-cold beer was stacked in the built-in fridge hidden under the bar. The drinks were iced and strong. Jay found a taste for scotch and stuck with it, clanking glasses with Preston and Matador with each new pour. The girls, including Delotta, were sipping Mojitos, and tried to keep up. I stuck to the beer. I wasn’t in much of a party mood.

It was later in the evening, the darker hours
, when the crickets own the night, and well after Delotta and Tucker had gone to bed, when Preston wanted to talk. Matador had wandered off somewhere, and Corynne and Dayla, now best friends, were chatting away on the railing looking out on to the black night. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and she probably noticed—God, I was a creepy fuck. Preston asked Jay and I to sit on the couch opposite him, we noted the serious tone and sat down. Preston immediately lightened the mood when he lit up a joint and started passing it around. Jay laughed; he couldn’t get over these old guys puffing away.

Preston’s attention was focused on Jay
. “Now, Jay, we’re very pleased to have you here, and I’ve already had this conversation with Trent.” Jay’s face got serious. Preston went on. “Now that you are living here—and we’d like you to stay as long as you want—you just have to play by my rules. And they’re pretty simple: don’t be a dick, be loyal, and be discreet, that’s it, and you’ll become a member of the family.” Jay nodded his head and passed up the joint, trying to convey his seriousness, I didn’t. “Now, Trent’s been here for a short time, but we already consider him family and trust him completely.” I gave a slight smile and Jay eyed me proudly. “And we’d love to consider you and Dayla family as well with all the privileges and responsibilities that go with that. Can you play by these simple rules?”

Jay stood up and thrust out his hand with conviction
. “Preston, I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve never really had much of a family, other than Trent and Dayla, and the fact that Trent’s already on board and you’re willing to accept me and Dayla in the short time you’ve known us, I can’t imagine anything I’d like more.”

I’d known Jay forever and I can’t ever remember seeing him like this. He’d never talk about his family, this
was the closest he’d ever come, and this sincerity was a side I’d never seen before.

“That’s what I want to hear
, son, welcome aboard.”

Now that Preston had that out of the way
, he asked Jay if he and I could talk in private. Jay shook his hand again and slipped off, joining the girls. “Now, Trent, we need to get to you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you moping around here lately, and I think I know why.”

He had my attention. I was hoping he’d guess wrong. “It’s Corynne
, isn’t it?” He guessed right.

“Yeah maybe,” I said.

“I thought so. I may be dying, but I ain’t dead yet. I know Corynne well enough to tell when she’s got boy troubles. I’ve dealt with it before with the last one. But you, you don’t seem yourself, son; you want to tell me what’s going on between you two?”

“Not really.”

He shot me a disappointed look. “All right, you don’t need to tell me what happened, I understand. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you a little bit of what I’ve learned about women over my extensive dealings with the fairer sex.”

“Shoot,” I said, glad that my sorry love life was no longer the topic.

“You see, you don’t know it because your neck deep in it at your age—you said you're twenty-five right?”

“Yeah.”

“You look younger. Anyway, when you’re dealing with women—girls rather—if they’re under twenty-five, you don’t stand a chance, son—their maelstrom of flighty capriciousness is at an-all-time high. Don’t get me wrong, it stays with them throughout their life, but ebbs with age and looks. Girls of that age don’t have a clue what they want, what with the hormones and their fairy tale ideals on love and life that haven’t been struck down by reality yet. You’re playing with fire when dealing with women that young. Trust me; they get more malleable in their late twenties—especially if they’re not married yet. Their biological clock starts ticking, all their friends start getting married and all the good guys are taken off the market by the girls who come to grips with reality sooner. But until then, you’re fucked…so buck up, no point getting down about it.”

I was relieved to hear all this, and shit, it made sense, but I still wanted to end the conversation. “Thanks Preston, I’m gonna grab another drink, you want anything?”

“Yeah, hook me up, but come right back here, I’m not through with you yet.”

I wasn’t getting
away that easily.

I handed him his drink and cracked my new beer. I took another stab at changing the topic
. “You know, whatever’s going on between Corynne and me, it’s really nothing, we’re still friends. I just tried to take it a little further and she wasn’t into it, case closed, we can move on.”

“Aha, so there it is, rejection and the awkward aftermath.”

“Nah, we’re cool,” I lied, lighting up a smoke. Preston must have sensed I wasn’t into this anymore, so he tried to wrap it up.

“
All right, two more things and I’ll shut up. Now, Corynne is family and I love her to death, but you’re in for a world of pain if she gets under your skin, which I think she might already have. Remember what I said about girls under twenty-five. You can times that by two with her—unwed mother, abandoned by the father, and throw in serious daddy issues as well and you got nothing but trouble.”

Daddy issues? I wanted more but didn’t pursue it. Preston took a long hard drink and went on
. “And second, if you two did get together and your aim was true, I’d be all for it. I think you’d be very good for her—a smart young enterprising lad such as yourself.”