Sparkle (14 page)

She took off her coat, draped it over a chair, and found her way into the kitchen in search of a corkscrew. Here again, everything seemed to be from the ‘70s, except the paint, which looked pristine enough to have been applied a week ago.

She opened a likely looking drawer. It held silverware, gleaming and neatly ordered. In the drawer below that, she found a cheap corkscrew, still unopened in a sealed plastic bag. It looked as if it had come from one of the dollar stores down in Chinatown.

LaVonne uncorked the Chardonnay with a little difficulty. The opener was so cheap it started to bend when she pulled out the cork. She opened a cabinet. Everything was clean and lined up precisely, but there were no wineglasses. She filled two highballs, went back into the living room, and put them on the coffee table.

She noticed a framed picture of two small boys. They were wearing Little League baseball uniforms. They couldn’t have been more than six or seven years old.

Joe came up from the basement. “Eddie’s…gone to bed,” he said.

LaVonne put down the picture. “This you guys?”

“Not anymore.”

“I like the way you are now,” she said. She picked up a glass and handed it to Joe.

Joe’s head was spinning. He took the glass and moved away. He sat on the couch, stiffly. LaVonne sat next to him. She sipped her wine.

“You were right,” she said. “The Mariners lost in the ninth.”

“They’ll win tomorrow, though,” Joe stammered.

“Is that what all your reference materials are for?” she asked. “Or are they just props to keep people away? I notice you don’t lose many bets.”

Joe really wanted a cigarette, but he held off. He took a gulp of wine. He looked at the glass. “I’ve got a good eye,” he said.

“Really,” LaVonne said. Could’ve fooled me. “You mean about baseball, right?”

“Just stuff about different players. Sometimes, when I was a kid, my dad …”

LaVonne waited. “Yes, Joe?” she said finally. “What about your dad?”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

“Yes, I do,” LaVonne said.

“My dad…he played semi-pro ball for a while. He always said I should be a coach.”

“It’s never too late,”

“Yeah, it is.”

This is almost starting to feel like a real conversation, LaVonne thought. Joe sounded sincere. Like it hurt. She had hit a nerve somehow. She reached out and touched his hand. He didn’t pull away, but she felt him stiffen. She turned it over and looked at his palm. It was soft, warm, and damp. Not hard or rough, the way you’d expect a janitor’s to be. There was something about the touch that warmed her whole body.

“I know you’ve had a hard time, Joe. You’re not the only one. Maybe I can help.”

Joe was feeling dizzy, unsure of why this was happening, or even what was happening. He wanted to look into LaVonne’s eyes, but he couldn’t. So he looked at their hands, his in hers.

There they were.

Together.

“I’m fine,” he whispered.

“I’m not,” LaVonne said. She brought her free hand carefully to Joe’s scar.

Joe felt a tickling fizz of electricity run around his neck and shoot out the top of his head. He took a deep breath and sighed. She’s touching me.

“Does this hurt you, Joe?”

“No, it feels good.”

“LaVonne laughed and took her hand away. “I meant does your scar hurt you?”

“No, not physically.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you, Joe, but I have pretty good instincts,” she said. Yeah, right. ”I’ve earned them the hard way. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I like you. A lot. I’ve been thinking about seeing if you wanted to go out for a long time.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend?”

“No. Not for…forever. I guess you could say I’ve been taking some serious time off.”

“Me, too.” Understatement of the year. Joe tried the wine. He never drank wine. It was good. Music. I should turn on some music. Joe realized the only stereo was up in his room. His head was light. How could this feel so surreal, so surprising, and so natural all at the same time? He’d fantasized about LaVonne a thousand times, and here she was. He was amazed at how quickly his body seemed to relax. This didn’t feel strange. Well, yes it did—but it felt more good than strange, which was amazing considering Joe’s lack of experience.

They looked at each other, and LaVonne smiled. Joe wanted her to touch him again. Had she invited him to hold her hand? Touch her face? Kiss her?

“Joe! JOE!”

Joe leapt to his feet. It was Eddie in the basement. It sounded urgent. He probably forgot to unplug the sink when he was brushing his teeth and flooded the bathroom. Maybe the basement’s on fire. I should’ve known better.

LaVonne—beautiful, seemingly unreachable LaVonne—had thrown Joe off guard for a moment, and now he was paying the price. There was no escape. Better now than later. This was reality. What had he been thinking? What had she been thinking?

“Shit,” he said. “I gotta go.” Joe jumped up. His panic was as complete as it was sudden. He paced for a moment before stopping in front of LaVonne. “I’m sorry, this isn’t, I can’t—”

“JOE! JOE!” Eddie again. If he didn’t get down there soon, they might be up all night. Joe gave LaVonne a stricken look. “You’d better just go,” he said.

“JOE!”

LaVonne took a deep breath and composed herself. She got up and put on her coat. She reached into the pocket and pulled out Joe’s card and a pen. She wrote her phone number on the back and handed it to him.

“I’m not trying to get out of dealing with the car thing,” Joe said, shuffling his feet as though he was desperate for a pee.

“Go take care of your brother, Joe.” LaVonne looked genuinely concerned.

“Okay,” he said. He turned without hesitating and hurried away, leaving her standing alone by the open front door.

Joe heard the door shut on his way to the basement. Had she slammed it? He couldn’t quite tell. He went over to where Eddie was lying on his couch, ready for sleep.

“Good night, Joe,” Eddie said.

Joe clenched his teeth. He’d forgotten to say good night. That was all it was.

By the time he got back upstairs, LaVonne was already halfway down the block.

After Joe stomped back upstairs, Eddie closed his eyes. He hadn’t noticed how bothered Joe was. He had his own worries. Immediately, he began to sink down. The thoughts that had been racing through his brain swirled and melted together into a calm, warm fog. He began to float.

He smelled new-mown grass and felt a warm breeze on his face. Voices, first far away, grew louder. Excited, happy voices. He put his hand to his nose and smelled old leather. He was six, and he was standing behind a chain-link fence, watching the game on the other side.

Joe stood waiting for something to happen at his position in deep right field, bored, kicking the grass and smacking his glove. Eddie was proud of his big brother.

His heart pounded and he realized his mom was near. She was sitting in the stands, watching them both.

A crack sounded loud and clear, and Eddie knew this was no ordinary dream. It was a memory, long lost and coming back at last.

“Make the catch, Joe, make the catch!” he heard himself shout.

Joe ran back, all the way to the fence, but the slow-motion ball was definitely going out of the park, high above his head and over the fence.

Eddie watched himself turn, sprint, dive, and reach for the ball. Flat on his stomach, he checked his glove.

“I made the catch!” Eddie jumped up in amazement. The small crowd cheered as he stood and held up the ball. His mom stood and cheered, too. “I made the catch!”

Joe, on the other side of the fence, was looking at him with wide eyes. “Good job, Eddie!”

Eddie held the ball out to his brother. “You want it, Joe?”

“No way. Take it to the concession stand, man. They’ll give you a free soda if you turn it in there.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie said. “Okay.” He sprinted off.

Eddie could smell his mom’s rose smell. He tasted the good lemony taste of Sparkle, and looked down to see the green-and-yellow bottle in his hand.

He looked up and there she was. Mom. Walking beside him and Joe, away from the game. Eddie looked at the bottle again and took another drink, making sure the bottle was exactly half full. Then he held it out to Joe. “Here you go, Joe. I saved it for you.”

“Backwash?” Joe asked.

“Naw,” Eddie said.

“Joseph!” Mom said. “Eddie wouldn’t do that to you. Would you, Eddie?”

“Naw.” Eddie couldn’t believe the sound of his mom’s voice. She sounded so much like Joe.

“Okay,” she said. “Listen, Joe, you did real good today. I’m proud of you. In fact, since you both did so good, I’m taking you for burgers and ice cream.”

“All right!” Joe said.

“All right!” Eddie echoed. “Where’s Dad?”

It was quiet for a long moment. Silent.

“He’s out drinking,” Joe said. “And he’ll probably yell at us when he comes home.”

“Joseph!” Mom said. “You be quiet, son.”

“Well, that’s what I heard you say on the phone to Aunt Dixie.” Joe shuffled his feet nervously but held his ground.

“Do you want to go straight home, Joseph?” Mom said.

“Joe!” Eddie pleaded. He wanted to smack himself in the head for asking about their dad in the first place. It was stupid. Mom was here. Oh please oh please don’t let her go away.

“Sorry, Mom,” Joe said. He took a big swig of Sparkle, and then gave the bottle back to Eddie.

“You don’t want it?” Eddie said.

“No bubbles,” Joe replied.

Mom reached down and stroked Eddie’s curly dark hair. Her touch felt so good.

The light faded to gloom, and they were inside a house, standing at the bottom of hundreds of long dark stairs. At the top was a door. A pale dirty light shone through the crack at the bottom. Mom headed silently up, alone. She was holding hands with a little girl. The girl turned and looked at Eddie. Lucy Silver. Her lips moved. “Make the catch.” She beckoned for him to follow.

Eddie tried, but his feet wouldn’t move. He reached out for Joe, but Joe was gone. Eddie’s heart was gripped with panic; Mom wasn’t going to say good-bye.

She reached the top of the stairs, the door opened, and she was gone. From the back, Mom had looked like Jolie. Lucy had looked like Mom. They were all the same. He couldn’t get to any of them. The light under the door shifted from white to lurid red.

Eddie’s forearm burned. He looked down and it was covered with blood. He wasn’t clean.

Eddie had to go up those stairs. But he had nothing and no one to help him.

Then he felt something in his pocket. It was something important. He had to have the thing in his pocket. Lucy Silver had put it there. She would never stop haunting his dreams until he did what she wanted.

Eddie reached his hand into his pocket and felt something there. He pulled it out and looked at it.

It was the baseball he had caught. It was solid, round, and perfect. It had come to help him. He held it to his heart.

It gave him the strength he needed to start moving slowly up into the forbidding dark.

Chapter 20

Upstairs, Joe was absorbed in the Mariners game on his little television. The rhythm of the game was soothing, almost hypnotic. When his cell phone rang he was tempted not to answer it. He checked the caller ID anyway. Pinky. It might be work. He had to get it.

“Shit.” Joe put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Detective.”

“Seen the news?” Joe could tell by the uplift in Pinky’s voice that Detective Bjorgeson was in good spirits. She knew exactly how Joe felt about the so-called news.

“Let me guess,” Joe said. “Somebody’s dead.”

“Yep,” Pinky chuckled. “Dead and mostly gone. That’s where you come in, my friend. Hey, got the M’s on?”

“What do you think?” Joe muttered.

“How they doing?”

“They’re tired,” Joe said, with the faintest trace of warmth. “RBIs are down more than 12 percent, and Martinez has this weird knee thing nobody’s supposed to know about.” It was the opening Pinky was waiting for. He cut Joe off.

“Know what you and Martinez have in common?” She paused for effect. “You’re both cleanup guys.”

“Ha ha.”

Pinky got to the point, hoping to get a more satisfying rise from Joe. “It’s six multiple headshots. Kind of messy. But hey, that’s your thing. Four guys and two formerly attractive—”

It worked. “Hey,” Joe cut in flatly. “Please. I’m not in the mood, okay?”

“Aw, Joe, you hurt my feelings. You’re never in the mood.”

“Yeah, I know. So do you. So please…address and body count.” A lot of times Joe stuttered when he was agitated, and now he felt the warning tightness in the top of his throat. He choked it back. No way was he going to give Bjorgeson the satisfaction.

“Sorry, Joe, I can’t resist,” Pinky let up. “You know I love you. You have to learn to take a joke. Toughen up.”

Joe didn’t respond.

“Okay, Joe. Monday morning. Red Lotus Card Room. Owner’ll call you with the address and all that.”

“Whatever. You t-tell him about Eddie?” Joe forced himself back into his noncommittal monotone. The fact that he asked this same question every time Louis or Bjorgeson called with work made it easier.

“Yes, Joe.” Pinky said. “He thought it was very, very odd.”

“Tough beans.”

Pinky laughed. “Tell Eddie I said you’re giving him a raw deal.”

“You tell him.” Joe hung up and turned his attention back to the game.

Chapter 21

Sunday

Eddie opened his eyes. He sat up and looked mildly at nothing.

His dream had been powerful. He didn’t remember any details, but as he had hoped, Jolie had been part of it. And Mom. And Lucy. He wasn’t willing to do more than give the barest attention to that part, though. He could only manage one problem at a time, and Jolie was at the top of the list right now.

The best part of the dream was baseball. Something great about baseball. That was important, because he was going to the Mariners game today with Joe. And he was going to find a way to get things back on track with Jolie.

There was some kind of a challenge involved. Whatever it was that was going to happen today would take work. There was difficulty involved, but he was going to be given a way to make Jolie see and understand how he felt. Today, he felt sure, was going to set everything in motion.