Chasing Stanley (36 page)

“That would be fine,” said Delilah, touched by her interest. She realized she'd been tensing in anticipation of an anti-Semitic remark that never came. Damn Denny O'Malley. He'd shaken Delilah up more than she'd realized.

“Geez, Mom, where's the chow?”

Eric stood in the kitchen doorway, rubbing his belly like a hungry little boy. He still seemed uncertain of his status with Delilah.
Good,
thought Delilah.

“I'll tell you the same thing I told your father,” Mrs. Mitchell said to Eric. “We won't start without you.” She turned to Delilah. “Men!”

 

 

“That's all you're
eating?”

Delilah looked up from her plate in surprise to see Jason's mother peering at her with concern. They were eating dinner in the living room with their plates on their laps, no easy feat, considering the menagerie sprawled on the floor all around them. The dogs might be well-trained, but dogs were dogs, and all were eyeing the food like vultures. Delilah felt bad, eating this feast in front of them. It seemed deliberately cruel somehow.

She double-checked her plate; she'd taken a single slice of meat and a small dollop of each side dish. She'd deliberately opted for small portions, not wanting Jason's parents to think she was a glutton. Apparently, she needn't have worried.

“I'm okay,” Delilah insisted.

“Please, take more. There's plenty here. If you ask me, you could use a little more meat on your bones.”

Delilah fought the temptation to put aside her plate so she could get down on her knees and kiss Mrs. Mitchell's feet. Despite her father's insistence otherwise, a lifetime of food supervision by Mitzi had convinced Delilah she ate too much. To have unbiased, outside confirmation that this wasn't so boosted Delilah's confidence immensely.

“Everything's great, Mom,” Jason raved. There was a question in his eyes as he glanced at Delilah:
Are you okay?
Delilah gave him a quick smile. Not only wasn't she nervous, but she was actually having a good time.

“What do you plan to do while you're in the city, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell?” Delilah asked.

“Shop,” Mrs. Mitchell replied without hesitation. “And see some Broadway shows.” She turned a hopeful glance toward her sons. “Has that play about Dr. Phil opened yet?” She leaned toward Delilah as if imparting a secret. “I love Dr. Phil. He's so handsome.”

Delilah and Jason looked at each other. Jason's lips were twitching; he wanted to laugh. “Actually, Mom, that play closed,” said Jason.

Mrs. Mitchell looked crestfallen. “It did?”

Delilah nodded. “A friend of mine was in it. He was devastated.”

“As am I.” She popped a piece of meat in her mouth. “I guess we'll just have to settle for
The Phantom of the Opera
, eh, Dick?”

Jason's father just nodded.

“It's too bad you guys aren't going to be here for New Year's Eve,” Eric said to his parents. “You could watch the ball drop in Times Square.”

Jason frowned. “Why would you want to subject them to that? There are a gazillion people there crowded into this tiny space. That's not fun.”

“I agree with Jason,” said Mrs. Mitchell. She took a sip of water. “What are you kids doing for New Year's Eve?”

“Going to Times Square with some of my friends,” said Eric, making a face at Jason.

“Delilah and I are going to a party,” said Jason.

Delilah put down her fork. “We are?”

“Yeah, I've been meaning to tell you.” Jason dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Tully Webster and his wife are having a party at their house in Westchester. I thought we'd check it out.”

“O-okay.”

Jason must have sensed her unease. “You're up for it, right?”

“Sure,” Delilah told him, and for the most part, she was telling the truth. Still, they did need to talk about it.

Flashing a surprisingly self-confident smile, Delilah resumed eating.

“I didn't mean
to just drop it on you like that. I'm sorry.”

Christmas dinner over, Jason's family had left him and Stanley behind at Delilah's so they could spend some time alone. Jason thought the day went great. His parents seemed to like Delilah, especially his mother. Best of all, Delilah really seemed to be relaxed and enjoying herself. But he could tell she'd been caught off guard when he made his announcement about New Year's Eve. He was wrong to present it as a done deal.

“I should kick your butt,” Delilah teased. “You realize that, don't you?”

“You love my butt.”

“I do,” Delilah agreed. “But in the future,
please
, please check with me first before making plans for both of us. Promise?”

“I promise. What did you think of my folks?” Jason continued, beginning to massage her shoulders. Delilah loved being massaged, and Jason loved accommodating her. Of course, the ego boost of being told he had “wonderful, strong fingers” didn't hurt, either.

“They're amazing,” Delilah sighed. “So sane.”

“I thought you'd like them.” Jason kissed the nape of her neck. “And there was no way I wanted to celebrate Christmas without you.” His thumbs made small circles at the base of her skull. “Eric seemed a little skittish, though.”

“He's lucky I haven't skinned him alive.” Delilah dropped her head forward in full surrender.

“You're under my power now,” Jason intoned as if he were a magician mesmerizing her.

“So, about New Year's,” Delilah said casually.

“Mmm?”

“I'm not really a New Year's Eve person,” Delilah said carefully. “I was kind of hoping we could have a nice quiet New Year's Eve here, or at your place.”

“Doing what?” Jason asked.

“Maybe bring in some takeout, rent a few movies.”

“In other words, the usual.”

“Yes.” Delilah lifted her head and turned to look at him. “What's wrong with that?”

“It's New Year's
Eve
, Delilah. We're supposed to be out having fun!”

“Why can't we stay in and have fun?”

“We could,” Jason agreed cautiously. “But I'd really like to go to this party. I think it could be fun.”

He felt Delilah's shoulders beginning to tense beneath his hands. “Maybe you're right. I don't know.”

“How about this?” Jason suggested. “We toss a coin. Heads we go, tails we don't.”

“Okay.” The prospect seemed to cheer her a bit.

Jason pulled a quarter out of his pocket. “Ready?” Delilah nodded. He threw the quarter up in the air, caught it, then slapped it onto his wrist. “Heads.”

“Two out of three,” Delilah called.

Jason frowned. “Fine.” He repeated the coin trick. Again it came up heads.

“Shit,” said Delilah.

“Fair's fair,” Jason reminded her, putting the coin back in his pocket.

“I know,” Delilah agreed. She swallowed. “Will Denny be there?”

“I don't know. But we can't let him dictate what we do and don't do socially. We play on the same team, honey. Being at the same social events is kind of unavoidable.”

Delilah said nothing, but Jason could sense the wheels in her head turning.

“What about the dogs?” she asked quietly. “I have two boarders that night.”

“Maybe we could ask Marcus to hang here.”

Delilah laughed. “You expect
Marcus
to hang out here on New Year's Eve?”

“Tell him I'll pay whatever he asks.”

“Jason!”

“I really want to go to this party, and I really want you to go with me,” Jason insisted passionately. “Since Marcus is the only human being in Manhattan you trust with your dogs, it seems logical we ask him, and pay him accordingly.”

Delilah bit her lip. “Let me think about it.”

“We don't have to get dressed up,” Jason added as an additional enticement. “It's casual.”

“Well, that's good.” Delilah reached for his hand. “Promise me one thing.”

“What's that?”

“That we don't stay too long, and that even if some of your teammates are getting drunk, you don't.”

“That's two things.”

“Those are my terms.”

“You really think I'd get drunk on New Year's Eve? Please. I'll leave that to Eric.”

“Are we agreed?”

Jason hesitated. “Define ‘We don't stay too long.' ”

“We leave as soon as the clock strikes midnight.”

“Afraid your car might turn into a pumpkin?”

“I don't like the idea of being on the road with all those drunks, Jason. I really don't. I'd like to get home sooner rather than later.”

“Agreed,” he said.

Delilah's eyes searched his face uneasily. “What if Marcus can't or won't do it?”

“Tell him money is no object.”

“Okay. But I still don't think he'll bite.”

 

 

“One night of
New Year's Eve's dog sitting sold to the pretty lady with the fancy, leather fanny pack for five hundred dollars!” Marcus whooped. “Yeah!”

Delilah smiled bleakly as heads turned to see who was bellowing in the middle of the dog park. Though winter was here, and with it an increased desire on Delilah's part to hibernate, she had vowed when she started her business that barring a full-out blizzard, “her” dogs would spend part of each day in the dog park. So here she and Marcus sat, their gloved hands clutching large, steaming coffees, Marcus shuddering with cold in his flimsy leather jacket.

“Why don't you wear a warmer coat?” Delilah asked.

“What, and risk being mistaken for Nanook of the North like you? No way. I have an image to uphold.”

“Yeah, that of a gay man freezing his butt off on a park bench. You could bring a friend to hang with you if you want,” said Delilah, suddenly saddened by the image of Marcus all alone on New Year's Eve.

“You're very sweet, Lilah, but I think I'll pass. New Year's Eve is a trial best faced alone.”

“I agree with you there.”

The last time Delilah had been to a New Year's Eve party, the host forced everyone to listen to him play “House of the Rising Sun” on his guitar, and by the time the clock struck midnight, the hostess had locked herself in the bathroom, weeping, following a fight with her best friend. Delilah dreaded finding herself in a situation like that ever again.

As if reading her mind, Marcus bumped his shoulder against hers. “Stop fretting. Everything is going to be fine.”

Outrageously crowded. Those
were the first words that came to Delilah's mind as she and Jason walked into Tully Webster's living room. The room was packed with people, some of them well on their way to inebriation, and it was only nine thirty. Jason had wanted to hitch a ride from the city with Barry and Kelly Fontaine, but Delilah resisted. She didn't want to depend on anyone else for transportation. Driving themselves insured someone sober would be behind the wheel on the ride home. It also meant they weren't at the mercy of the Fontaines who, for all Delilah knew, might like to watch the sun come up on New Year's Day.

“Hey, guys, come in.” Tully's face was flushed, whether from sheer excitement or alcohol, Delilah couldn't tell.

“Tully, this is my girlfriend, Delilah,” said Jason.

Tully's smile was genuine as he held out a big hand for Delilah to shake. “Nice to meet you.” He grinned at Jason. “You hear about Dante?”

“What about him?”

“The wife dropped the third bambino this morning. Another girl. Named her Angelina or something like that. Kid weighed in at nine pounds.”

Jason chuckled. “What a bruiser. She might have a future in hockey.”

“You got that right.” Tully gestured at the room full of people behind him. “You know everyone here. Food's on the table in the dining room, booze on the sideboard behind it. Go forth and paar-tay.”

Tully disappeared back into the crowd as Jason led Delilah farther inside. She quickly scanned the room for familiar faces. No David and Tierney. But Denny was there. He was holding court by a pair of sliding glass doors beyond which a built-in pool, covered for the winter but still lit by floodlights, was visible. Delilah felt her face warm with remembered humiliation and tried to put it behind her. He was Jason's teammate. She
would
have to deal with him on some level from now on, even if it was just breathing the same air he did.

They were in the dining room now. The temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees, a direct result of less bodies crowding the space. Above the din of voices, Delilah tried to detect what music was playing. She couldn't. All she knew was that it was loud enough to make the bottles and empty glasses on the sideboard tremble.

Jason introduced her to everyone in the dining room, their faces all blurring into one as Delilah did her best to smile and return their salutations. She worried about what would happen once she and Jason filled their plates and glasses. Would he expect her to mingle on her own? Or would he permit her to remain soldered to his side, a nodding appendage too nervous to speak?

“Jason Mitchell. Just the man I was hoping to see.”

Delilah watched as a paunchy, middle-aged man in a navy blue blazer approached them. She glanced at Jason. He was smiling broadly. This was someone he liked.

“Hey, Larry. I want you to meet my girlfriend, Delilah. Delilah, this is Larry Levin. He's one of the longtime sports-casters at Met Gar Media. We all love this guy.”