Pretend You Love Me (17 page)

“You might’ve asked.” Next to the phone he’d scribbled down “Tiny” and the number for the Redmans—who, no, I’d never heard
of—on the back of a grocery bill. I’d call after work. I wasn’t very lucid at the moment. More to myself than him, I mumbled,
“I didn’t know I
was
back in the biz.”

I lay on my bed, watching the digital numbers on my clock radio turn over. 9:01, 9:02. Xanadu wasn’t going to call. I willed
time to stop. 9:05, 9:06. I could’ve called her, except Faye or Leland might ask who was calling at this hour. They’d think
I didn’t have manners. Xanadu was right. Nine o’clock was early. The nine o’clock rule was Toto.

9:12. In one minute, I’d call her.

What if Bailey was still there?

I closed my eyes and blocked out all feeling.

I wouldn’t call. It was Toto, the nine o’clock rule. But it was part of me. I was the spawn of Toto.

He was turned around in his seat, his own seat, talking to Xanadu and laughing. I’d never heard Bailey laugh. He sounded like
a hyena. Mrs. Stargell smiled at me. “Morning, Mike,” she chirruped.

I forced a cheery, “Morning.” Not very cheery. I headed for the dunce seat.

Everyone was talking and laughing. What was this, Happy Laughing Day?

I scraped the desk across the linoleum trying to sit. Sit. Stay. Roll over and play dead. Maybe I could inch over into the
broom closet while Miz S reviewed the homework. Shut the door and disembowel.

Xanadu waved her arms in the air. What was she doing? She’d swiveled around toward me when Mrs. Stargell began to write an
equation on the board. Xanadu drew back her arm and pitched a wad of paper my way. It arced high in the air and I snagged
it.

A note. Folded into a wedge. It took a minute to figure out how to unfold the paper without ripping it. I smoothed the page
open in my lap. “Sorry about not calling,” she’d written. Her handwriting was exquisite, like her. “B stayed until after ten.
Then AF kicked him out.” She’d drawn a frowny face with a lolling tongue. “Ditch your next class. Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

I glanced up. She was waiting for my answer.

Oh yeah. Happy Laughing Day.

We climbed the fire escape to the roof—Jamie’s and my refuge when he needed to grab a smoke between classes, and I needed
sky. I used to smoke. Let’s say I tried it a couple of times and found it held no appeal. Dad smoked. He didn’t want me to
start. Occasionally, if I was bored,
I’d bum a smoke off Jamie. Mostly I blew rings. I’d flick ash off the end of the butt, or practice holding a cigarette the
way guys do to look cool.

There was a shady spot behind the aluminum ductwork over the gym. I directed Xanadu there. Dozens of fresh cigarette butts
were stubbed out on the flashing. These couldn’t all be Jamie’s. Someone had discovered our sanctum. Big surprise.

Xanadu offered me a granola bar. “No thanks,” I said. I was too pumped, being alone with her in a private place. My power
shake was churning up foam in my stomach.

“Bailey told me what happened to your dad,” she said.

“What?” I whirled on her. “What are you and Bailey doing talking about my dad?”

Xanadu cowered a little at my tone of voice. “Sorry. It just came up. I mean, you did. The subject of your dad. I’m sorry.”
She looked at me; looked deep into my eyes.

Too deep. I had to turn away. Picking up a two-inch cigarette butt and studying it, wishing I had Dad’s lighter on me, I said,
“Everybody dies. So what?” I flicked the butt down the shingles and watched it roll off the roof.

Xanadu placed a loose hand over my bent knee. “We don’t have to talk about it,” she said. “I just thought you’d want to.”

“I don’t.” I twisted my head to meet her eyes. Sad eyes. I’d had enough sad eyes to last me a lifetime. “It’s old news. It
happened two years ago, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. She added, “Want to talk about your mom then?”

I scrabbled to my feet. “I thought we came here to talk about you. You and Bailey. He thought we were together, huh?” I leaned
against the duct. “So you called him, huh?”

“Yeah.” She wrinkled her nose. “Can you believe that? The together part?”

I shook my head, wishing I could. Knowing I did.

“He’s so sweet. Polite too. Like he calls Uncle Lee
sir
. ‘Yes, sir. No, sir.’ My dad would shit his shorts if anyone I brought home ever called him sir.”

How many had she brought home? I’d call him sir. She could take me home.

Xanadu hugged her knees and smiled. “He asked me out. We’re going to the movies in Garden City on Friday. I don’t know why
we have to wait a whole week.”

I checked out. She went on talking: Bailey this, Bailey that. I stood, mind wandering, watching her lips move, her eyes dance.
I didn’t care what she talked about, what she said or didn’t say, I loved being here with her, sharing sky with her. I could
stay up here forever.

When the bell rang, I was shocked to realize an hour had passed.

“Maybe I could bum a ride home with him every day,” she said, as my consciousness kicked in. “Is that against Toto rules?”
She blinked up at me.

Could she hear my silent scream? “I better get back,” I said. “I need to work on this history project with Deb.” Deb wasn’t
even in my class.

Xanadu extended a hand for me to pull her up. The heat of her hand, her touch, shot through me. Why him? Why not me? I’d take
her home. I’d gladly submit to the extra laps around the bases for being late to practice.

She dusted off her rear. As we treaded back over the shingles to the fire ladder, she clenched my upper arm and tugged me
to a stop. “I’m not the kind of person who suddenly drops her friends when she has a boyfriend. I hate girls who do that.
And I promise not to blabber on and on ad nauseam about Bailey—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “God. I just did that for an
hour, didn’t I?” Her head lolled back. “You have permission to slap me.”

Never. I’d never lay a hand on her. We poised at the edge of the
roof, Xanadu staring off into the ball field, me staring at her. “I don’t have a lot going for me,” she said, “but I am a
really good friend.”

“What do you mean, not a lot going?” She focused on me; our eyes held. She had the world. She had me. “You have everything,”
I told her. “You’re… you’re great.”

She nudged my shoulder. “You’re biased.”

Yeah. She got that right.

She smiled into my eyes. That smile.

I swear, that smile was meant only for me. It wasn’t my imagination, and I was stone sober. I watched her descend, her shiny
red hair reflecting in the sun. A sentence, a phrase, a word lodged in my brain. Boyfriend. She said boyfriend. She already
thought of Bailey as her boyfriend.

T
he Redman ranch was south of town, halfway to Garden City. I booked it down there after practice, before work. It was a big
job—replumbing a renovation—and I was psyched about the opportunity. I worked up an estimate on the spot, being generous with
my labor costs, and submitted my bid. I ran by Tiny’s salon before heading for the Merc, but I couldn’t augur out her clog.
The shampoo sink would need to be disassembled to get at it. I could do that tomorrow. In the meantime I’d gotten another
call on a swamp cooler fan. Between plumbing and school and practice and work and working out, it was a crazy week.

I needed crazy. Needed to get my mind off them—the two of them—Xanadu and Bailey, together.

We had a doubleheader Thursday night in Sharon Springs. Jamie caught up with me after the lunchtime pep rally, in his uniform,
rustling a pom-pom in my face. “Guess who’s taking me to the game tonight?” he said.

“Guess again,” I replied automatically.

“Not you. Xanadu.”

My stomach leaped. She was coming?

“Somehow she talked Aunt Petunia and Uncle Fester into borrowing the hearse. You want to ride down with us?”

“Coach wants us there half an hour early for a team meeting.” Which was a lie. I don’t know why I didn’t want to ride with
them. Yes, I did. What if Bailey came? They might sit together in the car. And in the stands. I’d never be able to concentrate
on my game if they were there. I could barely contain my nausea now whenever I saw him talking to her in class. In the hall.
At lunch.

I had homeroom last hour so I asked Mr. Decatur if I couldn’t take off early for the game. I needed time to clear my head.
Focus. Control. Also, I wanted to scope out the Sharon Springs team. This was their first year in the league and I heard they
had this hotshot pitcher who was generating buzz with her early stats. Stats could be deceiving, but still. It never hurt
to know the competition.

I hustled home. In the driveway Darryl’s legs stuck out from under a rusty GTO. He had his radio going full blast. Ma’s radio
inside was blaring too. How could they stand the noise? The interference? I snitched the truck keys off the counter and took
off.

The Wildcats were on the field warming up when I slipped into the visiting team’s dugout.

Pop.

My head snapped back.

The catcher stood and lobbed the ball back to the mound. The pitcher was solid, like me. Only large, imposing. Brahma bull
came to mind. I thought I was buff, but whew. This girl. She poised in her stance, waiting for a signal from the catcher.

Pop.

That sound. The ball hitting the catcher’s mitt. It was music to my ears. Forget spying. I squatted outside the dugout, balancing
on one knee. Everyone was watching her.

Pop.

Man, I’d give anything to catch for someone who could throw that fast and hard.

Pop.

Pop.

She was flat-out bringing it, no loss of speed. I could tell by the fire in her eyes she was a serious player. Something else
in her eyes too. The way she held herself—her defiance, confidence. I was dying to get in there; connect with her.

“You’re early, Mike.”

I flinched and almost fell on my butt.

“What’d you do, ditch school?” Coach Kinneson knuckled my head.

“No, ma’am.” I stood upright. “I got permission to leave early. You can check with Mr. Decatur.”

“I trust you. Our only Ms. Perfect Attendance at CHS.” She smiled and dumped her golf bag on the dirt by the dugout steps.

Yeah, I didn’t even miss because of Dad. I was proud of that.

She added, “Have you thought any more about camp?”

Why was she on my back about this? I already told her it was impossible. Sighing audibly, so she’d get the message, I said,
“I’d really like to go, but no one’s throwing money my way, okay?” Did that come out surly? Sorry. But drop it already.

“Maybe you could pass your hat around after the game.” Coach elbowed me.

If that was a joke, it died in the dust.

“Mike.” She expelled a short breath. “I didn’t mean that.”

I never minded living at the lower end of the social scale. It’s not like Coalton was Beverly Hills. I never felt deprived.
Every once in a while, the rich farm kids would square off against us townies, but we put them in their place with attitude.
What money Dad didn’t guzzle away, he put back into the business. At least, I thought he did. I thought he was putting money
away for me. He never let us starve.
Never let us want for much. Darryl and me never wanted all that much. Only for him to be around.