The Winners Circle (13 page)

“
I don’t know how,” she said.

He thought not to laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“
No.”

Jerry stopped talking. No doubt, he had his problems, but she seemed unprepared for the real world. What if he fell sick and needed a lift to the hospital? What if the car got a flat tire? What if someone dropped the bomb and they needed to forage for food? These were practical concerns, and he doubted she was fit to handle more than a jib sail or a dialogue on Dark Age feminism. When the chips were down, she’d fold up like a cheap chair. She’d make him soft and stupid.

“
I used to own a farm in Hopewell,” he said. “I used to assemble car parts in Trenton for a living. I worked with my hands.”

“
It’s a good thing you don’t have to do that anymore.”

Jerry chomped on a cracker. “Those were the best years of my life.”

John Coltrane buzzed in Ms. Ruiz’s office. Jerry had to ask who it was. He didn’t know a thing about jazz. There was a lot to learn about being sophisticated. What to leave in? What to leave out? It gave him a headache, like assembling a complicated recipe by just viewing the picture.

“
Scarlett wasn’t your type.” Ms. Ruiz wore a green suit with a rich paisley print. “We’ve learned some things from that experience.”

Jerry barely listened. He felt defeated. He was thirty-three years old and dead in the dating pool. He used to think that life got better every year, but he’d been cut loose and sent to pasture during his prime.

“
I thought she was a good match,” Ruiz said. “I’m sorry.”

“
It’s not your fault. We’re not from the same background.”

“
Jerry, your background has changed.” She was starting to sound an awful lot like Dick Leigh. “Do you think the Vanderbilt’s and Kennedy’s were the heirs of nobility? They created their pedigree out of nothing, common stock even.”

“
I’ll always be what I am. The high life isn’t for me.”

“
Then tell me what lifestyle is?”

He didn’t have an answer. When he didn’t own a dime, he used to dream like a millionaire. He was no longer certain that millionaires dreamed at all.

“
Do you hope to have children one day?” Ruiz asked. “You want the proper environment for them.”

“
I do.” Jerry believed that love and an even hand was the proper way to raise kids. He guessed he was wrong about that too.

“
I have another woman for you.” She passed him a thin black binder. “Her name is Karen Leforte.”

“
She sounds familiar.”

“
She was an Olympic gold medalist.”

“
I remember. The parallel bars, right?”

“
The balanced beam.”

“
That’s it.”

“
She’s in great shape.”

He recalled an incident in Japan. He was vague on the details: police, hospitals. He wasn’t the type to read the tabloids. “Didn’t she have a nervous breakdown or something?”

“
That was years ago.”

“
How’s she doing?”

“
Fine. She’s putting out a line of fitness videos.”

“
I’m surprised she needs a dating service.”

Ruiz bristled at the remark. Her knuckles bunched, as she pressed her fingertips together and aimed them at Jerry. “She’s looking for someone with similar roots.”

“
I don’t know. What do we have in common?”

“
You’re both country. She grew up in Pennsylvania. Her father owns a car dealership in Newtown. She’s a regular girl.”

He figured that she knew how to change a flat tire at least. He pieced together his memories of her on television curling over the bars like a flexible doll, but she looked grown up in the color glossy from the binder. She was a woman.

“
It’s a great match,” Ruiz insisted. “You’ve both been thrust into notoriety by circumstance.”

Jerry drove to Blackfoot Lake, deep in the Jersey Pine Barrens. The evergreen scent in August was bold and crisp, and the lake was active with weekend boaters. On the opposite shore, the annual skeet shooting contest commenced. A slight breeze swept through the open space, and the reports of gunfire and cheers riffled across the muddy waters.

The pier was abandoned by late morning. Empty boat trailers jammed the parking lot, and colorful windsurfers and canoes dotted the lake. Jerry scanned the docks for Karen Leforte. He recognized her right away. She sat beside a bearded man in a bright orange turban.

Karen Leforte wore a navy blue tracksuit with white racing stripes down the arms and legs. Jerry agreed with Ms. Ruiz. Karen was in great shape. She looked effervescent and attractive, probably the same age as he was. His hands tingled with excitement.

He approached her, dressed in a designer polo shirt, chinos, and flat brown deck shoes. The man with the turban sat too close to Karen. As the first order of business, Jerry planned to invite her on a stroll around the lake, but he noticed the pair speaking closely.

“
This is Rashied.” Karen nudged her head toward her companion. She didn’t offer further explanation.

Rashied smiled. His beard was black like the eyebrows that nearly bridged his nose. He wore a three-piece suit with an orange tie that matched his turban.

Jerry wondered if Rashied spoke English. He decided to ignore him and direct his request at Karen only. “Would you like to walk the lake?”

“
This is our first outing,” Karen said. “Let’s sit and talk.”

Jerry enjoyed the sound of her voice. It was energetic but not intrusive. He realized that he’d never heard it before, only viewed her in magazines and on television. He took a seat on the opposite side from Rashied. Several shotgun blasts echoed across the lake, followed by more cheers.

“
Did you have trouble finding the lake?” Karen asked.

“
It’s on the map.”

“
Ms. Ruiz filled me in about you.”

“
I read your report too.”

“
My report?”

“
She profiles prospective matches.”

“
Oh, right.”

Rashied leaned over and whispered in Karen’s ear. She stared at the horizon, listening intently. Jerry failed to make out a word.

“
Do you two have business to take care of?” Jerry asked. “I can leave you alone for a while.”

“
Please, sit.”

“
I just thought ...”

“
You thought what?”

He watched Rashied whisper again. He tried not to get annoyed. “What is he doing?”

Karen returned her focus to Jerry. She showed some of that girlish expression that Jerry recalled from the past, as if a panel of judges were about to flip scorecards and grade the entire exchange. “Rashied’s a trusted advisor.”

“
Like, on the spot?” Jerry believed he was making a joke.

“
Yes.”

“
Oh.”

“
Do you mind?”

“
No. It’s alright. No, no. It’s no problem.” He listened to himself say ‘no’ too many times.

“
I’m glad you understand.”

“
Does he go everywhere with you?”

Rashied whispered again.

“
Did I ask the wrong question?” Jerry asked.

“
Excuse me?”

“
Is there something Rashied wants to ask me?”

Rashied pulled away from her ear. He smiled at Jerry.

Oh brother.
Jerry felt the bottom quickly dropping out of this arrangement. Life offered a number of trap doors, and there were times when he wanted to fall through one.

He folded his hands in his lap. He recalled his silly list of questions. Experience had pared it down to the basics. “Do you know how to drive a car?”

She glanced at Rashied. “Yes, I can drive.”

“
Good.” His glanced darted between her and her advisor. “Can either of you change a flat tire?”

“
Excuse me?”

“
Can you change a flat tire?”

She and Rashied both stared.

“
How about this one,” Jerry said. “If the bomb dropped tomorrow, what would you do?”

“
I don’t understand.” Karen glanced at Rashied.

“
Does Rashied have an answer for that?” Jerry asked. “Either one of you can answer.”

“
Another bust.” Jerry spoke into his cell phone, as he sped away from the odd twosome. The Porsche’s mighty engine roared over the blacktop, as if preparing to take flight. Pine trees and patches of sand raced through his peripheral vision. He wanted to create fast miles between himself and Blackfoot Lake.

Ruiz sounded cautious over the phone. “I’m disappointed.”

“
I don’t think she’s interested in a one-on-one yet.”

“
Did she bring the guru?” Ruiz sounded disturbed.

“
Yup.”

“
She didn’t.”

“
It’s okay.” He found himself consoling Ruiz again. This whole experiment wasn’t turning out as he hoped. “There will be others, I guess.”

“
Don’t be discouraged, Jerry. I have a file cabinet full of women who’d be proud to know a man of your caliber.”

He was afraid of that. He looked down the road as if holding a specific destination in mind, but plenty of time remained before the Saturday night buffet at the Hyatt. The big decision was whether to turn left or right at the next intersection. “I’m sure you’re hard at work.”

“
I can profile a few candidates for you over the phone.” She shifted files in the background. Charlie Parker bopped through the receiver. He was beginning to recognize the jazz masters from his compilation CD.

“
That won’t be necessary.” He saw steam rising from the hood of a blue Datsun on the side of the road. Its flashers were going. He signaled to pull over. “I’ll call you in a few days.”

“
Don’t wait.”

“
I won’t.”

“
You need to stay in circulation. Every date makes you more desirable.”

“
We’ll talk on Monday.” He squeezed the power button on the cell phone and stopped several yards ahead of the troubled car.

Jerry rose out of the Porsche, in his spiffy designer clothes. The sun beat down, and the air smelled like antifreeze and hot grease. Cars whipped past on the open road. The breeze barely fanned the midday heat.

A woman leaned against the door, arms folded. She was dressed in trim black pants and a white buttoned-down shirt. Jerry saw relief in her expression. She pushed off her car, joining him halfway on the shoulder.

“
Thank you.” She was a blonde, with lanky arms like his former wife. Her tan skin reflected the color of burning wood before it catches the flame.

“
How long have you been out here?”

“
Fifteen, twenty minutes. I stopped trying to wave down cars.”

“
No one stopped?”

“
No one stops anymore. I’m late for work.”

He gripped the cell phone in his palm. “Need to make a call?”

“
Yes, please.”

He turned it on and handed it over.

Jerry walked to the Datsun and leaned over the hood. The blue fog started to dissipate, although the engine still hissed. A long and ragged slit opened the lower radiator hose. Not even duct tape would help at this point, and he doubted she carried enough water and antifreeze to refill the reservoir.

The woman spoke quickly into the phone. Her job had something to do with food service. She was late for a catered affair. Jerry liked the way she took control of the conversation. She wasn’t about to be blamed for a blown radiator hose.

He waited for her to hang up. “Everything alright?”

“
I think so. I don’t know why I take these jobs.”

“
For the money,” he said without thinking.

She paused. She seemed to be taking in his clothes and car. “That’s the reason.”

“
I remember those days.” He recalled that women noticed details like shoes, pants, and hairstyle. Men noticed hips, chests, and hair. He wanted to say that this image wasn’t really him. “It wasn’t that long ago when I needed every paycheck.”

“
Sure. What are you, a stockbroker? No, don’t tell me. You’re a lawyer.”

“
Do I look like a lawyer?”

“
You’re a doctor then?”

“
I took a CPR course once.”

She started to laugh. It was a deep expression, laced with sincerity. She brushed back her bangs and looked him right in the eye. It was a sign. He’d read the book on female body language, which Ruiz insisted he’d study as part of his training, but he summarized the entire text as a load of bunk, until this moment.

“
Do you need a lift?” He treaded slowly with his questions, trying to act casual. If he got her into his car, he’d muster the courage to ask her on a date.
Things happen this way. They must. It’s just that easy
.