Be My Baby Tonight (18 page)

“I know. Men get mad at us because they did
something dumb and then we had the
nerve
to get mad at them
for it.”

“That, too,” Suzanna said, summoning a weak
smile. “But it’s that they lost to the Mets last night. He went
0-for-5 last night, Keely, with two strikeouts. You do know, of
course, that that’s my fault? If they don’t win today, and at least
get a split with the Mets for the series, they end up down two
games after being tied on Friday night. Well, I don’t even want to
think about it.”

“Jack’s the same way when the Yankees lose.
I’ve learned to enjoy the game, and I know how much he loves it;
but those two are so intense, aren’t they? It is just a game.”

“Keely, it was
never
just a game to
Jack and Tim. Not ever.”

“Also true. I met Jack right after he had to
retire, and he was miserable, I thought he was just spoiled and
self-centered, but I slowly came to realize that to Jack, his life
was over; his world had ended. If Candy hadn’t come along? I think
he would have sulked forever. But the thing is, Suzanna, Jack
learned that baseball isn’t all there is to life. He still loves
the game, but there’s so much more now in his life. Candy, me, the
baby. Aunt Sadie says the best thing that ever happened to Jack was
tearing his rotator cuff. While I don’t quite believe that one, I
do think he’s a happier man now than he ever was while he played.
More... complete.”

“Tim’s always lived for the game. God, Keely,
he married me because he was so afraid he might lose the game.”

“So he says,” Keely said, putting a bowl of
microwaved chicken noodle soup in front of Suzanna. “So he says.
But you know what, Suzanna? I think his subconscious is smarter
than that. Somewhere, deep inside himself, that big dumb jock
looked at you and outsmarted himself.”

“What?”

“Oh, never mind. I’m pregnant I get to say
silly things once in a while. You’ll see, it’s in the expectant
mothers’ manual. Now, eat up.”

* * *

Three out of four. They had dropped three
games out of four to the Mets. What could turn out to be the most
important series of the season, and they had blown it. Back out of
the tie for first place they had grabbed on Friday, and now two
full games out, with the Philly sportswriters already saying,
“Choke city,” and “Not enough good pitching,” and, worst of all,
“What’s up with Tim Trehan?”

Tim left Philadelphia behind him, gratefully,
and headed up the turnpike to Whitehall.

By the time he hit the Quakertown exit, all
thoughts of the game had fled, and he was wondering about his
reception at Jack and Keely’s when he arrived.

Suzanna would be there. Jack had said that
Keely had said that Suzanna had said she’d be there.

What if she wasn’t there?

And why there? Why with a house full of
people, Aunt Sadie probably wearing one of those silly paper hats,
a couple of leis, and a big button saying “Birthday girl” on
it?

He didn’t need a crowd. He needed to be with
Suzanna.

God, how he needed to be with Suzanna.

She, obviously, didn’t need to be with him.
Because Jack had said that Keely had said that Suzanna had said she
wanted him to come to the party, yes, but that she was still going
to be staying in the guest room at his brother’s, and that he was
to pretend everything was just fine between them for Aunt Sadie’s
sake, for Mrs. B.’s sake, and not cause any trouble or she’d have
to hurt him.

That was the message he’d gotten: she’d have
to hurt him.

That was just a saying, an empty threat. He
knew that. So why was he already hurting?

And why did he feel as though they had all
reverted to elementary school?
He told me to tell you that he
said that she said—cripes!

Tim pulled onto the narrow macadam road that
led back to Jack’s house and several other homes that were either
brand new or under construction, and ended at the small bridge
running across Coplay Creek to his own house.

His and Suzanna’s house.

The one she wasn’t in.

He was early—it didn’t take long to lose
two-zip. He could stop in at the house, hope that Suzanna might be
there. Drop off his bag. Glare at Lucky.

Looking to his left as he neared his
brother’s house, Tim could see a huge black four-by-four parked in
the circular drive. “Oh, great. Cousin Joey. The shorter the man,
the bigger the vehicle.”

He pulled into the drive, figuring he might
as well check to see if Suzanna was there, before making an ass out
of himself, running through an empty house, calling her name like
some pathetic loser.

Besides, it had been a couple of months since
he’d seen his cousin, Joey Morretti. Used to be Joey called himself
Two Eyes, back when he wanted to believe he was part of the
Bayonne, New Jersey, Mafia. If there even was a Bayonne chapter of
the wise guys.

Aunt Sadie had said Joey called himself Two
Eyes so he could remember how many he had, a statement that pretty
much summed up Joey Morretti.

Candy’s biological mother was Joey’s sister,
Cecily, once known as the airhead of the family but now better
known as the conniver, thankfully at a distance from Candy, both
physically and legally. When Cecily had temporarily adopted the
handle Moon Flower and gone off to Tibet to find herself—or so
she’d said—she’d left Candy on Jack’s doorstep.

Changing Jack’s life forever.

Of course, along the way to his current
happiness, Jack had found himself having to deal not only with
Candy, and a fairly belligerent Keely, but also with Cousin Joey,
who had tried to gain custody of the baby.

Which, Tim thought now, would have been about
the same thing as handing the kid over to be raised by penguins or
something.

Still, in the past year or so, Joey had
changed. For the better.

“Like he could have gotten worse?” Tim
muttered to himself as he got out of his car and looked at Joey’s
license plate that read, STUDLEY1. “Cripes. Studley One? Studley
five million and six, I would have believed.”

As he approached the door to his brother’s
house, it opened, and Studley One came skipping out. “Hey, Tim-bo!
Just coming out to check on my wheels. Can’t be too careful with
this baby, ya know. I don’t want it boosted.”

Tim looked at his cousin. Still short, of
course, but with his dark blond hair no longer dyed black to make
him look more like the Italian side of his heritage. No longer
dressed head-to-toe in black, either. Although plaid Bermuda shorts
and black Banlon socks were never going to take the fashion world
by storm.

“I think your wheels are safe here, Joey,”
Tim said, adding to himself,
at least the ones that haven’t
already fallen off your trolley.

“Yeah, guess so. Hey, nice wife, Tim-bo. I
brought a wedding gift with me, ya know, since I wasn’t invited to
the wedding.”

“Nobody was invited to the wedding, Joey. We
eloped to Vegas.”

“Uh-huh, heard that. So, wanna know what it
is?”

“What what is?” Tim asked, stepping left,
then right, trying to get past his cousin. Suzanna was in there. If
he had to pick his cousin up and toss him on top of his “wheels,”
he’d do it.

“The present. Don’t you want to know what I
got you guys? It’s one of those things that shoots salad all over
the place. The deluxe model. Nothin’ but the best for my cuz, ya
know. Besides, if you’re looking for Suzanna, she’s not here. She
and Jack went to the store for more liverwurst for Aunt Sadie.
Bruno already ate it all.”

“Bruno? Who’s Bruno?” If Suzanna wasn’t
inside, he might as well stay outside. Because if he was in for
lectures from Aunt Sadie and Mrs. B., he could wait to hear
them.

Joey rolled his eyes, then hitched up his
plaid Bermuda shorts. “Ya know.
Bruno.
Bruno Armano, my
fighter. Well, used to be my fighter, until he went to cooking
school. Now he’s assistant to the pastry chef in this really
hotshot place in Bayonne.”

“There’s really hotshot places in Bayonne?
Just kidding. So, your fighter, huh? Oh, yeah, I remember now. The
mountain you tried to pass off as the muscle that was going to hurt
Jack if he didn’t hand over Candy to you. I thought he was called
Sweetness.”

“Yeah, well, not anymore. Seems someone asked
him his name one night when we were hanging at a local bar—because
we’re still friends, ya understand? I’m loyal that way, ya know.
Anyway, Bruno says his name is Sweetness, and this guy, he takes
exception.”

Tim was barely listening. He was too busy
listening for a car to pull into the driveway, with his wife in it.
“How so?”

Joey made a face. “People are strange,
Tim-bo, ya know that?”

Tim looked at his cousin, noticing that he
was wearing about half a dozen gold chains around his neck, one
holding a large round charm that looked like it contained a tiny
photograph of the cast of
The Sopranos.
“Yeah, Joey, I’ve
heard that. I even believe it.”

“Well, this guy, this really
strange
guy, he takes exception to Bruno calling himself Sweetness, which
was just his boxing name, ya know? Sweetness, the Beast of Bayonne.
He says to Bruno, he says, ‘Hey, there’s only one Sweetness and you
ain’t him.’“

Tim nodded. “Walter Payton, right. Chicago
Bears. Hell of a player, and a real class act as a man. I can’t
really blame the guy if he was a fan.”

“Yeah, that’s what the guy says. Football
player. Damn phenom, Payton was, ya know. The best, just the best
there ever was, right? We all know that. But Bruno, he don’t follow
football; he don’t know nothin’, ya know? He picked the name
Sweetness because he likes sweet stuff. So he looks at this guy,
blinks his big dumb baby browns, and he says—‘Who?’ And the guy
yells out.

“
Heresy!”—
and then decks him. Pow! You
remember Bruno’s jaw?”

“Glass, right?”

Joey shook his head sadly. “Crystal. Down he
goes, splat. When he got up, he said that’s it, from now on he’s
Bruno again. So, he’s Bruno again. Don’t call him Sweetness,
Tim-bo, not unless you want to see a six-foot, six-inch guy ducking
behind Candy—for cover, ya know. According to Bruno, you never know
when there’s another fan out there somewhere what could take
exception.”

Tim smiled. Good old Joey, always good for a
diversion. “I’ll remember,” he promised, then stepped past his
cousin, who finally seemed willing to let him go, as he was already
moving off to check his wheels. “Is the birthday girl inside?”

“No, the birthday girl is standing right here
on the porch, waiting for her kiss. Terrible game, Timothy. I’ve
seen better swings on a rusty gate.”

“Thanks, Aunt Sadie, I can always count on
you for a pep talk,” Tim said, climbing the steps to drop a kiss on
the woman’s papery cheek. Sure enough, there was the paper hat, the
leis, the birthday button, the whole nine yards. “You look great.
Not a day over ninety.”

She aimed a slap at his behind as he entered
the house, then followed after him. “No need to be facetious,
Timothy. And if you’re looking for your wife, she’s not here. And,
if you’re planning to be sulky or nasty or anything else we don’t
like, I’m warning you now that Keely, Margaret, and I, solely or
once formed into a very small but very nasty mob, will throw you
out of here on your ear.”

Tim turned to look at his aunt. “Jack said
that Keely said that Suzanna said that I was to act like nothing
was wrong. But you know?”

Sadie Trehan sniffed. “Poor, poor Timothy.
We’re women. Of course we know. We know
all
of it, every
last little detail. And I’m horribly ashamed of you, Timothy. I
always thought you were the smart one.”

“No, you didn’t. You always thought Jack was
the smart one.”

She leaned close to whisper, “I just tell him
that to make him feel better.”

“But I’m supposed to be the handsome one. I
kind of liked that.”

Aunt Sadie gave an exaggerated sigh. “You do
know you and Jack are identical twins, correct?”

He gave her another kiss on the cheek. “What
I know, old woman, is that I’ll never get anything past you, will
I? Now, where’s Mrs. B.? I want to know what she’s told Suzanna
about Margo.”

“The unwed mother, you mean? Margaret hasn’t
told her anything. We’ve decided to leave that up to you. Ah, such
a sad frown, Timothy. Were you hoping we’d do it for you?”

“Until this moment, no, I hadn’t thought
about it. But if you guys want to, hey, that’s okay with me.”

“I’ll just bet it is. Don’t be a wimp. Ah,
there’s Suzanna now; they must have parked out back and come in
through the kitchen. I recognize her laugh. Make her cry, Timothy,
and I’ll have to punish you.”

“You’d have to get in line, Aunt Sadie.
Suzanna’s got first dubs. Now, if you’ll excuse me...?”

Tim headed down the hallway toward the
kitchen, pursuing the sound of voices, of laughter.

“Sure,” he muttered under his breath. “Happy,
happy. Let’s all be happy.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Mrs.
Butterworth piped up from behind him, “Poor boy. And just think,
only yesterday, all Tim’s troubles seemed so far away.”

He turned, slowly, and glared daggers at his
old teacher. “I’ll bet you’ve been waiting
days
to say that
one to me.”

“Hmmm, maybe years. It’s always the ones who
ride the highest that have the farthest to fall. That’s not the
Beatles. That’s the old pride cometh before the, etc. Oh, and you
look terrible.”

“Only because I crawled here from Philly on
my hands and knees. Is Suzanna in the kitchen? I thought I just
heard her laugh.”

“Yes. She laughs, she talks, she is proving
that other than her ridiculous notion that you’re one of the good
guys, she is a sensible human being. You married her because she
seemed the lesser of three evils, Tim? What were you thinking?”