MAKE ME A MATCH (Running Wild) (19 page)

Good, cheap and fast—pick two

When everyone was too miserable to cry or scream or even talk, the seats jerked alarmingly and then ever so slowly started to move downward. A cheer went up from the ground, and after a week or so, they were at the bottom.

Eric’s legs felt rubbery, and he had to lift Simon bodily out of the seat.

Tessa was shivering, holding Ian against her. Water dripped off her nose, her hair was flat, and her pants had huge wet patches down the front. Her silk jacket was sopping.

There was only one thing to do. “We need to take these guys home,” Eric sighed. “They need a hot bath.”

“So do I,” Tessa said, shivering.

“We’ll get you under cover, and then I’ll run and get the car.”

Eric wondered if he could find a cab to drive him to the car.

“I’ll be back for you in twenty minutes, max.” He took off his jacket and draped it around her, and then hurried them over to a covered concession and ordered hot chocolate and burgers and fries and fudge sundaes and everything else he could think of to keep the kids occupied until he got back. It was still pouring.

“Take your jacket,” Tessa said.

“You keep it.”

There weren’t any cabs handy, so he ran. He was panting by the time he reached the street where the van was parked, but at least he was as wet as it was possible to get, so that was one problem out of the way. The other problem was, the van didn’t seem to be parked there anymore.

Maybe he had the wrong street. He jogged around the block, and then around two blocks, but by then it was beginning to dawn on him that he could circumnavigate the whole of east Vancouver and still not find his beloved van, because either it had been towed, which wasn’t likely—there were no signs forbidding parking on this street—or some rotten, discerning bastard with excellent taste in vehicles had stolen his pride and joy.

“Damn.” He thought up a string of even more creative curses when he remembered that he’d also left his cell phone on the seat, which meant he was going to have to hammer on someone’s door and convince them he wasn’t a mass murderer just so they’d let him use their phone and report the theft to the cops.

Except that was going to take time. He glanced at his watch. He was already ten minutes past the twenty minutes he’d promised Tessa he’d be, and the boys weren’t famous for their patience.

The hell with the cops. It hurt him deeply to abandon the Volkswagen this way, but for the time being, there was no choice. He’d grab a cab, rescue Tessa, get the boys home, and then deal with cops.

Where were all the cabs when he needed one? He was almost all the way back to the fair by the time he snagged a Black Top. He asked the driver to wait while he got Tessa and the kids.

“Ten minutes,” the sullen driver informed him. “Lots of fares, can’t waste time.”

“So leave the meter running.”

“How do I know you will ever come back?”

Eric forked over ten dollars as holding money and then loped over to the gate.

“I already paid,” he told the ticket vendor. “I’m just picking up my family. See, that taxi is waiting.”

“Where’s your ticket stub?” This wasn’t the friendly weather person who’d been there a few hours ago. This bald guy looked like a Friday night wrestler moonlighting. Eric went through his pockets and then remembered that it was in the pocket of the jacket Tessa was now wearing. He explained this politely, but the guy just shook his head.

“No stub, you pay”

Eric had learned his lesson about punching people in the nose. He paid again.

Tessa was sitting where he’d left her, bedraggled and very out of sorts. “You took your lousy sweet time,” she snapped. “These poor kids are freezing, and Ian got sick.”

Eric saw the pool of vomit on the ground.

“I barfed on Tessa,” Ian said proudly “We cleaned it with water, but she still stinks and so do I.”

What could he say?

“Tess, I’m sorry. I’ll explain why it took me so long, but right now there’s a cab waiting, and he isn’t a patient or trusting man.”

“A cab? But where’s the van?”

“Vaporized. Stolen. Towed. One of the above.” Dragging the kids between them, he hustled them towards the gate. Thank god the cab was still there. Eric handed Tessa and Ian and Simon into the back and got in the front with the driver. He gave him Sophie’s address, and the driver took off like a plane heading for the end of the runway.

“Hey, buddy, slow down, we got kids in the back.”

The driver no longer spoke English. Eric glanced at the nametag on the visor and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Either slow down, Rashneesh, or stop right here and let us out.”

Rashneesh rolled his eyes to heaven but he did slow. By now they were in heavy traffic, so speeding was impossible anyway. Instead he tailgated and muttered under his breath at other drivers until a sleek black Mercedes ahead of them stopped suddenly.

Rashneesh swore in Hindi and ground down on his brakes, but velocity won. They hit the other car’s rear end with a resounding crash, and Simon and Ian and Tessa all started screaming.

There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the full. . .

(Shakespeare)

It wasn’t much of a jolt, but Rashneesh fell apart. “Oh, goodness gracious me. Oh, I am very, very, very sorry, is everyone hurt? Oh, goodness gracious, this is terribly awful.”

Eric determined that no one was hurt, but both kids were howling and between them and Rashneesh the noise level was deafening. Then the driver of the car who’d been hit bustled up to the driver’s window, a small, thin elderly woman with gray hair pinned up in a bun.

Rashneesh’s window was open and he began his goodness gracious speech, but she didn’t hesitate.

She reached in and smacked him several times on the side of the head with her hand.

“Idiot. Maniac. Lunatic. Look what you’ve done to my boyfriend’s new car.” She thrust her head in past the cowering, gibbering driver. “I’ll need all your names as witnesses.”

A patrol car appeared, which interested Ian and Simon enough that they shut up. The efficient cop stopped traffic until the two vehicles could pull to the side of the street, where the feisty little woman took half a lifetime writing down names and phone numbers, license numbers, business numbers, first, last and middle names, and every other detail except the size of Rashneesh’s penis.

At Eric’s urging, the cop called for another cab, and finally they got to Sophie’s.

Leaving Tessa in the cab—this time the driver was a careful, pleasant young woman, and it was definitely a better class of cab, although it had begun to smell strongly of vomit—Eric carried the boys inside, one on each arm.

Sophie opened the door.

“We had an accident. The taxi hit a lady in the rear end and she hollered and the cops came and Ian barfed all over Tessa,” Simon reported.

“And we nearly died on the Ferris wheel,” Ian added. “And then we ate a lot of ice cream and stuff and I think I’m gonna barf again.”

Sophie looked at them and sighed. “Get in the bathroom quick.”

“Uncle Eric’s not getting a sex change, but he promised I can when I get big,” Simon announced.

Ian began to vomit halfway down the hall. Simon came to look and started gagging, and Eric made a fast getaway.

He got in the back of the cab, relieved to find it still there. He’d fully expected Tessa to abandon him. He put a grateful arm around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

“Don’t get close to me, I stink. My shoes are wrecked, my slacks are splotched with mud, I think this silk jacket is shrinking as we speak, and my hair has gone ballistic from the rain. Here’s your jacket back, thanks. Be careful because I didn’t get everything off it.”

He tried to think of something soothing. “You hungry?”

“Are you nuts?” She shuddered. “I don’t have a strong stomach. I may never eat again.”

“I hope you know this didn’t go the way I’d planned it, Tessa.”

“You have no idea what a relief that is.”

“I just wanted the whole thing to be perfect.”

“It was perfect, Eric. It’s the most perfectly horrible afternoon and evening I’ve ever spent.”

“I suppose this means you won’t go anywhere with me again.” He tried to sound pathetic because that worked sometimes. He sighed. “Can’t say I blame you.”

She gave a huge yawn. “Oh, I don’t know. Remember what you said about a school for the socially challenged? You were right, you do need help. I couldn’t really recommend you as a match for clients, not the way you are.”

“And you’ll work with me on it?” This friendship thing was really tough on a guy. How did therapists manage it?

“I might consider it. At a price.”

“How much?” If it was his body, he was too worn down to argue.

“I’m a little nervous about buying Synchronicity. The only lawyer I know is in Calgary, and I could use good advice.”

“I have a friend who’s a lawyer.” Good old Fletcher. “How about catching a movie tomorrow? We could have dinner after and then you could give me pointers, and then later we’ll go over your business concerns.”

But then he remembered his van was gone. Each time he remembered, he felt worse about it. “As long as you don’t mind me picking you up in one of the company trucks?”

“A dump truck?”

“Either that, or I could always rent a limo.”

“The limo’s tempting, but with your track record I can’t see you really pulling it off. Maybe you’d better come over and we’ll rent a video instead. And we can order in. There’s less chance of car wrecks and broken machinery and rain that way.”

“You sure that’s what you want to do?”

“I’m sure. I love watching videos.”

“Okay. What time?”

“Six-thirty.”

The cab driver drew up and parked in front of Tessa’s house.

Eric leaned over and kissed her slow and deep because kisses were going to have to be enough, at least for a long time. He could hold out, he was a strong, stalwart man.

“Night, Eric.” She slid across the seat and he almost had it made, but then she hesitated. “I guess you don’t want to come in for a while?”

He was trying hard to remember why sex with her wasn’t a good idea. It had something to do with Nema and feeling used, but the details were getting fuzzier by the moment.

“Sure.” He couldn’t help it. He’d fought the good fight, and he’d lost.

He paid the driver off and followed Tessa in the door, and fifteen minutes later, they were naked in her shower, and he had renewed admiration for detachable showerheads.

The breaking point for Sophie was water. It came an hour and fifteen minutes after Eric had dropped off her nephews. She’d gotten most of the vomit off the rug and the walls, and they were out of the bath, angelic looking and rosy in their pajamas, watching television in the den.

The phone rang. It was a call from one of the other docs at St. Joe’s. A patient Sophie had treated and released several weeks before was back in emergency claiming she’d given him the wrong drugs. The guy was obviously an addict, working the system, but the situation was complicated and the sound track on the cartoon channel loud.

She walked into the kitchen and talked for ten more minutes before she was aware of muted giggling coming from the den. She’d learned in the past couple of days that giggling wasn’t a good sign. Ending the call, she hurried down the hall.

Simon and Ian were on their knees in front of the gas fireplace, which she’d turned on earlier because of the rain. Each boy had a large bottle of Evian, and they were squirting the last of the water on what had been the flames.

“What are you doing? Give me those bottles right now.”

She had visions of the entire building exploding. What happened when water was poured on gas? She didn’t know, but now she was going to have to call the super and find out.

“You two get into that bedroom and into bed, don’t you dare set foot out of it again tonight. And there’ll be no cartoons in the morning.”

She knew her voice was shrill. She’d dealt calmly with missing limbs, torn bodies and schizophrenia, and now she was shrieking and shaking because of two little boys.

They ran off to bed, giggling like demons, and she tried to mop up some of the water, understanding for the first time exactly how children got beaten.

“We have to pee, Auntie Sophie.”

“Then get in the bathroom, and make it fast.”

The door closed behind them, and she heard the lock engage.

“Simon? Ian? Open that door.”

Water began to run, full force. It sounded as if it was coming from both the sink and the bathtub, with the faucets on full.

“Open that door, boys, or so help me, I’ll make you sorry.”

She pounded and threatened and then tried bribery. Nothing worked.

She called Eric, who wasn’t home and wasn’t answering his cell, and the super, who had a pager and didn’t respond. When water began to trickle from under the bathroom door, she gave in to hysteria. The water turned into a stream, and with the last shred of her sanity, Sophie called Rocky.

He was home, he had a cell phone, and on his way over he talked her through finding the main shut-off valve, under the stairwell in the crawl space, which someone had once showed her but which she’d forgotten.

She turned the handle and the sound of water stopped, but there was now a river pouring under the door and soaking her beautiful new rugs, and they were going to mildew and stink and she’d have to replace them, and she’d offered to keep her nephews for ten whole days, and it had been four nightmarish days and three nights, and she wanted them gone.

When the doorbell sounded, she was sobbing. She threw the door open and tried to fling herself into Rocky’s arms, but that was difficult because he was carrying a huge toolbox and several devices that resembled surgical instruments.

“Thank god, you’re here, they’re demons from hell,” she wailed. “I can’t do this anymore, someone has to come and take them away,” she gabbled as he set the tools down and her arms went around his neck. “I know they’re my nephews, but I never want to set eyes on them again. No wonder Karen went bonkers. Nobody could deal with those two and stay sane. They’ve ruined my rugs, there’s water everywhere, the bathroom door is locked and they’re in there.”

A new thought filled her with horror. “Omigod, the bathtub’s full. What if they drown? It can happen in seconds. What’ll I tell Karen?”

“Hey, Sophie, take it easy.” Rocky’s arms closed around her, and she thought
, This is what it took to get him to hold me?

His mouth was close to her ear. “I’ll get them out. I can do locks, and there’s a machine in the truck that’ll suck up the water. Demons from hell don’t usually drown in the tub. It’s going to be fine.” He used his thumb to wipe tears off her cheeks and smiled down into her eyes.

“I did teach them to float, at the pool.”

It felt like every one of her fantasies, being in his arms, only different. She’d never envisioned water, at least not this way. Reluctantly, she pulled away so he could get to work.

“Coming in, guys,” he called to the boys. Within four minutes, using some kind of lock pick, he had the door open. Simon and Ian had discarded their wet pajamas in the middle of the lake that was the bathroom floor. They were standing beside the bathtub, stirring a large bottle of Sophie’s best bath oil into the water with the end of the toilet plunger.

“We’re making potions,” Simon announced.

“Look, Aunt Sophie, this turns the water blue. I bet when I add this, it’ll go purple.” Before she could move he poured in her new bottle of Poison perfume, and Sophie’s hand itched to turn parts of his anatomy red.

Simon gave Rocky a gap-toothed grin. “Hiya, Rocky, how come you’re here?”

“Because you guys’ve made a bad mess of your aunt’s nice house,” Rocky told them. “That’s not what good guys do, and you’re good guys, right?”

Choruses of right set Sophie’s teeth on edge. Liars, into the bargain.

“So you’re gonna have to work with me to clean this up. First thing, you pull the plugs out of the sink and the bathtub so that water can go where it belongs, down the drain.”

The naked demons did it with enthusiasm.

“Now we’re gonna use towels and get rid of this water on the floor.”

Sophie handed out a stack and they set to with a vengeance, and Rocky praised their efforts.

She escaped to the kitchen. Her hands were shaking. She recited aloud the list of calamities she’d managed with cool aplomb in the ER: car crashes, multiple injuries, near fatalities, explosions. Not once had she ever lost it this way.

She actually felt dizzy, as if she was going to faint.

Low blood sugar. She poured herself orange juice, then added two good inches of vodka from the bottle she kept in the freezer.

She needed it, because having Rocky here unsettled her nerves beyond what the boys had already done. She looked her very worst. She’d changed out of the suit she’d worn to the meeting into sweats, and she hadn’t bothered with underwear or makeup. And she probably stank of vomit.

She heard Rocky talking away to the boys, cheerful and patient, apparently showing them what a toilet plunger was actually used for. Now why hadn’t she thought of that? She could have taught them the finer points of anesthesia and had them practice on each other.

Rocky went out and came back with a vacuum that sucked up water and he and the boys used it on her hall carpet. He patiently allowed Simon and Ian turns with it. There wasn’t even a fight over whose turn it was.

She was a total failure as an aunt. The only other thing she’d ever failed at was getting Rocky to notice her. Why had she ever dreamed of a time when she’d be a mother, when she couldn’t even get the aunt part right? No wonder Anna was balking about getting pregnant; for once in her life, she was thinking straight.

Sophie took the glass into the study, only then remembering that the gas fireplace was out, thanks to large bottles of her Evian water. She sat on the sofa and sipped her drink and plotted.