“That boy’s got an arm on him,” he went on. “You let me know if you want me to throw the ball around with him. I’d be happy to teach him my fastball. I call it the Jessup Special.” Eddie mimicked a slow pitch with an elaborate flourish to his wrist. “It’s all in the release.”
She gave him a sad smile. Ball practice was supposed to be for dads. But she gave him an appreciative nod. “I’ll do that, Eddie. Thanks.”
Laura practically leapt on her the moment she returned to the kitchen. “He still out there?” she demanded in an angry whisper.
Something about it annoyed Helen, and she intentionally answered in a normal volume, “Who, Eddie?”
“Shhh!” Laura stole a peek through the pass-through, staring in his direction for more than a few seconds. “Good Lord, how many coffees can one man drink?”
Helen took a step toward the door. “Want me to go ask?”
Laura swung to face her, pinning her with a flat stare. “Do you have a problem?”
Helen feigned confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I thought we girls were supposed to stick together.”
She laughed at the concept as she went to unload the industrial dishwasher. “I didn’t realize we were on the same team.” She had to step back to avoid the cloud of scalding hot steam—some women went to the spa for facials; Helen unloaded dishes.
Laura looked momentarily flustered. “Well…we are. On the same team.”
Sorrow chimed in, “Give him a break. I’m pretty sure Eddie’s bad-boy days are way behind him.”
“Still,” Laura said, “I try to steer clear of men like that.”
“Mm-hm,” Helen acknowledged, but it was mostly to be polite. She didn’t look away from the sturdy white dinner plates as she got into a rhythm, systematically drying and stacking them in the cabinet. “I’m sure you do.”
“What does that mean?” Laura’s voice came out a squeak.
Helen thought on it a moment. She was concentrating on her work. The comment hadn’t meant anything, not really. And anyway, since when did what she thought matter one bit to Laura Bailey? Helen was way too tired and full of her own problems to craft double meanings or spend her time psychoanalyzing the girl. Seemed like Laura made drama for herself, while there she was, drowning in crises not of her own making.
Stay away from men like that. Eddie was a good and simple man, and just then, good and simple seemed like heaven. She put down her dishrag, and, letting out a gusty sigh, she met Laura’s eyes. “Honey, what I wouldn’t do for a man like Eddie.” When the Bailey girl shuddered, she gave her a wicked smile. “Come on. He’s cute.”
“He’s not cute,” Laura said vehemently.
She raised her brows and gave the girl a pointed look. “Come. On.”
“All right,” Laura relented. “Fine. Eddie’s cute, okay? But he’s, like, twelve.”
“He’s your age.” She swallowed her real comment, which went a little something like, You might be special, but the clock ticks for you as much as it does for the rest of us. The whole thing made her want to needle the girl, so she added in a feminine purr, “Plus, he’s some ball player. Did you see the home run yesterday?”
Laura took over dish duty, which spoke volumes to Helen. If the older Bailey girl was resorting to manual labor without being asked, she really was troubled by something. “Yes, I saw that home run,” she said tightly.
Helen couldn’t help it; she decided to bait her. “Of course you did. It took them five minutes to find the ball in the bushes. He’s so good at all the outdoor sports.”
“Some people call that a ski bum.”
“He has his own business.”
“Yeah, one that’s trying to take us down.”
“Seems like your mind’s made up,” Helen said, but what she thought was, what she wouldn’t do for a ski bum.
Forget cute. If she could find herself a bum half as reliable as Eddie Jessup, she’d be on him like white on rice.
Seven
Crossing the border into Nevada, a man didn’t need to travel far till he spotted his first casino. They were everywhere, especially once you hit the bigger towns, a common sight on street corners, with signs that cried LOOSEST SLOTS IN NEVADA! and TEN DOLLAR PRIME RIB. Those slot machines were as prevalent as ATMs—in grocery stores, motel lounges, strip malls.