it was just wallpaper paste mixed with soap.”
“Ew.”
“Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” Their pleasant attendant, a college student named Rosie, gave them an expectant look and wasn’t disappointed when Stan asked how much trouble it would be to get a plate of nachos.
“I can make it happen.” Rosie chuckled. “Nachos are on the other side of the stadium, but we’ve got a system.” She held her phone up. “Each section has different options and attendants. Instead of running around like crazy people, we’re coordinating. I can get nachos here in under ten minutes!”
She dashed off to fill Stan’s order. His brother watched her with a strange expression. When she disappeared from view, he remarked, “She’s lucky.”
“How so?” Arnie asked. The girl was working her ass off on a hot summer day. He wasn’t sure she felt lucky.
Stan grew serious. “I never had to work. Not to earn an allowance or for gas or to put a couple of dollars in my wallet.” He snorted. “Look where unlimited privilege got me. Rosie is lucky because she’s in the world, getting shit done. Until a couple of months ago, I was a casual observer.”
“But you’re getting shit done, now, right? Dad tried not to, but he laughed when he told me about your divorce situation. We applaud the irony of your wording. Claiming cruel and unusual torment in the breakdown of the marriage took balls. Well played.”
“She can have the money. All of it. She can have the boat too. I don’t fucking care as long as everyone understands who was the cheating spouse. I’m starting over with a clean slate.”
They finished their double servings of hot dogs and were having a good laugh at some pre-game antics on the field when Stan surprised him with a question out of the blue.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
His knee-jerk reaction caused him to blurt out, “What?”
Stan eyed him with a blank expression. “Seeing anyone? You? Like dating or whatever you do for fun. Maybe you’re into sex slaves. Or Japanese geisha robots. Whatever, man. So, are you?”
Sex slaves and geisha robots. Jesus Christ. Was that how he came off?
“Uh, that would be a no, Stanford,” he replied in a snippy tone. “No to the slaves and robots. Don’t be a dick.”
His brother fixed him with a snarky smirk. “Another thing about sobriety? It cuts through the bullshit. I’m not being a dick by asking about your love life. I talk to Dad all the time now, and you’re one of the topics. His favorite thing to wonder about is the status of your sexuality.”
“Oh, for god’s sake.”
“We assume gay is off the list. Your earlier track record with the debutante slut squad and that episode with the contestant representing Atlantic City in the Miss American Boobies competition took care of any doubt.”
He laughed. How could he not? The boobalicious beauty queen Stan brought up was a part of an epic R&R weekend. He was on break after a difficult assignment in Afghanistan and descended on the beach town gambling mecca with a bankroll and the need to let off steam. A fake-boobed Barbie picked him up at a club, screwed his brains out, spent his money, and screwed him some more. The episode wouldn’t stand out at all if not for a strip poker game the casino security did not find amusing. Barbie was half-dressed, but he was down to his briefs and drawing an admiring crowd when they shut it down. It was years ago, but he still remembered the angry dressing down he got from Darnell Senior.
“What is it you and Dad want to know? Spit it out.”
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend? You’re not ugly, have boatloads of money, and appearances suggest you’re a nice guy. So what gives?”
They wanted to know what gives? Well, let’s see, he thought. It was July. He hadn’t been with anyone since January. Six months of celibacy because he couldn’t find Santa Barbara Summer or get her out of his head.
“Nothing gives, okay? It’s just …” His words drifted to silence, and he grimaced.
“Oh,” Stan murmured. “I get it. There is someone, isn’t there?”
“No.” He shook his head. “No. It’s not what you think.”
“What I think, Arnie, is that you’re acting weird. You can tell me anything, bro.”
He could see his brother was trying and had made a lot of progress. In many ways, Stan was a new man. Kicking him in the head with snark might stop the conversation, but it wouldn’t be