Left for Alive

by Tom Hogan

  He listened, then smiled. “Eighty degrees and not a cloud in the sky…well, no wonder then—all you guys know how to do is freeze and swelter.”

  He listened some more. Then: “Don’t give me that museum crap. You visit museums, you don’t live in ‘em….Okay, I’ll give you that, but…” He looked up as Donna walked quickly into the L, Harry in her wake. “One of us just got saved by the bell,” he said and handed the receiver to Donna.

  Donna mouthed “who is it” but Lucky just shrugged. “Hello, this is Donna,” she said, frowning at Lucky, who stayed by the phone. “Alexis?” Her voice rose an octave. “What’s up, girl?”

  It was a mistake, Donna admitted to Carol two days later, inviting William along for the ride to San Francisco to meet Alexis’s flight.

  “But you had that call with New York, Pete and Clark were busy getting Number 4 ready for her, Harry was in school, and Paul had that meeting with the Michelob folks.”

  “What about Josh?”

  “A waste of breath.”

  “So what was the mistake with William? The guy gets along with everyone.”

  “Will was smitten by her before we even picked up her luggage. He started talking to her as we were leaving the terminal and didn’t shut up until we pulled in here.”

  “William as a magpie. Hard to believe.”

  “Oh, you’ll get your chance this evening. I don’t think he’s talked out. Not by a long shot.”

  Josh and Paul returned from their run shortly before dinner. Alexis greeted Josh at the door with a warm hug that caught him by surprise. Then she shook hands with Paul. “Good to meet you.”

  “My pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Alexis looked over at Josh. “And I thought you weren’t the kiss-and-tell type.”

  Josh reddened. “It wasn’t me.” He motioned at Donna. “There’s your promoter. She seems determined to have everyone like you.”

  “I can’t see why that should be so difficult.” She looked at Paul. “I know it’s early, but do you like me?”

  His smile broadened. “I like anyone who can make my brother blush.”

  Alexis spent the rest of the afternoon and evening getting acquainted, first with Harry—who was delighted to play jeeps with a professional driver—then the rest of the camp during happy hour. The Gimp joined them for dinner, which turned into a tag-team history of the mountain community and of Moetown, with The Gimp and William trading off story after story.

  At one point, as William was talking about the history of the mountain range, including the indigenous people who had established the original communities, he saw Donna smiling at Carol.

  “What?” He looked from one to the other.

  “You must have been a helluva professor,” Donna said.

  William cocked his head. “I don’t know if you’re making fun of me or not.”

  “I’m serious. This is the first time I’ve seen what you must have been like before you fell in with this crowd.”

  As they were getting ready for bed later that evening, William said, “How long have we known each other, Lucky?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And in that time have I ever been stupid over anyone?”

  “Nope. Not that that’s necessarily somethin to be proud of.”

  “So what do you think of her?”

  “Didn’t give it much thought. She’s not my type.”

  “Hell, if it’s got a pulse, it’s your type. When did you become so selective?”

  “When it became clear that you were stupid over her. And especially when it became clear that she wasn’t stupid over you.”

  William looked up from buttoning his pajamas. “I’m touched, I think. She isn’t interested in me, is she?”

  “Not the way you want.”

  Most nights of Alexis’s week-long visit concluded at The Gimp’s. On the second night, The Gimp had given her the tour, starting with the different downstairs rooms and then moving upstairs. He showed her the customizations that he, Josh and Clark had made—the rope escape in case of fire, the altered shower and bath, the lowered folding tables in the laundry. During the tour he tried The Move but could see quickly that she’d been warned. The tour concluded, they headed back downstairs, where Alexis joined Donna, Clark, Lucky and Josh.

  The Gimp wheeled back behind the bar and came to a stop across from Paul, William and Carol, who were seated on stools, their backs to the crowd. The Gimp nodded back towards the table. “You boys just taking a break or playing hard to get?”

  “We’re licking our wounds,” William said. He motioned for a refill of the empty pitcher.

  The Gimp looked at Carol. “No. Not both of my prize stallions.”

  She nodded. “Afraid so.” She saw The Gimp looking over at the table. “Don’t make it oh-for-three, Gimp. Two bruised egos are all I can massage at a time.”

  “I tried upstairs and got shut down,” The Gimp said. He looked from William to Paul. “One or the other of you—that I could see. But both?”

  Paul took a sip of his beer. “I think she’s lez.”

  As he saw the looks of disbelief, he tried to pretend he was joking. Carol barked a laugh. “At least I can focus all my sympathy on William. Your ego could survive a direct artillery hit. My God, Paul: you’re like one of those Logic 101 formulas: ‘I’m a man. Alexis isn’t attracted to me. Therefore Alexis must not be attracted to any man.’”

  “Since I don’t want any of us getting impotent about this,” The Gimp said, “I’ll give you my bartender’s observation: I think we’re looking at a case of Joshitis.”

  “No,” William said. “I’d have noticed it.” He looked over at Carol, who raised her eyebrows. “Unless I’m missing something?”

  She smiled. “She’s very subtle about it, but The Gimp’s right.”

  William looked back over at the table, watching the interplay. “Huh. I feel better already.” And he headed over to join the table.

  “I don’t see it,” Paul said, heading off to the pool room.

  “Poor puppy,” The Gimp said in his wake. “It’s good for him. Or do I sound just a little jealous?”

  “Just a little.”

  “Well, it’s true. Too much comes too easy to that guy. You know?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Like right after I first met him. He and Josh were just back from their run. As an ex-jock, I always admire guys who have those washboard abs. Josh has them, and you know they came from thousands of sit-ups in the joint. Earlier Paul had mentioned that sometimes he gets modeling work—swimsuit catalogues—just because of his stomach. I joked with him that this was probably the only benefit from being in the joint—the time to do all those sit-ups. He looked at me with this blank expression, said he’d never done a sit-up in his life.”

  He nodded towards the now-empty hall. “So I don’t mind seeing him take a lump or two now and again. It makes up for all those sit-ups he never did.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Alexis’s return ticket was for Monday evening, but The Gimp talked her into staying until Wednesday so that she could catch The Sliding Values in action. Though named by William, they were The Gimp’s creation—a softball team made up of mountain and Moetown residents, who, over the years and under The Gimp’s determined coaching, had evolved into a strong team that normally won its region and did well in the state championships. This year had concluded with the team holding a 13-1 record and hosting the first playoff game on Tuesday night against the Santa Rosa champions.

  All of Moetown plus most of the mountain were in attendance Tuesday—either on the field or in the stands along the first-base line. Their counterparts—twenty Santa Rosans, most of them women—were in the third-base bleachers.

  “Nice uniforms,” Alexis said, as they took a seat next to Donna. “Sporty.” The Santa Rosa team, the Balls and Strikes, was in
purple and gold, their backs sporting a bowling ball crashing into a row of pins, their fronts carrying their sponsoring bowling alley’s name. The Values were in white pants with orange piping, complemented by kelly green jerseys.

  “I know. But don’t say anything. The Gimp designed them himself.”

  Down on the field the Balls and Strikes finished their warmups and vacated the field. The Values took their place, the outfielders moving into place to shag flies and the infielders trotting out to their positions. The Gimp wheeled himself out to home plate, where William was waiting with three softballs, tossing one to The Gimp as he approached. In one fluid motion The Gimp caught the ball, picked up a sawed-off bat from his lap, and rapped a sharp grounder to Randy, the third baseman, who gloved it smoothly and threw over to Clark at first base. The Gimp repeated the process with Josh at short, Carlos at second and Clark. Then he repeated the routine, this time placing the ball so that they had to reach or even dive to stop it from going through.

  “They look pretty good,” Alexis said.

  “They are. They came in second in the state the last two years. They’re The Gimp’s pride and joy. He pays all the fees, even though he doesn’t even put the bar’s name on the uniforms. Josh has offered to help with the fees, but The Gimp will have none of it.”

  Warmups concluded, the teams went back to their benches and stretched, while the captains stayed out at home plate and reviewed the ground rules with the umpire.

  “Good trip?” Donna asked.

  “Great trip. Everyone’s made me feel at home. Even Josh. And I’m taking Harry home in my luggage.”

  “In your dreams. Speaking of Josh, you still interested, now that you’ve seen the beast in his natural habitat?”

  Alexis looked over. “I hope you don’t think that’s why I came out here.”

  “I don’t. And neither does anyone else. But most women I know who’ve ever met Josh—myself included—gets at least a mild case of him.”

  “Well, it’s academic, anyway. Chicago is too far away and life’s too short to beat your head against a wall.” She hesitated. “But … he’s intriguing.”

  The night chill pushed Donna’s hands into her windbreaker pockets. “I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I think Josh likes you. William agrees. Whether it’s the way you might want, I can’t say. But I will say this: Josh is more comfortable with you than any woman I’ve ever seen him with.”

  “You’re right. Hard to believe.”

  Donna watched as the teams took the field, waving at Pete as he took his place in right field. “Remember the other night when we were leaving The Gimp together—you, me, Clark and Josh? On the way out of the bar, remember how you tripped?” Alexis nodded. “And Josh caught you before you fell?” Another nod. “I know it seemed like just instinct to you, but believe me, when it comes to women, Josh doesn’t do anything by instinct.” She looked over. “In the past—and I know you won’t believe this—he would have let you fall before he’d touch you.”

  As the game got under way, Donna nodded towards the field. “Know much about the game?”

  “Not much. Just explain it to me as we go along.”

  “I’ll do better than that.” She cupped her hands. “Hey, Gimp,” she called. “We got a rookie here.” She looked over at Alexis. “It’s a tradition around here. He likes his fans to be informed.”

  “Come on down, Lexi,” he said, patting the bench next to his wheelchair.

  “I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “Not a problem. It keeps me sharp, explaining things.” Alexis looked over at Donna, who shooed her with her hands.

  “Okay, I’m going to assume you know squat about baseball.”

  “Good assumption.”

  “Okay, Lucky’s our pitcher. Not the fastest guy in the league, but probably the smartest. Keeps you lunging and guessing all night. And he’s not afraid of putting one in your ribs, if you get too comfortable up there.”

  “Does he cheat? I mean, it’s Lucky.”

  “Not often, but he keeps his belt buckle sharp. Cuts the ball when he needs to. Puts a downspin on his curve.”

  He nodded towards the batter. “Will’s our catcher. He’s got two jobs—call the game and block the plate. He’s great at the first, lousy at the second.”

  “I don’t understand either term.”

  “Block the plate. If their runner is trying to score, William’s supposed to put his body between the runner and the plate, make them go around him or through him. Will won’t do that, says he’s too old and has too much dignity for this macho crap.” He grimaced. “I’d put Clark there, but no one calls a game like Will.”

  He looked over at her blank face. “Calling a game. Will decides what each pitch should be and communicates that to Lucky with hand gestures. It’s like chess—he figures out what the batter likes to hit—or is expecting—then calls for something else. Will’s a master at it. Plus, he talks to the batters while they’re trying to concentrate. Bugs the hell out of them.”

  He kept his eyes on the field but reached over and patted her leg. “Enjoying your visit?”

  “A lot.”

  “Think you’ll be back?”

  “Sure. But you guys should come to Chicago, too. If not for the museums then for the ballparks. I’ve driven enough sports fans to know that Wrigley is a shrine to most guys.”

  “I meant back here to live.”

  “What makes you think I’d do that?”

  “Because we like you and you like us. Because Cabin 4 is almost ready. And because you’ve got a crush on my shortstop.”

  Before she could respond, he continued his lesson. “Any baseball book will tell you that you need to be strong up the middle. Carlos is at second—good hands, not much of an arm, but the fastest guy on the team. Josh is our shortstop, kind of the general on the field. Tells the outfielders where to play each batter and what base to throw to. Also, the most balls get hit to short.”

  He pointed with his sawed-off bat. “Randy’s at third. You play third with your chest as much as you glove. Also, wear a cup, if you know what I mean.” When she shrugged, he continued. “First base doesn’t get a lot of groundballs, which is good because Clark hates grounders. But he’ll catch anything you throw at him, which is what’s important. Plus, he hits the ball a ton.”

  “And the area beyond the infield? I’m going to take a guess—the outfield?”

  “Aren’t we the cute one. Benny’s in left. Good wheels, no arm. Pete’s in right. Slow, but hits more homers than anyone on the team. Paul’s out in center. He’s faster than his brother—if it goes up in the air, he’ll get to it.” He nodded to one last player. “Ray’s our rover—he can go anywhere on the field. He goes where either Josh or I send him.”

  He patted her leg once more. “That’s it. Ask me whatever you want as things go along.”

  Lucky was on his game, varying his speed and angles so that the Santa Rosa team either tapped weak grounders or struck out for the first few innings. But the Values could do little better against the Santa Rosa pitcher, a large-chested figure whose long, heavy arm slung the ball in white streaks.

  Santa Rosa threatened in the fifth on a walk and a double. With two outs, their pitcher scorched the first pitch into the gap in left-center, made larger by Paul shading to right field to cover for Pete. Paul was off on the swing, his smooth strides closing the gap with deceptive speed. At the last moment he dove, his glove outstretched to his backhand. The ball settled into his glove just before it hit the ground. He rolled over once, then sat up, exposing the ball to the ump, whose thumb went up into the air.

  The Gimp grabbed Alexis’s shoulder, shaking it powerfully. “That sonofabitch. Didn’t I tell you? He gets to everything.” He let out something between a growl and a shout as Paul trotted in, Josh waiting for him at second base, tapping his glove in acknowledg
ement.

  The game remained scoreless into the sixth, though it was clear that each team was starting to figure out the other pitcher. Twice Josh robbed the Strikes of a hit with diving stops up the middle; the Values, for their part, were making more solid contact with each inning, with Pete finally breaking the tie with a long home run that gave the home team a 1-0 lead heading into the last inning.

  In the top of the seventh, William switched from the off-speed stuff and called for Lucky to throw nothing but fastballs. The change caught Santa Rosa off guard and the first two batters struck out looking. The next batter, though, made solid contact, driving a low line-drive towards right-center. Pete took a few hesitant steps, but his eyes, like everyone else’s, were on Paul.

  Even though he was shaded in that area, Paul had little chance. But he dove full out, stretching his arm out in front of him, no thought to bracing his fall. The ball bounced a full foot in front of him and looked like it was going to bounce over him. In an instinctive move, Paul reached his free hand, knocked the ball back in front of him, and scrambled to his feet. Gathering the ball quickly, he fired a strike to second base, holding the runner to a long, seemingly impossible single.

  It was a spectacular play by any measure—even the Santa Rosa team applauded. But Paul simply stood there, hands on his hips, dirt and grass clinging to his chest.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Alexis asked The Gimp. “Even I can see that was a great play.”

  “Paul’s wound a bit tighter than the rest of the guys. Also, if he’d made that catch the game’s over and we’re all talking about that play for the rest of the night.” He turned back to the field. “Okay, Lucky. One more.”

  Unperturbed, Lucky rocked and fired. There was a dull crunching sound as the batter connected. Benny just turned and watched the ball sail over the fence for a two-run homer. Lucky struck out the next batter, but the Values now trailed 2-1.