Penalty Box

by Deirdre Martin

  “You still talking to me?” she asked.

  “I guess.” He paused. “It is possible, you know.”

  Katie’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Tuck.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Tuck said brightly, changing subjects completely. “Gary Flaherty invited me to sleep over his house tonight. Can I?”

  The request brought Katie up short. Just because she disliked Liz was no reason to dislike her son. Gary and Tuck did seem to get along well. In fact, Tuck had taken to referring to Gary as his best friend. “Let’s see what Nana says. If it’s okay with her, then you can go.”

  ———

  Katie had never been to Windy Gables except on Sunday afternoons, and was frankly surprised to find she was allowed to visit on a Friday night. After being checked to make sure she wasn’t smuggling any drugs or alcohol inside, the attendant at the front desk buzzed for Mina. She appeared from around the corner, looking casual in an oversized sweater and jeans. She seemed genuinely happy to see Katie.

  “Geez,” Mina said, lightly taking Katie’s arm as they walked down the hall, “don’t you have anything better to do on a Friday night than hang out here?”

  “Not really.”

  “What about your hockey boyfriend?”

  “I’ll see him tomorrow night.”

  “Can’t take him two nights in a row, huh? I hear that.”

  Katie had never thought of it that way, but she supposed Mina was right. Paul insisted on being at his bar on Friday night, and though he always asked Katie to join him, she never agreed. She simply wasn’t a bar person. Besides, he spent the whole night playing happy host. He didn’t need her there.

  Katie had never been in Mina’s room before; she’d only met her sister in the lounge. She was surprised to find a very simple but tastefully decorated room with two twin beds. Mina hopped onto the bed closest to the window, sitting cross-legged opposite the most intimidating-looking man Katie had ever seen in her life.

  He was at least six foot two, with a shiny bald head and a long, scraggling moustache. Tight black jeans hugged his massive thighs, while a black leather vest covered his bare chest, revealing bulging biceps covered in tattoos. He had a skull tattooed on top of his left hand and spitting cobra tattooed atop the right.

  “This is Snake,” Mina said, picking up the deck of playing cards in front of her.

  Katie graciously extended her hand, trying to remember all that Mina had told her about him. She knew he was clean and sober and rode a motorcycle. Oh, and he had an apartment and was willing to put Mina and Tuck up until they found a place of their own. An image flashed in her mind of Snake dropping Tuck off at school on his motorcycle. She made it disappear.

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Snake. His voice reminded Katie of nails tearing down sandpaper. Snake was obviously a smoker.

  “You, too.” Katie edged closer to the bed. “What are you guys playing?”

  “Rummy,” said Mina, dealing the cards. “Snake’s too dumb to play poker.”

  Snake chortled darkly. “Yeah, right.”

  Katie sat down. “Mina? Do you think I could talk to you for a minute?”

  “Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Snake.”

  Snake nodded sagely, exchanging a three of clubs for an ace of hearts.

  “Okay.” Katie puffed up her cheeks, blowing out her breath. “It’s about Tuck. He’s convinced Paul van Dorn is his father.”

  Mina snorted. “I wish!”

  “Who the fuck is Tuck? Rummy!” called Snake, throwing down his cards.

  “You can’t have rummy that quickly!” Mina frowned. “You cheated!” She gathered up the cards. “Tuck is my son. I’ve told you a million times.”

  Snake narrowed his eyes. “You never told me you had a fucking kid.”

  “Yes, I did,” Mina countered angrily. “Remember? When you said I could crash with you when I got out, and I said it wouldn’t only be me, it would be me and my son, and you said that was cool?”

  Snake grunted. “I guess I forgot.”

  Mina screwed up her eyes. “You doin‘ H again?”

  “No, I’m not doin‘ H,” Snake replied, looking offended. “I just got a lot on my mind right now. The kid’s cool, the kid’s cool. As long as he doesn’t get in the way.”

  A look passed between Snake and Mina that made Katie uneasy. Get in the way of what? she wondered. Their screwing? Their setting up a crystal meth lab in the kitchen? Katie hated thinking that way but Snake didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

  “You in?” Mina asked Katie, holding up the deck of cards.

  “No, I’m fine. You two play, I’ll just babble.”

  Snake chuckled. “She’s funny, your sister.”

  Katie threw Snake a look. “I’m in the room, you know.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Snake?” she ventured. “What’s your real name?”

  “Snake,” he answered gruffly.

  “You expect me to believe your mother named you Snake?”

  “I named myself Snake when I was reborn into the brotherhood of the highway,” Snake replied solemn] v, the look in his dark eyes letting Katie know this line of questioning was going no further. “That’s all that matters.”

  “Gotcha,” Katie answered. Reborn into the brotherhood of the highway? Yeah, this guy was a great role model for Tuck.

  “So, what’s up with Tuck?” Mina asked, dealing the cards.

  “He’s doing really well on the hockey team,” Katie began. “Paul’s been putting him on the ice a lot.”

  “Hockey’s for pussies,” Snake muttered.

  Katie bristled. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Name a sport you think isn’t for pussies,” Katie challenged. Rolling midgets? Crushing beer cans against your forehead?

  Snake thought. “Bowhunting. Sports ain’t macho unless something dies.”

  Katie found herself dumbstruck for the second time in one day.

  “I’m glad he’s having fun,” said Mina, furrowing her brows as she decided which card to put down in place of the one she’d just picked up.

  “He is, but today in the car, he told me he thought Paul was putting him on the ice a lot because he was his father.”

  “Poor little fucker,” said Snake.

  Katie took a deep breath, trying to ignore him.

  Mina seemed distracted. “So—what do you want me to do about it?”

  “Well, when he’s here with me on Sunday, maybe you can set him straight.”

  “Katie, I can’t just bring it up out of nowhere,” Mina said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s weird! If he asks me who his dad is, then I’ll tell him. But I’m not just gonna, you know, bring it up.”

  “Do you know who his dad is?” Katie blurted.

  “Not exactly,” Mina said, watching Snake intently as he perused his cards. “It doesn’t really matter.”

  “It does to Tuck,” Katie pointed out. “What have you told him in the past when he’s asked?”

  “Not to ask again,” said Mina. She and Snake laughed.

  Katie blinked. You’re a bad mother, she thought. You’re a bad, shitty mother and you don’t deserve a kid like Tuck. “Don’t you think he deserves a better answer than that?” she said quietly.

  “Who are you, Mother Theresa?” Mina snapped. Snake guffawed loudly, prompting Mina to grin. She obviously enjoyed having an audience.

  “No,” Katie said. “I just—”

  “—want what’s best for him,” Mina mimicked. “Look, I’m his mother, I’ll handle the situation as I see fit. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Katie bit out.

  Her tone must have gotten to Mina. Mina’s face softened, and she put down her cards. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a cranky bitch.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” She rubbed her arms anxiously. “It’s just really hard, Katie. Figuring out w
hat to tell him and what not to tell him. If I say I don’t know who his dad is, I look like a total slut. If I tell him who I think his dad might be, then he might grow up and track these guys down.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  “Yeah, it’s bad,” Mina spat out. “One of ‘em’s married with three kids.” She looked at Katie sheepishly. “I was always looking for that daddy figure, I guess.”

  “It’s better he don’t know anything,” opined Snake.

  “Who asked you?” Mina sneered.

  “I’m just sayin‘ it won’t kill him not to know. I never knew who my old man was and I turned out fine.”

  An image of Tuck ten years on began coalescing in Katie’s imagination: he was covered in tattoos, flying up and down Didsbury’s hills on a jerryrigged chopper, his name changed to ‘Cuda.

  “Yeah, you turned out great,” Mina jeered affectionately. She touched Katie’s arm. “I’ll do what I can if the topic comes up,” Mina promised her. “Okay?”

  Katie sighed in capitulation. “Okay.”

  ———

  Fourteen-seventeen Hillhurst Drive. That was the address Katie was looking for as she crawled the affluent streets of the Ladybarn neighborhood in her ear, looking for Liz Flaherty’s house. Weybridge, Cavendish, Claremont— even the street names conjured images of wealth. Back in high school, when Katie was restless and couldn’t sleep, she would sometimes imagine these leafy silent streets, dreaming about how wonderful it must be to live in one of these grand houses, with their built-in pools and lush English gardens and security systems. She, assumed everyone who lived here led a charmed, golden life, free from the pain and suffering of plain existence. It wasn’t until years later she realized wealth was no protection from dysfunction or misfortune. Every family had skeletons and heartache.

  Rounding Tittenhurst, she slowed her pace even more. A police cruiser going in the opposite direction slowed as it passed her, the officer behind the wheel blatantly staring her down. Did he think she was casing the neighborhood? The thought amused Katie immensely.

  She finally found the house, a huge mock Tudor mansion boasting a small koi-filled pond and a tennis court. In the drive sat a sky gray Mercedes. Beside it, a red Dodge truck that Katie recognized as belonging to Lane, Gary’s nanny. It was Lane who usually drove Gary to and from hockey practice. She seemed nice.

  Katie parked her humble Neon behind the Mercedes and sat a moment, engine running. Would it be rude to just honk the horn for Tuck to come out? She wasn’t sure she could deal with Liz Flaherty on an empty stomach. It was ten a.m. Liz probably wasn’t even up yet. Katie killed the engine and headed up the front walk. Her usual Saturday morning attire consisted of yoga pants and a T-shirt, but not today; on the off-chance she might encounter Liz, she wore chinos, a sweater and a touch of makeup. She remembered something her mother had said years ago: Women don’t dress for men. They dress for other women. Boy, thought Katie, was she ever right about that.

  Katie rang the doorbell, praying Lane would answer. Her hopes were dashed when the ornately, carved wooden door opened to reveal Liz in tennis whites.

  “Katie.” Her voice was like dry ice. “Come in. I was just on my way over to the country club. Do you play?”

  “What, tennis?” Katie asked, stepping over the threshold. “No.”

  “Pity. It’s a wonderful game. Invigoratingly competitive.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” said Katie, gazing around the massive marble foyer that was bigger than her mother’s house. She tried not to gawk or feel envy. It was truly a magnificent home.

  “Is Tuck ready?” she asked politely.

  “The boys should be down in a moment,” Liz replied, an unpleasant smile frozen on her frosted pink lips. Katie couldn’t escape the feeling she was being sized up. From the moment she’d stepped into the house, Liz’s eyes had swept her from head to toe several times, assessing, perusing. She knew Liz did that to everyone, but the intensity and displeasure of Liz’s gaze made this feel more personally intrusive somehow. Katie glanced away.

  “Did Tuck behave?” she asked, focusing on the gorgeous spiral staircase.

  “A perfect angel,” Liz assured her. “Although someone does need to teach him the proper way to eat soup. He tends to slurp.”

  Katie grit her teeth. She was not going to take the bait.

  “How’s your book coming?” Liz asked.

  “Fine,” she replied, surprised Liz was able to retain a fact about someone other than herself in her head.

  “About athletes, isn’t it?” Liz’s tone was pointed.

  “About how team sports shape male identity.”

  “Not exactly bestseller material.”

  Ignoring the barb, Katie looked up at the ceiling, then at the artwork in gilt frames lining the walls. “This house is really beautiful,” she made herself say, hoping the change of topic would help.

  “Well, it helps to marry a rich man.” Liz regarded Katie. “That is one of the reasons you’re sleeping with Paul van Dorn, isn’t it?”

  Katie stared at Liz. “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, c’mon,” Liz purred as if they were the oldest and dearest of confidants. “I know all about you and Paul.”

  How?! Then it came to her: Tuck.

  “Honestly,” Liz continued, picking up her tennis racket and swinging it as if hitting an imaginary ball, “there are other ways to ensure your nephew gets lots of ice time besides screwing his coach.”

  “How dare you?” Katie hissed.

  Liz leveled her with a shrewd stare. “I could say the same to you.”

  Katie’s hand shot out to stop Liz’s racket in mid-swing.

  “I’m not in the mood for games, Liz. Speak plainly or shut up.”

  Liz’s mouth curled into a sneer. “You think he’s all yours, don’t you?”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t understand.” Liz clucked her tongue. “No, of course you don’t.” Carefully placing her racket against the wall, she sauntered over to a Chippendale sideboard, returning with a rolled-up pair of socks. “Will you please return these to Paul? He left them here.”

  Katie’s chest constricted. “You’re a liar, Liz.” “Check with Gary,” she replied, smiling sweetly as she retrieved her racket and headed out the door. “Sorry. Gotta run. Don’t want to be late for my game. Enjoy the rest of your day, Katie. I’m sure you can find your way out.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Katie wolfed down another bite of her chocolate donut as she stared forlornly out the windshield of her car. Leaving Liz’s, she dropped Tuck off at home and drove directly to the nearest Dunkin‘ Donuts, where she ordered a large coffee and a dozen donuts to go. Still in the parking lot, she had worked her way through two jellies and one Bavarian creme before diving into the chocolate. She washed down another big bite with a shot of hot coffee. She didn’t care if this was a bad way to cope and she didn’t care if she got fat again. The donut was delicious and the taste of sugar and fat as it filled her belly made her feel so much better. At least for now.

  Liz’s bombshell had knocked her for a loop. The minute Katie got Tuck in the car she’d wanted to interrogate him, demanding to know if he’d told Gary about her and Paul. But she was so heartsick and upset she knew she’d make a mess of things. Better to wait until she was thinking clearly to find out how the cat had slipped out of the bag.

  She didn’t know what to think or believe. So what if Liz handed her a pair of socks, claiming they were Paul’s? Any idiot with socks could do that. It was Liz’s chilling, “Check with Gary” that clinched it. For Liz to even say that… Katie smashed the rest of the donut into her mouth. Was it really possible Liz’s nine-year-old son could vouch for Paul’s having spent the night—maybe many nights—at Liz’s? Katie lay her forehead on the steering wheel. “I knew I should never have come back to this stupid town! I knew it!”

  Her hand crept back to the open box of donuts beside her. Lifting her head, she went to take a bite of a sugar-glazed
she’d pulled out, then stopped herself. Stuffing her face was only masking the pain, not solving it. She needed to deal with the real issue. She closed the box and stashed it on the backseat, intending to bring it home. Her mother and Tuck would be delighted.

  She felt better, if only for a minute. The real issue was Paul. Was he cheating on her? Salty tears trickled down the back of her throat. Crying meant she cared and she hated that. She didn’t want to care. She didn’t want to hurt.

  She had to talk to Tuck and Paul and find out what was going on. Paul would deny sleeping with Liz. Tuck would deny telling Gary. But Tuck was a terrible liar. All Katie had to do was stare at him, maybe speak sternly, and he’d cough up a confession. In that regard he was more like her than Mina.

  ———

  “Tuck? Can I come in?”

  Katie knocked softly at Tuck’s bedroom door, which he’d started to lock. Katie understood completely: It was the only way to get any privacy, and it drove her mother crazy.

  “Come on in,” Tuck grumbled, unlocking the door.

  Katie was surprised to see a book in his hand. Usually his butt was glued to the chair in front of his computer.

  “What are you reading?”

  “Harry Potter. Gary let me borrow it.”

  Katie nodded approvingly. Liz might be an intimate of Lucifer, but Gary was a nice kid. He was exposing Tuck to new things, which was good. So much of Tuck’s life up until now had been about deprivation.

  “Do you like it?”

  Tuck shrugged. “It’s pretty good.”

  “Mind if I sit down?”

  Tuck shrugged again, pushing a pile of dirty clothing off a nearby chair and onto the floor. An aroma arose, that of sweat and dirt and mischief. Katie was glad to see his room was a bit untidy. It meant he finally felt at home. “Am I in trouble or something?” he asked nervously.

  Katie sat. “Why would you think that?”

  “I dunno.” Tuck perched on the edge of his bed, bouncing anxiously. “Usually people only come to my room when it’s something serious or something.”

  “That’s not true. Nana comes to your room all the time to give you your clean laundry and change your sheets.”