Steve grinned and chuckled. "Oh yeah."
I frowned. "But he's a damn good pitcher. That's not fair."
"I know."
We made it to the front of the line and I ordered four large sodas. "Then why do you guys give him such a hard time?" I pointed to the hotdog rotisserie and held up three fingers. "With everything please?"
Steve swatted a moth away. "Gotta do something to keep him humble."
I creased a brow at Steve then paid the vendor. Steve took the carton of dogs and drinks, and we started back toward the bleachers. "Humble about what?"
Steve rolled his eyes like he shouldn't have to explain. "Anything possible. Ted's good at everything. Right? And he has this thing about being perfect, so when he fucks up it drives him nuts." The gleam in Steve's eyes made me wonder if some evil jock demon had taken over his body. "So, you know, we take full advantage."
I squinted at him. "Sounds like jealousy to me. Like you're just trying to bring him down a notch?"
Steve grinned and shook his head. "Nah, we just give him a little shit every now and then."
I stopped and put my hand on my hip. "Well that's just mean."
He laughed. "Who are you his mom?" He flapped a hand at me. "It's just a bro thing, Scotti. Come on, admit it, Ted could stand to loosen up a little bit."
I rolled my eyes. "No, it's an evil thing."
Steve chuckled. "See what I mean? Even his girlfriend is perfect."
I gave up. The brothers had a plan, and even Steve, the gentlest among them, was looking forward to the hazing.
When we got back, we found Zelda waiting in the bleachers. "About time, I'm sweating my brains out here." She and Steve grabbed their drinks and dogs, then walked off for a few minutes of privacy.
Ted swooped by, downed his soda and gave me a quick kiss.
I patted his back. "You're doing good, honey."
He ate his hotdog in two bites. "Spoken like a loyal girlfriend."
I glared at the strutting goons drifting back toward the field. "Those other guys are beasts." One of them smiled at me and spit a big glob in the grass. "And disgusting too."
Ted stroked my chin. "You keep that positive attitude baby. It's why I love you."
Then he bounded back out to the mound for more abuse. They managed to rally at the top of the ninth but still lost the game 10–4.
Afterwards, Ted met me behind the chain link at home base. He grinned and shrugged. "Told you." He picked me up in a bear hug, squeezed, then set me down. "But thanks for cheerleading."
I wiped his sweat from my cheek. "Sorry, about the game honey. But look on the bright side — your ass looks great in those tight little pants." I pinched his butt. "In fact, I've always had this fantasy about being a baseball groupie."
He laughed. "Sex fiend."
"No, I think you still hold that title."
Steve called from across the field and motioned for us to hurry. Ted held up three fingers, then turned back to me. "Are you ready for the crucifixion?"
I put my hands on my hips and frowned. He seemed like he was looking forward to the hazing. "The what?"
Ted stretched and fanned out his arms. "I'm buying rounds for the rest of the night at Barney's. And there'll probably be some beer boarding too."
I didn't want to imagine what that meant. "Beer boarding? Sounds painful."
He offered his arm. "Do you want to follow them, or should we swing by later and pick up your car?"
I shook my head. "Sorry honey, much as I'd love to see you get your bro punishment, I'm going home." I cracked a smile. "But take pictures, especially of the beer boarding. Those will be the keepers."
Ted gave me a pouty disappointed look. "You're not coming? It's not that late."
I blew out a breath. "It’s not that. The funeral is tomorrow morning." I looked up at him. "Remember?" I ran a hand down his arm. "Are you sure you don't want to go?"
He hugged me and kissed the top of my head. "No, I'm good. Call me when you get back."
He gave me a quick peck on the lips then turned to leave, but I grabbed his hand and pulled him back. "If you guys are drinking up a storm, who's the designated driver?"
"Melinda." He grinned, knowing the mere mention of his mother's name pushed my buttons. "Who else?"
I scanned the park. "Melinda? She's here?"
"Yeah, she's been here since the first inning. You didn't see her?"
I shook my head and worked to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "Nope, I must've missed her. Oh well, next time, I guess. Have fun." I blew him a kiss and watched him cross the field to his brothers. They jeered, booed and grabbed their crotches. Then they all laughed and headed to the other side of the park to their cars. I frowned. "Family, eh?"
Still thinking about my conversation with Donna, I walked to the parking lot. I hadn't told Ted because there wasn't time, and in truth, he didn't want to hear about it. He'd never admit it but Ron's death had roiled up something he didn't want to face. The nightmare from the other night — and maybe others he hadn’t told me about. The small moments of distance between us. The all-consuming need in our love-making recently. It all revealed a side of Ted that I hadn’t seen before. I didn't know whether to worry or just ride out the storm.
Legs stretched out in front of her, Zelda leaned against the car. "Finally." Inside the car she said, "You're letting Ted go to the crucifixion solo? Without protection?"
I nodded. "He's a big boy. He can handle it. Besides, all those Jordans in one room and drunk? That's more than I can take." I rubbed my chin and looked at her. "Why, did you want to go?"
Zelda shrugged. "It might be fun watching perfect Ted get his balls busted for once."
I started the engine and cranked up the AC. "Sounds like Steve has brought you over to the dark side." I peered through the windshield to the empty field. "I can drop you at Barney's if you want join them."
Zelda slouched in her seat. "Nah. Steve promised to send me the video." She snickered. "They’re planning to post it online."
I shook my head. "For some reason I don’t regret not having siblings as much anymore." I glanced at her. "Did you see Melinda?"
Zelda shook her head, sending her cockeyed ponytail into flight. She chuckled and gave me a little shove. "What, she didn't drop by for a hug and a chat?" Recoiling at the thought, I shook my head. Zelda chuckled. "You better hope you can get pregnant, my friend."
That was like a stab to the gut. "Why would you say that?"
"If you're going to have the Melinda-beast for a mother-in-law, your only hope is grandchildren. She can't kill the mother of her grand kiddies, right?"
I pulled out of the parking space and drove to the exit, once again worried I wouldn't be enough for Ted. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Chapter Twenty-One
Ron's funeral service was held at the Los Angeles National Cemetery. A vast and beautiful resting place for those who gave their lives in service to their nation. There was no gravesite because Ron wouldn't be interred there — his body was to be cremated later that day. A decision by Marika that just about blew Donna's head off her shoulders. The service was held in the memorial chapel whose classic adobe design seemed too cheerful for marking the death of a friend.
Donna, her Uncle Billy and her cousin Tonissa sat in the front row with Marika. Donna's tears streamed freely, a white handkerchief clutched in her hand and held to her breast. A few young men in uniform sat behind them. Four other rows were occupied by a mix of people of different ethnicities and ages — all connected to Ron in ways I didn't know. Friends? Family? Neighbors?
Zelda and I sat in the last row because I worried we were intruding on something deeply personal. We knew Ron in such a superficial way compared to the rest of the people there that I wanted to hover at the edges and not disturb the fragile construct of the ritual. And too because I hoped Ted would change his mind and arrive with the guys in tow — a rag-tag honor guard in their own way. But Ted and the guys never appeared, and we
remained alone throughout the service.
A honors detail carried the draped coffin to the front with sharp and measured movement. With care and precision, the six men placed the coffin atop a stand, and each in turn, saluted. The woeful strains of Taps echoed through the solemn chamber, amid whimpers, soft cries and amens.
The flag was then folded and the Master Sergeant carried it to Marika. He held the folded flag waist high, with the straight edge facing her. Then kneeling on one knee he presented the flag and said, "On behalf of the President of the United States and the people of a grateful nation, may I present this flag as a token of appreciation for the honorable and faithful service your loved one rendered this nation."
Marika accepted the flag solemnly but without tears or any outward emotion. Beside her, Donna cried silently — her face a portrait of profound loss. The Master Sergeant then stood. He saluted slowly and deliberately with his right hand moving slowly up his body and into place. After saluting, he did an about-face and returned to his position with the honor guard, then led the detail out of the chapel.
Pastor Walman from Donna's church, spoke of love and family. His words about the cost of bravery, courage and the ravages of war made me cry. He invited friends and family to join him and share memories of Ron. It was touching to see that Ron had people who truly loved him. I wondered if he knew how much he was loved. And if he'd thought of these people before he closed his eyes for the last time.
A choir sang Amazing Grace without accompaniment and it gave me chills and I cried again.
Pastor Walman ended the ceremony with a prayer: "God our Father, we thank you that you have made each of us in your own image, and given us gifts and talents with which to serve you. We thank you for Ron, the years we shared with him, the good we saw in him, the love we received from him. Now give us strength and courage dear Father, to leave Ron in your care, confident in your promise of eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
<<>>
The wake was at Donna's house where after bidding farewell, Ron’s friends and family could now celebrate his life. The spread was impressive for a pot luck — fried chicken, potato and macaroni salads, gumbo, grilled crawdads in a lemon vinaigrette, lots of fresh greens and fruits, biscuits, pies, cakes and brownies.
What seemed like precious few people at the chapel, were shoulder to shoulder in Donna's little house. The mood was jovial for the most part. As though, it was safe to leave the grieving at the door and rejoice in life once again. I'd only gone to one funeral in my life — for Mama Sadie. She was the closest thing I ever had to a real mother. But by the time Zelda and I were her charges, Sadie was close to the end of her life. Still, that one glorious year with her I wouldn't trade for anything. And maybe my tears were for her too. Of course they were.
Marika stood away from the crowd, quietly accepting condolences but otherwise unengaged. I didn't want to judge her because I hadn't walked in her, but you'd never know Ron had meant anything to her based on her behavior.
Donna introduced me and Zelda to everyone, including Ron's second grade teacher. All lovely people who clearly cared about him. We listened to their stories, and I was swept into a deeper sadness by the loss of this good man. Like Mike, Ron was a real person with fears, loves and personality quirks.
After an hour, Marika said goodbye to a stunned crowd. She either ignored their shock or didn't care. She seemed relieved to go, and I half expected her to tear off her grieving widow togs to reveal a clubbing outfit beneath. Once the door closed behind her, mutterings arose, and I was tempted to join in but I bit my lip.
Donna refused to let the celebration be affected by the Princess, as she called her and got everybody off the subject of Marika. The crowd bounced back and raised their glasses to Ron. It was he we honored and Marika could go to hell all by herself.
I met a few young men from Ron's unit. Nice men, handsome in their uniforms, and exceedingly polite. They had nothing but good things to say about Ron and shared a couple of basic training stories that got me howling in laughter. But at the same time, I regretted never knowing that Ron. We miss so much about people when they're standing right in front of us.
We didn't intend to stay very long, but Zelda was infatuated with Pastor Walman whose skills as a ragtime pianist entranced us all. He knew every song she requested. Zee knew the songs because her Gram had taught them to her when she was little and before she knew she'd spend her formative years in foster homes. So, maybe we were all celebrating Ron but also everybody else who'd left us but weren't forgotten. That thought comforted me.
While the Pastor and Zelda belted out ragtime tunes, Donna pulled me into the kitchen and closed the door. "So?"
I raised my eyebrows. "So?" I repeated back to her like a slightly stupid parrot.
Her dark eyes were sharp and intent like an eagle's. "Have you thought any more about what we talked about?"
I nodded teetering on the edge of taking things too far. "It's a little touchy what I'm thinking about doing."
Donna dragged me to the kitchen table and prompted me to sit. She cut a couple slabs of chocolate cake and poured us each a glass of milk — like we were a couple of teenagers sharing secrets. "I don't understand Scotti, why can't you tell me what you're going to do?"
With a fork, I smooshed the icing on my cake. "Because the less you know the better. And I could be wrong. I could be very wrong." I cautioned her with a look. "You understand what I'm telling you?"
Donna leaned back in her chair, disappointed. "I suppose." She forked off a bite of cake and put it in her mouth. "Mm mm girl, this cake is delicious! You bake like an angel."
I patted her hand. "Just let me check out a few things, okay?" My stomach churned with uncertainty. "I can't promise anything will pan out, but I'll try."
Donna nodded. "That's okay, honey. That's all a body can do is try."
Chapter Twenty-Two
As I parked the car, Zelda let out a whoop. Steve sent her the video of Ted's crucifixion. She snickered and threw me snarky glances as she watched. "This is hilarious!"
I gave her a toothless smile. "I'll bet."
She kept watching and laughing. "Ted is not a pretty drunk." She grinned at me. "Want me to send it to you?" I glared at her and switched off the engine. Zelda waved the phone at me. "Oh come on, Scotti. It's funny. You should watch it so you can bust his balls about it."
I opened my car door. "I don't want to bust Ted's balls. I like them just the way they are." I got out of the car and growled at her. "Just keep it away from me. I don't want to see it."
Zelda gasped, and I ducked my head back inside the car. "What? Did they hurt him?"
Zelda winced and looked up at me. "Shit." She turned the video off. “Maybe you’re right — you don’t want to see it.”
I grabbed the phone from her. "What?" I fast forwarded through to the end, then hit PLAY. "I swear to God, I’ll kill them all if they hurt him."
Surrounded by his brothers, Ted slouched at a table, hammered as hell with a scatter of empty shot glasses in front of him. Then a big-busted blonde walked up to him and said, "Hi, I'm Candy." Ted's head lolled back as he looked up at her. His brothers laughed like nasty frat boys and nodded their heads. Then Candy stuck her chest out and lifted her shirt. "And this is for you."
Teds brothers exploded into laughter, while Ted stared, his mouth hanging open. "Damn," he finally said.
Candy moved in closer so Ted could get a better look. Catcalls came from the crowd in the bar. Everybody was having a grand old time. Except Ted who seemed lost in the presence of gigantic breasts.
My blood pressure was off the scales, and I gnashed my teeth. Then Melinda stepped into frame, whispered something to Candy, and the show was over. Candy pulled down her shirt and wiggle-waggled away. Ted watched, still in some kind of stupor or open-eyed coma.
The parting shot was his brothers smiling into the camera and screaming, "Loser," while holding up the L sign to their foreheads. To her credit, Melinda to
ld her sons in no uncertain terms that the party was over. Even she seemed surprised it had gone that far.
The video ended and I shoved the phone into Zelda's hand. "Call Steve, right now!"
She jerked her head back. "Steve? Why?"
"Just call him. I mean it, Zee. Do it. Do it now!"
She punched in his number, then I snatched the phone from her. Steve answered, his voice thick and low. "Steve, this is Scotti. I just saw your video. So listen up bro. If you posted that garbage online, you better take it down. Now. Because unless you want to ruin your business and your rep you just screwed yourself. And fuck you! And your stupid ass games. You people are disgusting!" I ended the call and tossed the phone at Zelda. "Son of a bitch!"
M.urder R.eady to E.at (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 2) Page 13
