Dumping Billy

by Olivia Goldsmith

  Restless, she got up and went to the window. Michael’s building, a large white brick postwar complex, consisted of several hundred boring apartments, but the views from the upper floors were spectacular. She looked out the window down at Turtle Bay. She could even see a glimmer of the East River. “It looks like it’s clouding over,” she said.

  Michael came up behind her and wrapped one arm around her chest and shoulder, like a high collar on a coat. “Well,” he said, “we could either go out and skateboard competitively or we could lie down in the bedroom. The choice is yours.”

  Kate laughed and let him take her hand, leading her to the bed, though she wasn’t certain she was in the mood. But when they were lying down and he had undressed her, she relaxed into his kisses. When he bit her, gently, on the back of her neck, it sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. She began to forget herself in the trance of sexual pleasure that began to rise slowly like a tide at full moon. She felt his hands slide over her, deft and knowing, if a little predictable. When he rolled from his side on top of her, she wanted him. Swept away by the rhythm of his movements and her hungry response, Kate felt good for the first time that weekend. She closed her eyes and felt the rise of an orgasm about to take place. At the edge she whispered, “Yes.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and then Billy Nolan’s face flashed before her, as clear as it had been the night before. She caught her breath and groaned, but it was not with pleasure.

  When Michael came, Kate realized to her dismay that she was relieved.

  As they lay there together, she thought about the bowling plan. She couldn’t imagine Michael running down the lane, but she had to go with him or Billy would continue to believe that she was his date. She couldn’t take Elliot, because any man could tell there were no vibes between them—at least not the sexual kind. And her guilt compelled her to end the charade as quickly as possible. “Michael,” she whispered, “are you asleep?”

  “Not quite,” he murmured.

  “I want to ask you something.”

  He turned to her with that deer-in-the-headlights look men got when they thought you were going to talk about “the relationship.”

  “How do you feel about bowling?” Kate asked.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Pee-yeuw!” Bina said as she, Kate, and Michael struggled to get their rented bowling shoes on.

  “Strike!”

  “You lucky son of a bitch!” Behind them, a bunch of blue-collar bowlers were in some sort of fierce competition, either bowling or drinking—or perhaps both.

  They were at Bowl-a-Rama. The noise was thunderous as pins fell and madmen screamed. “The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat!” Kate chirped.

  “The agony of de feet is only starting,” Michael quipped, looking down at the smelly shoes. It seemed that Bina had qualms, too, but they were more fashion-related.

  “Do you think this red goes with my outfit?” she asked Kate nervously.

  “Sure,” Kate told her, though the shoes were hideous, as was Bina’s new outfit. Kate could see that Barbie had “helped” dress Bina for the big occasion.

  Thinking of that, Kate scanned the crowd, looking for Billy Nolan. All was chaos. In the lanes next to them, a league was just finishing up, and the clash of orange-and-brown shirts was almost nauseating to look at. Kate herself was wearing a simple white shirt and jeans, while Michael was wearing a sports coat, perhaps the only sports coat in a ten-block radius.

  Bina stood up. Kate reassessed her outfit and realized that the short black miniskirt would reveal all when she bent over to release the ball. Her clingy green top was set off by a fuchsia scarf, Barbie’s trademark color. Unfortunately for Bina, the scarf gave her face a mauve cast that clashed with the blouse. Oh well, Kate thought, nothing would make this double date from hell work anyway.

  They were assigned an alley, and as they slipped into the molded plastic seats, Michael, ever the gentleman, asked if they would like something to drink. Bina asked for a cola, and before she thought about it, Kate ordered a beer. She imagined that Michael raised his brows before he went off to the bar.

  The moment he was gone, Bina turned to her. “Where is he, Katie?” she asked, eyeing the entrance. “He said he’d be here on time. Maybe he’s going to stand me up. Oh, I’m so nervous.”

  “Calm down, honey,” Kate said. “He’ll be here.” In truth, she was nervous herself. She knew she had deceived Billy, though Bina hadn’t a clue. And if she couldn’t make the transition gracefully and make it look as if any confusion were a natural mistake on Billy’s part, she was afraid of the fallout. Billy Nolan wasn’t going to be thrilled when he realized that he’d been tricked into an evening with Bina.

  “God, I’m sweating through my blouse,” Bina said. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room and check my makeup one more time.” She stood up and wound her way through the bobbing heads and fat bellies in the crowd.

  Michael returned with the beverages, and Kate saw he had also bought some snacks.

  “Bina’s looking . . . um, different since the last time I saw her,” he stammered.

  “Well, I think you only saw her when she was having a case of the hysterical fantods,” Kate reminded him.

  “No, that’s not what I mean,” Michael said. “She looks . . . jazzier.”

  “Please! She looks like she belongs in the cast of Forty-second Street,” Kate told him. She realized she sounded as tense as she felt. She put her arm out and took Michael’s hand. “It was sweet of you to come,” she said. “Launching Bina in her new life is really important after what she’s been through.”

  “Well, it didn’t seem to take her long to recover,” Michael said. He sat down and picked up a paper cup of soda. For a moment Kate felt irritated. Because of her background, she had always looked for a man who avoided drinking to excess, but perhaps never drinking at all was a bad thing. It occurred to her for the first time that Michael might be terribly afraid of losing control.

  He squeezed her hand. “It was sweet to see you at work last week,” he told her. “I suppose that you could do that anywhere. Or even have a private practice.”

  “I like working in the school setting,” she said, her mind elsewhere. “You get more feedback about behavior and change.”

  He didn’t respond, and she craned her neck, looking first to the ladies’ room and then to the door, hoping that this mad scheme with Billy would work out. At that moment, Billy walked into the bowling alley. He spotted Kate before she could even raise her hand and walked over to their lane. Damn Bina, Kate thought. It was going to be difficult enough to subtly show him who his date was; now it would be virtually impossible. What the hell was she doing in the ladies’ room for so long, taking a shower?

  Kate introduced Billy to Michael. They shook hands. Kate couldn’t help but notice how incredibly attractive Billy looked. He was wearing very old black jeans and a slightly clingy T-shirt of the same color that revealed the body of a natural athlete. She could see his arms and figured the guy didn’t have 2 percent body fat. Typical narcissist, she thought. He must be a gym rat to have that kind of bicep definition. And she was amused to see that he had his own equipment. She hadn’t known anybody who owned their own bowling ball in fifteen years.

  Billy dropped his bowling bag on the seat next to Kate. “Let’s rock and bowl!” he said, looking down at her a little too intensely.

  Kate stood up quickly, scanning the bowling alley. “Bina will be back in a moment,” she told him.

  “Fine,” Billy said, clearly not at all interested in Bina’s whereabouts. To her alarm, he put his arm around Kate’s shoulder. “Hey, you look great,” he said, his voice way too personal.

  Kate quickly stepped out of his embrace and moved closer to Michael, who was still seated. She put her hand on Michael’s shoulder. Billy paused for a moment, then sat down and began to put on his own shoes. Kate, feeling both guilty and awkward, sat beside Michael. Michael, as if in response to Billy’s overly warm greeting, put his a
rm across the back of the seats and rested it on her shoulder.

  Billy looked up from his laces and eyed the two of them. “You two just meet?” he asked. “Or are you related?”

  “No. We’ve been going out for a while now,” Michael replied innocently. Kate thought she saw Billy’s face color up, but he looked down again at his shoes.

  Just then, to Kate’s enormous relief, Bina returned to the lane. She looked as if the entire research staff of Max Factor had worked her face over. A great look for bowling. But when she smiled, her natural warmth showed. “Well, hey,” she said to Billy as she sat beside him.

  Billy looked from Kate to Bina. And then he looked back across at Kate, leaning against Michael’s proprietary arm. “I was afraid you weren’t going to make it,” Bina told him. Kate tried to avert her eyes, but not soon enough. From the look on Billy’s face, she knew that he now understood what was going on and was clearly unhappy with the territory as it was currently staked. She decided to hope for the best.

  “Okay,” Kate said, sliding into the double seat behind the scorekeeping board. She quickly entered their information into the keypad, and their names lit up on the overhead screens—hers with Michael’s and Bina’s with Billy’s. “Now we can get started.”

  “Yeah,” Billy said, looking at the screen, “but what are we starting?”

  Kate thought she heard some anger or maybe bitterness in his voice but felt it was best to just ignore it.

  “We can’t start,” Bina whined. “I haven’t found a ball.” She looked at Billy and did everything except bat her eyes. “Would you help me?” she asked. Then she licked her lips. Kate wondered if she had confused Elliot’s ridiculous instructions and was trying to annoy instead of arouse.

  Billy shot Kate a look, and it said everything. Then he grabbed Bina’s hand and, without taking his eyes off Kate, stood up. “Sure,” he said. “I’m no expert with balls, except my own, but I’ll try. Though it often seems to me that other people have a lot of balls.”

  Kate blushed. She knew this type of behavior; she had seen it with her child patients. He was going to act out and make sure she paid for her little deception by being as horrible as possible. Billy and Bina left the pit, and Michael waited until they were out of earshot.

  “Charming,” he said. “Will he discuss other parts of his anatomy as the night progresses?” He sat beside Kate in the scoring seat. “How long have you known him?” he asked, echoing Billy, consciously or not.

  Kate was surprised to feel a slight surge of pleasure at his possessiveness. “Oh, he picked up Bina at that wedding I went to,” she replied.

  “A friendly guy. And well equipped,” was all Michael deigned to say.

  Then Bina and Billy returned from the rack. Bina was carrying a hideous-looking bowling ball, blue with patches of fuchsia. “We finally found a ball that matches my scarf!” Bina said with excessive enthusiasm. “Billy helped me.” Kate restrained herself from shaking her head. Bina was acting as if the selection of a piece of sporting equipment were akin to slaying a dragon. She held up the hideous ball, then nearly dropped it. Kate remembered, all at once, just how klutzy Bina was. “Klutzy, smutzy,” Mrs. Horowitz used to say. “As long as you get good grades.” Bina then attempted to stick her plump fingers into the tiny holes.

  Billy, meanwhile, unzipped his bag and took out a much larger black ball. “And look,” he exclaimed, laying on the sarcasm, “I found a ball that matches my outfit, too!”

  Kate, concerned about hurting Bina’s feelings, decided to comment. “Well, you’re wearing all black and you coordinated by bringing your own ball.”

  Billy served Kate an insincere smile. “That did make it less of a challenge.” He looked over at Michael. “Hey, Mike, how big is your ball?”

  “Ten pounds,” Michael answered. “And I prefer to be called Michael,” he added flatly.

  Kate saw him narrow his eyes. It was clear that he wasn’t enjoying himself. But it seemed as if he also sensed or observed that something was going on between her and Billy.

  Bina reached over for her cola. “I haven’t been bowling since Annie Jackson’s sixth-grade birthday party. Remember, Katie?”

  “How could I forget?” Kate said, smiling at the memory. “I threw up Pop Rocks all over myself.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Bina squealed. “Gross.” She looked over at Billy, licking her lips again.

  Billy joined the two of them at the scoreboard. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, and put his foot down right beside Kate’s and on her shoelace. Kate moved her foot away, pulling out the bow. “I think some women look cute in their own vomit.” Kate, totally nonplussed, pulled her foot up to the seat and quickly retied her shoe.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve had plenty of opportunity to see it,” she said, and turned to Michael. “Billy works in a bar.”

  “Lots of chances with drunken women,” Billy said. “Right, Mike?”

  “Michael,” Michael corrected. “Not in my experience.”

  “Well, owning my own bar, I’m sure I have more experience,” Billy said coolly.

  Kate was surprised to hear that Billy owned the Barber Bar, if that was, in fact, the truth.

  Billy stared her down for a moment and then wrapped his arm around Bina. “I’m sure I have a lot more experience in quite a few things,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Ouch!” Bina yelled. “Ow. Ow.” She shook her hand as if it were a limp fish at the end of a pole, then put her index finger into her mouth. Kate hadn’t been looking, but as Bina had tried to retrieve her ball from the ball return, her finger had been crunched by another ball spewed from the maw of the machine.

  Billy bent over her hand, taking it in his. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Kate turned away from the two of them and looked at Michael, who was sitting beside her. When she had put together this ridiculous scheme, she had thought of Billy and how he might be angry and difficult. She had thought of Bina and how she might be disappointed. But she hadn’t thought of Michael and the effect that a night of Brooklyn bowling might have on him. She put her arm around him. He was a lot quieter than usual and obviously disturbed by his poor performance. While he was not a jock, Michael was fit and played squash regularly, where, she knew, he was a tough competitor. He didn’t like to lose.

  Kate looked down at the board, then put her head on Michael’s shoulder. “The score doesn’t matter,” she cooed, realizing at once that her tone was the one she used when she was talking to her young patients. “Are you having fun?”

  Michael ignored the question, as he so obviously was not. “I can’t believe I’m coming in third,” he said, and shook his head. Kate wondered if she should try to do poorly, just so Michael would have a shot at second place, but she knew that her score and Bina’s didn’t matter. Michael was pissed because Billy was beating him, and doing it by so wide a margin.

  Just then Billy approached them. He picked up his drink from the holder, then shook his head as he took a look at the scoreboard. “Well, we’re all having a pretty dismal night,” he commented, but Kate thought she saw him smirk as he went up to help Bina prepare for what would almost certainly be yet another gutter ball.

  Kate ignored them and turned back to Michael. She felt responsible for this and didn’t like to see him upset. If she was completely truthful with herself, she’d have to admit she also didn’t like to see him bested by Billy. It was foolish, she told herself, to feel that way or to allow Michael to have that view. It was some vestige of the Homo sapiens fight for alpha male position. “People often confuse athletic scores with personal identity,” she said.

  “Sure. When the Cubs lose my world falls apart,” Michael said, almost sneering.

  Michael was from Chicago, and the fact was that he did root for the pathetic Cubs. But this wasn’t the Cubs pitted against another, superior baseball team. This was Michael pitted against Billy Nolan. And Michael, in a word from her youth, was getting shmeisted.

&nbs
p; “This isn’t that hard. I can’t believe I haven’t rolled a strike.”

  “Oh, it’s just for fun,” she tried to remind him. “Bowling was never your game. Anyway,” she said, waving toward Bina, who was still at the line, dithering, “no one does worse than Bina.”

  Billy, sipping his soft drink, overheard her, grinned, and laughed. “Eye on the head pin, Bina,” he encouraged. Then he put back his cup. “Hey, wait!” he called. He left the pit and stepped behind her, put his arms around her, and changed her stance.

  Kate, watching them, felt a twinge of what she wouldn’t admit was jealousy. Then Bina, guided by Billy, released the ball down the lane—this time with her eyes closed. The group watched as the ball rolled directly down the middle of the lane and almost miraculously knocked over all the pins. Kate’s mouth dropped, but not as much as Michael’s pride.

  “Omigod! Omigod! I hit them! I hit them all!” Bina shouted. She did a victory dance that involved reaching both arms up to the ceiling and incidentally exposing a significant part of the fuchsia underpants beneath her tiny skirt. Kate watched as bowlers from other lanes smiled, pointed, and gave her a thumbs-up sign.

  “Touchdown!” Bina yelled. She gave Billy a big hug, then ran over to Kate. “Katie, I can’t believe it,” she said, her arms under Kate’s while she jumped back and forth. “I knocked them over!” Then, flinging her arms wide, she accidentally knocked the beer out of Kate’s hand and all over the front of Michael’s shirt.

  “Bina, you seem to be on a roll at knocking things over,” Kate said as Michael jumped up.