“Devon?” Austin was looking at her with a concerned expression.
She took a little breath. Shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t know my dad played squash, that’s all.”
Hearing the words come out of her mouth, Devon felt immediately better. She was making something out of nothing. Her father had played squash years ago, but now he didn’t. And he had joined forces with Jerry Dunn one year, probably because the two of them just happened to be the strongest players at the club at the time. Simple as that.
Austin nodded, and his easy expression helped calm Devon even more. “So you can congratulate him when you get back to Southampton.”
Exactly. I can congratulate him. And then maybe I can ask him why he hasn’t spoken to Jerry Dunn in twenty years or so.
“Okay, onto the weird stuff,” Austin said. He led her up the next flight of stairs, and now he seemed to be getting genuinely excited. As they made their way to the fourth floor, he was almost hopping up and down. “Have you ever seen Court Tennis?”
His enthusiasm was infectious, and Devon smiled in spite of herself. She was able to let her confusion over those names on the squash board melt away. “No,” she said. “Show me.”
They came to the top of the stairs and then moved into an area of real darkness. She was glad he was still holding her by the hand. “I can’t see anything,” she said.
“Hold on.”
They moved a little farther, and then Devon had the sense that they had come to an opening of some sort. She could feel the difference in the way the air was moving. And in the sound of her feet on the floor. There was an echo.
Austin flipped a switch, and there it was.
“Holy mother,” Devon whispered.
There were only ten Court Tennis courts in the entire United States, and two of them were at the Racquet Club. The court itself looked incidentally similar to an ordinary tennis court, in that there was a net stretched across the middle of the playing surface, separating one player from another. But there the similarity ended. The court was surrounded on all sides by polished stone walls. On one long side, the wall rose straight up, unbroken, all the way to a height of thirty feet. On the remaining three sides the court had a penthouse, or a balcony, that ran continuously around three edges of the enclosure. There were also a series of smaller nets built right into the walls.
“This is ridiculous,” Devon said.
“This is an adventure. We’re seeing new things.”
“I’m seeing new things. You’re just playing tour guide.”
He stepped closer to her, and his footsteps echoed on the polished concrete beneath them. “Well, yes,” he said. “But I also get to do this.” He held her and kissed her, and Devon could not help wondering how many girls had been kissed in this place. She pulled away from him. Gave him a suspicious look.
“Have you brought other girls here?”
“Other girls?” He looked flabbergasted. “Do you have any idea how completely against the rules this is? If anyone caught us, I’d be kicked out of the club immediately. Immediately.”
She thought about this, and she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Okay. So what’s next?”
He smiled. “The Racquets court.”
She followed him out of the Court Tennis enclosure. He turned off the lights as they left, and then they were heading down a narrow hall lined with old pictures. They came to a very small door set deeply into the wall. This door was slightly ajar, and through the opening Devon could see nothing at all. Pure blackness, as though the opening might lead to a tiny, airless chamber. “Through there?” she said doubtfully.
Austin flicked a light switch on the wall and shoved the door open for her. Devon took a breath and stepped slowly into the court. She ducked to avoid hitting her head on the frame of that weird little door.
For the second time that night, Devon shook her head in wonder.
She was standing now in a place that looked something like a squash court, except that it was roughly three times as large. The entire enclosure was made of the same polished, rock-like material she had seen in the Tennis court, except that there were no nets or balconies here. Every surface was jet-black, and Devon saw now why the lights had seemed to be having so much trouble. There was no way to illuminate this place efficiently. The court had so much space, and so much utter blackness, that lighting it up was like trying to light the bottom of the sea.
The door slammed behind her, and Devon let out an involuntary yelp.
Austin stepped into the court, a large green blanket over one shoulder. He came to her and held her, and he kissed her. He kissed her for being game, for being willing to explore a strange place with him. He lifted her up so that she could wrap her legs around him, and he held her there with absurd ease, so that now she was simply sitting in his arms and kissing him from slightly above, holding his head and nibbling at his lips as though she were an animal trying to get to the juicy center of a fruit. He leaned back and held her, and kissed her, and she kissed him back for taking her to a place where she was not supposed to go, a club where women were never supposed to go, and for wanting her to come to visit him in Spain.
Presently he put her down, but she held onto him for another minute. She let herself relax against him, and suddenly she was aware of how tired she was. “What time is it?” she asked, talking to his chest.
“Almost two,” he said. “We have to go back soon.”
She leaned back and looked up at him with a little frown.
No we don’t. We can just stay in this gigantic black room together. We’ll lock that little door, and they can try to drag us away in the morning. Create a scandal.
But instead she said, “Why?”
“Because I have things I have to do in the city for the next two days – work things for Mr. Berducido – and I won’t be able to spend time with you. So I’m taking you back first.”
She considered arguing, but then just as quickly she decided it would be better to let him do his chores and then come back to her. So she nodded.
“We’ll nap for a second first,” he said, and he crouched down to spread out the big green blanket he had brought. “I don’t want to pass out while we’re driving back.”
They lay down together on the blanket, which thankfully was an excellent, double-layer expanse of wool that cushioned them against the unyielding concrete floor of the Racquets court. Devon thought at first that they would find a way to turn this into something more than a nap, but as soon as her body was on the floor she realized that she was deeply, deeply tired. Austin was on his back, and Devon rolled so that she was partly on her side, partly leaning against him. She threw a leg over his to put more of her weight on him, and this somehow made a perfect combination of wool-and-Austin cushion for her.
In less than a minute, they were both asleep.
Austin’s head popped up, and he looked around him at the smooth black concrete. The expression on his face went from confused, to relieved, to worried. He checked his watch, and then he began shaking Devon gently. She was still propped up on his side.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Just a few more minutes,” she mumbled.
“We’ve been asleep for over four hours,” he said. “We have to get going, or the morning staff will catch us.”
Devon’s head popped up. “Four hours?”
“I know.”
They stood and stretched, both very aware of how tired they still felt, and they stumbled out the door to the racquets court.
“Oh, boy,” Devon said. There was light coming through the window. Something about the sight of the sun – an actual indication of morning – made it seem that they would surely be caught.
But it was summer after all, which meant the sun was up early. It was still only six. Austin took them down a set of utilitarian stairs in an interior fire tower, and these led them all the way down to an exit that bypassed the front desk. There was a man on guard in a booth by the exit, and he gl
anced up as they walked past him. He nodded at Austin, who nodded back and hurried along. The guard did not look at Devon.
“Once again, weird,” she said, as soon as they were clear. They were now walking north along Park Avenue, toward the garage where they had parked. “How many people did your boss have to bribe for this little evening of ours?”
“Just the front and back guys, I think.” He smiled. “Of course, now we’re on video, but I doubt anyone checks those things unless there’s been some sort of break-in.”
“Video?”
“They have surveillance for the back exit, just in case.”
“Excellent. I hope my hair looked good.”
“Flawless,” he said, and he reached out to pat the tangled mess on her head.
They climbed into the car, and Austin took a minute to breathe. To make sure he was alert enough to drive.
“Good date,” Devon said when they were finally back on the expressway. It was a Saturday morning, so the roads in this direction – heading toward Southampton – were nearly empty. She pushed her seat as far back as it would go. “Don’t crash,” she said, and she closed her eyes.
“Good night,” he said.
Trouble
1
“Okay,” Austin said.
Devon opened her eyes slowly, pulled herself up from the seat of the car, and found that Austin had driven them all the way back to her house on First Neck Lane. He got out of the car, walked around to the other side, and held the door open for her while she struggled to make her limbs work again. When she was out, he handed her the keys and gave her a peck on the cheek. She told him to wait, told him that he should simply take the little red BMW back to New York with him. “What do I need it here for?” she said.
But he shook his head at her. “My dad knows I’m taking his car for these two days,” he said. “We set this up a while ago. See you soon.”
“At least let me drive you back to your house – ”
But he was already jogging away.
She watched him go, watched him run down the driveway like a man who didn’t realize that cars had been invented. As he turned the corner at the end of the driveway and ran out of sight, she realized again how tired she still was. So she went straight up to bed and slept for seven hours. At four in the afternoon she came stumbling down the stairs, listening for the sound of her parents. But there was no one home. She fixed herself an afternoon breakfast of eggs and toast and waited for her brain to start up. After a few minutes more she picked up the phone.
She called Nina first, praying silently that there would be no news to report. That everything would be as it had been when she and Austin had left the day before. Pauline and Frankie and Mrs. Dunn holed up at home. Everybody learning the Brady-Bunch-style family dynamic. Jerry Dunn still smoldering, but getting used to it.
“No,” Nina said. Her voice was filled with concern. “Things are not okay.”
“Tell me.”
Nina did well. She managed to explain the situation to Devon with a minimum of exclamations and hand-wringing. She used the term “motherfucker” only once.
Jerry Dunn had apparently blown a cog sometime in the last 24 hours, and the Dunn household had gone from an environment of nascent order to one of chaos. “They tried showing up as a group this morning,” Nina said. “Pauline, too. They started off all right, but then Mr. Dunn made a comment, and Mrs. Dunn shouted across the pool that she wasn’t going to take any of that crap from him anymore. Pauline got involved, and it was hell from there. They left the club fifteen minutes later.”
“Is that it?”
“Not even close,” Nina said. “James came back a few hours later, and he was hurt.”
Devon held the phone closer to her ear, as though trying to identify the mistake in what Nina was saying.
We don’t need this, she thought. This is too much. “What do you mean?”
“You know,” Nina said, her voice quiet. “He had a bruise on his face. And a couple on his arm.” Nina gave herself an extra minute to be calm. To take a breath, and to give only facts. “James said Pauline and his parents were all shouting at each other, and he couldn’t handle it anymore, so he went running out of the house, and he tripped and fell on the road.”
Devon, too, gave herself a minute. And then: “You believe him?”
Nina considered. “No. He might have fallen, but I don’t think so. It could have been his dad or Pauline. Either way, he’s shaken up.”
“No surprise.”
“Barnes is pissed. He wants to go in there and start breaking people’s legs. And he wants to call social services on them. I’ve been talking him down all afternoon.”
Devon dropped her head and said nothing for a minute. She felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for having left them all on their own. Not that she was their mother. Not that she could have done anything to prevent any of what Nina was describing. Yet somehow she always wound up feeling responsible. “Where is everybody now?”
“Barnes went back with James. I made Barnes promise not to do shit, told him we needed to wait for you. So he’s just on patrol at their house. Making sure nothing else goes down. I think he’ll hold steady for now. Florin is right here with me.”
Devon took a breath. Tried again to steady herself. “All right. Bring everybody over here.”
“To your house?”
“Right. Slumber party. Like old times.”
There was a pause on the line. “The Dunns aren’t going to let James camp out at your place forever.”
“Never mind. We need a minute to think.”
“Okay, I’ll call Barnes. We’ll be there in a while.” She sounded as though she was about to go, and then Devon heard her bring the phone up again. “One more thing.”
What more can there be?
“Mr. Mahlmann came out.”
Devon closed her eyes, trying to process the abrupt topic shift. “As in, declared that he’s officially gay?”
“Right.”
“What does that have to do with any of this?”
“Nothing. I’m updating you on everything newsworthy. And since nobody wants to think about how much Pauline sucks, Mr. Mahlmann’s the talk of the town.”
“Um. Everybody already knows he’s gay.”
“Right, but it’s still a thing. His wife, you know? And his two daughters.”
“Okay, right. Anything else?”
“How was your date?”
Devon smiled. Her time at the Racquet Club seemed to have happened long ago. Weeks ago. “Beautiful,” she said. “He’s still in New York.”
“Okay,” Nina said, and Devon was surprised to hear a note of something extra in her voice. Something that sounded like relief. Maybe even jealousy.
“Come over soon,” Devon said, trying to change the subject.
“We’ll be there.”
2
When they were all together at Devon’s, Barnes gave them an update on the Dunn household. “They’re settled down for now,” he said. He glanced once at James, who didn’t seem to be in the mood for talking. “Mr. Dunn’s cooled off,” Barnes went on, “probably just because he’s worn out. They all are. Everybody’s in separate rooms. Frankie and Ned are with Momma Dunn.”
Devon nodded. “Good enough. Let’s get to business.”
The Hall house took on the air of a headquarters. A war room. Devon pulled Florin aside and suggested that she usher James out of the house for some fresh air, which she did happily. She and James walked out to the back yard, where the two of them pretended that they were simply there to visit, and to have a good time. That their friends weren’t inside trying to find a way to stabilize an explosive situation.
Take two parts neglect, two parts abuse, and one part adultery. Shake vigorously and stand back.
Devon was glad that no one seemed to be blaming her. For not being there. Or for putting the whole scenario in motion with her confrontation with Pauline. “Sorry about all this,” she said, holding up he
r wrapped-up hand. As if the broken finger itself were somehow to blame.
Barnes shook his head. His eyes were on fire. “It’s got nothing to do with you,” he said quietly. “Or even with Jerry Dunn, even though he’s an idiot and a cheater. Everything starts with that woman.” He blew a breath of air through his nose like an angry dog. A dog who has been teased too many times, and is preparing to bite the hand of the next person who comes anywhere close. “James is so fucked up right now,” he said. “He’s barely talking to me.”
Devon looked out the window of the back porch room they were sitting in. They could all see Florin and James out there, strolling around the property in the same way Devon’s parents liked to do. They were holding hands, and Devon was struck by how much they looked like a couple comforting each other.
“So what do we do?” Nina said suddenly. She looked at Devon. So did Barnes.
“I don’t know. Social services is a possibility, but I’d like to hold off on that if we can. Once you go down that road, it’s hard to pull back. James still claims he fell?”
Barnes nodded darkly. “But that’s bullshit.”
“Maybe, but we don’t know what kind of bullshit. If it was Pauline, then we’re basically in the same place we’ve been since the beginning. But if it was Mr. Dunn, then we’ve got a whole new problem.”
“That bitch needs to go either way,” Barnes said.
“Mrs. Dunn’s trying to make it work,” Nina pointed out. “Teaching her the right stuff to do.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Barnes said, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter at all.” He was growing frustrated. “She’s sleeping with their dad. It doesn’t matter how many diapers she changes, that’s a permanently messed-up situation.”
Southampton Spectacular Page 21
