Southampton Spectacular

by M. C. Soutter

  Tracy Dunn listened to Devon speak, and she almost believed her. Almost took her at her word. But it had only been eight days since her last drink, and she was still vulnerable. Still unsure, and still wracked with guilt over all the things she had not done, or ignored, or simply forgotten during the last five gin-and-tonic-soaked years. Now that she had actually gotten up the nerve to make the request, the idea of Ned and Frankie coming to the hospital filled her with dread. Because maybe Ned would not want to come to her. Maybe Frankie would cry unless someone else held him.

  She already had one son in a hospital bed, and she felt responsible. Judged. Surely everyone was whispering about her. Everyone in the emergency waiting room, everyone back at the club. People she didn’t even know. She assumed they were blaming her for many things, but especially for this. For whatever misery had been so deep, so overwhelming and bleak, that her sixteen-year-old son had decided that rolling a car off Dune Road had seemed like the logical next step.

  And it’s true, she thought. They should blame me.

  So instead of nodding, Mrs. Dunn let her gaze drop to the floor. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  But Devon was not finished. She was beginning to realize that she was holding James’s future in front of her, and Ned and Frankie’s future, too. If Mrs. Dunn gave into her insecurities, if she threw up her hands and returned to the liquor cabinet and the clubs, then those three boys would be lost. If not to Pauline, then to someone else. At the very least, they would be forced – far too soon – to begin caring for their own mother. Treating her like a child, instead of the other way around. So as Mrs. Dunn’s head dropped, Devon felt her own temper rising. There were too many things at stake here, and she needed Mrs. Dunn working at full capacity. “No, you look at me,” Devon said sharply. “Who taught James to speak?”

  A strange question, and Tracy Dunn looked up. “What?”

  “Who taught him to speak?” Devon barked.

  Mrs. Dunn jumped. “I did.”

  “Who taught him to ride a bike?” Devon was speaking even louder now, and people in the waiting room were listening. Putting down their magazines, and watching. Watching a brunette teenager stare down a woman more than twice her age.

  “I did. He was five.”

  “Is it possible – ” Devon remembered herself, and she lowered her voice a notch. “Is it possible, Mrs. Dunn, that there are things Ned still needs to learn?”

  “Of course, he’s only eleven, but that’s – ”

  “And is it possible,” Devon said quickly, “that there are things Frankie doesn’t know yet?”

  “He’s not even one,” Mrs. Dunn said. The absurdity of the conversation was helping her now. She was almost smiling.

  “Not even one,” Devon echoed, and she gave her a nod of approval. “So. One more time: who taught James to speak?”

  More quickly now: “I did.”

  “And you’ll teach Frankie.”

  “I will.” Tracy Dunn was standing up straighter. “And how to read.”

  “And you’ll teach Ned what’s right, what’s wrong? How to be kind? How to cook eggs?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  “Who taught James to speak, Mrs. Dunn?”

  Tracy Dunn took a breath, and she nodded. She put a hand on Devon’s shoulder and looked past her, at Barnes and Nina, who were waiting. “Go get my children, would you?”

  Barnes and Nina turned and headed briskly toward the exit. They both looked glad to be on an assignment.

  “Hold on,” Devon said. “I’ll walk you both out.”

  Florin piped up. “Should I come too?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Florin looked taken aback, and Devon let out a little sigh. “Guys,” she said. “Wait for me in the parking lot. I’ll be right there.”

  Barnes and Nina headed out, marching in step with one another like a pair of army cadets.

  Devon glanced behind her to the corner, where her parents were still sitting as invisibly as they could, their heads bent over their magazines. She assumed they were listening to everything she was saying, but she appreciated the act.

  One last thing, she thought. And then down to business.

  She turned back to Florin. “You need to be here,” she said. “With James, because of how much you mean to each other. And supporting Mrs. Dunn.” She paused. “And Mr. Dunn, too, if it comes to that. He’s a moron, but this is still his son.”

  Florin nodded once, pleased to have been given the assignment she wanted anyway. “I should go now.”

  “Exactly.”

  Florin blew out a breath of air and then turned to Tracy Dunn, who was standing a respectful distance away. “Mrs. Dunn? Can I come back in with you?”

  Tracy Dunn looked at Florin with an expression of infinite gratitude. “Definitely.”

  They headed back through the large double doors, into the area where only family and loved ones were allowed. Devon watched them go. Then she turned and headed for the exit, to catch up with Barnes and Nina.

  To give them their instructions.

  Barnes

  They were waiting for her in the parking lot, standing by Nina’s little black Saab. For once, they were not flirting or bickering with each other. Neither one seemed in the mood for conversation.

  “Here’s the thing,” Devon said to them when she reached the car. “Mr. Dunn is the real problem. As long as he and Pauline have this relationship going, nothing is going to work. He’ll make excuses for her forever.”

  “Mrs. Dunn looks like she’s doing better,” Nina said.

  “She does,” Devon said. “And thank goodness. But she can’t do this whole thing by herself. If she tried to get rid of Pauline outright, Jerry Dunn might just take off.”

  Barnes came out of his angry trance for a moment. “Leave his family? That’s idiotic.”

  Devon nodded. “But not out of the question. Men are idiots, and they leave for younger women all the time. So we need to come at it another way.”

  They looked at her, waiting.

  “We need to make Pauline the problem,” Devon said. “Mr. Dunn needs to get mad at her, instead of at his wife.”

  Barnes shook his head. “Pauline’s already a psychopath,” he said darkly. “If he’s not mad at her now, what else can we do?”

  “We can make her cheat on him,” Devon said. “And if there’s one thing cheaters don’t like, it’s being cheated on.”

  She stared at Barnes.

  “Oh for crying out loud,” Nina said, and she turned away.

  Devon kept looking at Barnes. “Well?” she said at last. “You think you can do it?”

  Barnes looked back at her. His eyes were very still. Devon was sure he was going to respond with some objection. Privately, she knew this plan was a long shot. But then Barnes’s eyes seemed to clear. “No problem,” he said.

  Nina glared at Barnes. “Oh, please,” she said. “Pauline’s not going to throw herself into your arms just because you suddenly decide to smile at her.” Nina turned to Devon. “This won’t work. She’ll know something’s going on. Everything’s completely fucked up right now, and she knows Barnes is part of our group.”

  Devon nodded. “That’s all true, but this is the best I’ve got. Anyway, there’s nothing too low for that woman. Given the right opportunity, I think she’ll go for it. Plus, this guy – ” She pointed at Barnes as though indicating an exhibit in a court case. “ – this guy, when he actually tries, can be one charming son of a bitch.”

  If the situation had been just a bit less horrible, Barnes might have smiled.

  “Great,” Nina said, sounding utterly unconvinced. “We’re banking on the seductive abilities of a seventeen-year-old who hasn’t been able to get me to go to bed after two solid years of trying.”

  Devon held her tongue, resisting the urge to argue. To point out that additional forces might have been working against Barnes in this respect.

  Barnes, meanwhile, just shook his head gently. As if
to say, Please, Nina. We all know I wasn’t really giving it my all.

  “Get her alone in a room,” Devon suggested. “Close quarters or something.”

  Barnes put a hand up slowly, like a chess grandmaster patiently rejecting foolish suggestions from the observation gallery. “Nina can take the kids in the Honda,” he said. “Pauline and I will follow in the Condor. I’ll get something going, don’t worry.”

  “Come on,” Nina said. “You can’t sweet-talk anybody in that piece. She won’t even be able to hear what you’re saying.”

  “Just drive the car,” Barnes said. “I’ll figure out the details on the way.” He turned and climbed into the passenger seat of the Saab, effectively ending the conversation.

  “Getting the kids here is the important thing,” Devon added, in case Nina had forgotten the primary reason for their trip. “My parents can help look after them at the hospital if it comes to that.”

  Nina was still shaking her head, but she turned and climbed in behind the wheel with a shrug. And then they were off.

  Devon watched them go, and she was suddenly very unsure of herself again. The idea of getting Pauline to cheat on Jerry Dunn had seemed so reasonable to her just a few minutes ago, but she had to admit to herself that Nina was right: Barnes’s assignment was nearly impossible. She hoped he wouldn’t do anything to make the situation worse than it already was.

  Although how that might happen, Devon could not imagine.

  Pauline

  The Dunn house was not far from the hospital. It was a large brick house on a shared driveway just a quarter-mile from the Beach Club, with a medium-sized yard that abutted the immense McAllister estate. The Dunns were not rich by Southampton standards, but they certainly had enough money to get by. More than enough. Both Tracy and Jerry Dunn had come from families with cash to burn, and neither one of them had done any serious work in their lives. Jerry Dunn claimed, when asked, that he was a day-trader, but this was true only in the sense that he occasionally went on-line and bought and sold stocks. In trifling amounts.

  Barnes and Nina did not speak during the short ride to the Dunn house. When they reached the yellow-gravel driveway, Nina stopped the Saab short.

  “Easy,” Barnes said, lurching forward.

  “This is serious,” she said. “What’s the plan?”

  Barnes shook his head. The fire had come back into his eyes, and Nina thought he looked the same way he had the night before. When he had jumped all over that guy who had yelled at James. “I told you,” Barnes said. “You get the kids. Leave your car there. Put Frankie in the car seat in the four-door, and put Ned in the back next to him. Make sure you put Ned’s seatbelt on.”

  Nina rolled her eyes. “What am I, a moron? I know all that. I’m talking about you. What’s your plan?”

  Barnes sighed. His big hands were clenching and unclenching in his lap. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “That’s what you said before we left the hospital.”

  “Right. And that’s what I’m saying.”

  “How are you going to get her to come with you?” Nina asked. “She’ll want to come in the Honda with me and the kids. She’ll want to drive the Honda.”

  “Tough. We’ve got the keys, and we’ve got Mrs. Dunn backing us up. We tell her there’s only one way she gets to come along, and that’s with me in the Condor.”

  “She’s not going to like it.”

  “Screw her.”

  “Right, or something close to it,” Nina said. “But that’s your job, not mine.”

  “So now we’re joking about this?”

  “Sorry,” Nina said. “This is tense, you know?”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “I think the Condor’s a stick,” Nina said. “You have that covered?”

  Barnes finally cracked a smile. “What kind of pimp doesn’t know how to drive stick?”

  “You wish you were a pimp.”

  “And you wish you were one of my ladies.”

  Nina gave him a grudging smile, and then she put the car back in gear. She pulled the Saab forward into the driveway. “Here we go.”

  Nina had been right about Pauline: she objected to everything. With vigor. The kids should not be taken from the house in the first place. They should be at home with her. And even if they did go to the hospital, there was no way that she, Pauline, was going to be relegated to a “trailing-car” position. She would put the kids in the car, she would drive them, and then Barnes and Nina could follow in the Saab if they wanted. Or they could kiss her ass. Their choice.

  “Your choice,” she said, and she put her hands on her hips.

  But Barnes and Nina were persistent.

  They behaved like traffic cops, repeating their demands again and again, without arguing or trying to justify their position. They explained what they had been sent to do, and they emphasized that Mrs. Dunn had been very specific.

  “I don’t care,” Pauline kept saying. She was shaking her head constantly as she talked. Sometimes looking up, sometimes looking at the ground. But always shaking her head. “I don’t care, they’re not going.”

  “We’re here to pick up the kids,” Nina said again.

  “Mrs. Dunn sent us,” Barnes repeated.

  “I don’t care,” Pauline said.

  It took nearly twenty minutes of this. Back and forth, like a bad game of checkers. But in the end Pauline seemed to lose her resolve all at once. Perhaps she was fearful of becoming marginalized or even fired outright by the newly assertive Tracy Dunn. In any case, Nina was allowed to help Ned into the back of the maroon Honda Accord; he sat there in silence, wondering at this latest development in his too-eventful life. He understood that his older brother had been in an accident, which was bad. On the other hand, he also understood that James was alive, and that they were now being taken to see him. And without Pauline in the car. Which bordered on fantastic.

  Barnes put Frankie carefully into the baby seat in the back of the Honda next to Ned, and then Barnes struggled for a good five minutes to fasten the array of buckles and straps around Frankie’s pudgy, flailing limbs. Frankie watched (and participated in) this process with evident delight, kicking his legs and waving his arms constantly.

  Pauline, meanwhile, walked back to the house in a huff. She emerged a few minutes later carrying a little daypack. Without a word or even a glance at Nina or Barnes, she walked over and climbed into the passenger side of the tiny, beat-up, fifteen-year-old Volkswagen Golf that the Dunn family used for quick trips to the beach, or to the late-night delicatessen, or to the liquor store. The Golf could not strictly be called a family car, because it had only two doors, a back seat filled with litter, and a passenger-side seat with a broken seatbelt. Jerry Dunn was the only one who ever drove it. His wife had wanted to send it to the junk pile long ago, but Mr. Dunn would not budge. In a fit of pique, he had even gone so far as to have the engine overhauled, so that now the little car had far more horsepower than it needed. Despite the overhaul, the car had begun making a chattering, rattling noise last year; this noise grew louder every month, and Tracy Dunn had begun calling the car the Gopher, a derisive name that caught on fast with anyone who saw or heard it rattling by. Jerry Dunn, contrary as ever, had searched for a new nickname, one as dissimilar from gopher as he could think of. After several days of consideration, he had decided that he – and everyone – would begin calling his little car the Condor.

  Before the Flight of the Condor

  After sending Barnes and Nina on their way, Devon walked back to the E.R. waiting room. She had given everyone their pep-talks and their assignments, and for a minute she was overcome with a feeling of unbearable weariness. So she sat in the first plastic chair that she found empty and then simply let herself crumple down into a lump. Like an army colonel who finds himself momentarily free of wartime duties, and who allows himself the luxury of briefly bowing his head. Of taking a deep, less-than-steady breath. Of closing his e
yes, and humming a song that his mother used to sing to him.

  In another minute she felt all right. Or close enough to all right. Which was important, because there was more to do.

  Assuming Barnes would be successful in his seduction of Pauline – which was a huge, lump-in-the-throat assumption – there was still the matter of Jerry Dunn’s reaction to consider. Devon wanted him mad at Pauline, and of that she felt she could be sure. But she didn’t want him flying into an actual rage. If Jerry Dunn felt as if he had no one on his side – not his wife, not his children, not even his own mistress, Pauline – then uncontrolled rage might be close behind.

  He needed an ally.

  Devon rose from her chair and walked over to her parents. They both still had magazines open on their laps, but now they were looking at her. Waiting for her to come to them if she needed anything.

  “Everything under control?” her father asked.

  “You’ve been doing very well,” her mother said. Cynthia Hall’s face was full of pride. “With Mrs. Dunn, especially. Are you going to go in and visit James?”

  “In a minute,” Devon said, acknowledging the compliment with a nod. She turned to her father. “Dad. Question.”

  “Go.”

  Devon hesitated for a split second. In the last moment before speaking, she lost sight of how to ask this favor from her father without going too deep. There were other questions she wanted to ask, but those were for later. Now was the time for helping the Dunn family. For creating stability. So Devon plowed ahead, but awkwardly. “Is there any way – ” She stopped. Shook her head and tried again. “Can you go in there and be Jerry Dunn’s friend?”