Sparkle

by Rudy Yuly

  More than a month later, Joe was finally starting to fully comprehend Eddie’s intentions. Joe had a few ideas about why Eddie wanted to start taking cabs so badly, but he wasn’t going for it. Maybe someday, but not now.

  Eddie just wasn’t ready.

  Chapter 12

  When Jolie walked into the zoo office, it was still dark outside. Her day didn’t officially start for more than an hour, but she was looking forward to doing a leisurely, peaceful walk-around alone before starting.

  Mark was already there. “Happy Saturday,” he smiled broadly, flashing white teeth. “You’re up early.”

  “Yep.”

  “Exciting Friday night?”

  Jolie laughed as she finished stashing her stuff in her small locker. “Stayed home and watched a movie. Actually, I didn’t even finish it.”

  “Coffee?” Mark offered.

  “Sure.”

  “I ground the beans myself. Torrefazione Italia. White and sweet, right?”

  “Uh, yeah, actually.”

  “This is your mug, right?”

  Jolie nodded. Mark poured the coffee, added a healthy splash of organic half-and-half from the small fridge under the counter, and stirred in a packet of raw sugar.

  “I’m getting the hang of this whole Seattle coffee thing.” He presented it to her proudly.

  “White and sweet. I’m forcing myself to not say ‘just like you.’”

  Jolie grimaced. “Ooooh.” She took a sip. “Good coffee. Bad joke.”

  “Actually, your night sounds about as exciting as mine,” he went on, oblivious. “I was kind of bored.” Mark took a sip of his own coffee. “In fact, I almost called you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She hadn’t given him her number. Not that he couldn’t just look in the staff directory.

  “Yeah. Remember Jim, the old on-call vet? His sister sings with some jazz group, and he called me up last night to say she was playing at a club in Fremont. Do you like jazz? I haven’t really listened to it much, but I thought it might be worth a try. I almost called you to see if you wanted to go.”

  “Oh, wow. Yeah, I remember Jim.” Jolie grabbed her clipboard. “Well, I guess I should get going. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Hold up,” Mark said. “I’ll come with you.”

  They walked out into the rising sun.

  Mark was quiet for a moment. “So…do you think you might’ve gone?”

  “Well, I liked Jim,” Jolie said.

  “Yeah, he’s a nice guy.”

  “But…I’m not really into jazz,” Jolie said. “I guess I probably wouldn’t have, to tell you the truth.” She noticed Mark’s discomfort. “It’s not you, though. Just jazz.”

  They walked in uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

  “Is it me, though? Mark said. “Because I’m kind of getting a not-too-hopeful vibe here. If it’s me, just tell me so I can retire from the field with dignity.”

  Oh boy. Jolie blew out a breath. “The thing is, Mark, I do think you’re a great guy, and a good boss, but that’s the problem. The whole work thing.”

  “It’s not really a problem if you don’t want it to be. There’s no actual policy against it.”

  “You checked?” Jolie laughed.

  “Yeah, “I did. Wanna know the page number?”

  Jolie smiled. Maybe she was being too hard on him. “It’s not about the policy, Mark. You seem like a very nice guy. I’ve just never really had good experiences dating coworkers. And especially bosses.”

  “Dated a lot of your bosses, have you?”

  “None, actually.”

  “Well, at the risk of sounding hopelessly pathetic—will you at least think about it?”

  “You know, I’m absolutely at a loss for what to say.”

  “Your birthday’s in a couple of days, right?”

  “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  “I’m your supervisor. It’s my job to know.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jolie said.

  “Listen, I’d love to buy you a beer or something on your birthday. It doesn’t even have to be a date. I bet everyone would want to celebrate after work. Will you just think about it?”

  Jolie hesitated. She suddenly felt she was acting like a prude. Mark “wasn’t her type?” Actually, she hadn’t dated enough guys recently to even know what her grownup type was. The bad boy musicians she’d favored in college had been uniformly disastrous.

  “I guess I am thinking about it,” she finally said. “Would you mind if I invited everyone but you?”

  Mark’s face fell. She saw him stiffen.

  “I’m just kidding. Sheesh. I’m not going on a date with you, okay, Mark? Not now. But sure, let’s all go have a beer.”

  “Say no more. Besides, you’ve already got a big date today.”

  Now Jolie stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “You know, your boyfriend. The guy you take around. Your big date.”

  Jolie was genuinely looking forward to seeing Eddie today. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Of course,” Mark said. But the joke sounded a little flat.

  “Seriously, Mark, do you have some kind of problem with it?”

  “Only professionally. It’s a little…okay. Can I be really honest with you?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Jolie said drily.

  “I’ve…had a very bad experience with a similar situation. And there’s something about Eddie that makes me uncomfortable. Reminds me of something…something not good.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well…I’d rather not talk about it right now,” Mark went on. “But I am speaking from personal experience. Look, Jolie, if it’s the money, I’m sure we could find somebody else to take him around. I mean, if you’re worried about the extra salary, I’m sure we could figure something else out for you, and for that poor guy.”

  “He doesn’t want somebody else, Mark,” she said. “He has a set routine, and it’s important that he stick to it. I’m part of it. And to tell you the truth, I like it. It’s one of my favorite parts of the week. He’s a very cool person.”

  “Cool? He never even says anything.”

  “Maybe that’s one of the things I like about him,” Jolie said with a grin.

  “It’s part of my job to look out for your personal safety.”

  Something about that comment made Jolie laugh out loud.

  Mark stopped walking. “You think that’s funny?” He looked slightly pained. “I’m really scoring points here, aren’t I?”

  “Sorry. It’s not you. I appreciate your concern. I’m sorry for whatever you’ve been through. But come on, Mark. I’m a big girl. Eddie’s one of the safest people I know. And besides, what could he possibly do to me in the zoo?”

  Mark looked around. They were alone.

  “You got me there,” he said.

  Chapter 13

  Joe stubbed another smoke in the van’s overflowing ashtray, trying hard to hide his irritation.

  “Cab, Joe,” Eddie said.

  Technically, it was only the twenty-fifth time he had said it during the ride to the zoo. But it felt more like the millionth to Joe. After more than thirty years together, Eddie’s repetitiveness was a potent weapon in any dispute. He was holding an unopened green glass bottle of Sparkle Soda between his knees. His canvas Mariners bag was on the floor at his feet.

  “How come you’re not drinking your Sparkle?” Joe asked, trying to change the subject.

  “For Jolie. A…gift.”

  “That’s nice.” Joe was slightly taken aback by Eddie’s use of an unfamiliar phrase, but it was a good sign. Maybe he could get Eddie refocused on Jolie.

  “Cab, Joe,” Eddie repeated.

  “Listen, Eddie,” Joe began. He held his breath for a moment before speaking, then forced the words to come out calmly and distinctly. “The zoo’s too far. Cabs cost money. They charge by the mile. It’s too expensive, and it’s too far.”

  “Cab, Joe.”

  Joe tried another tack. “C
an I think about it?”

  It worked, sort of. Eddie fell silent, and Joe was able to spend the rest of the twenty-minute drive in peace, smoking, counting cars, and holding his breath at stoplights.

  They drove into the Woodfield Park Zoo lot. Joe parked crookedly, got out, and opened Eddie’s door. Eddie slid out.

  “Cab, Joe.”

  Joe held his tongue.

  The weather had cleared up almost completely since the day before. Just a few fat puffy clouds drifted high in the Tiffany-blue sky. The brothers walked together to the benches outside the entrance where Joe always left Eddie to wait for Jolie. Joe had won the argument for now by forfeit. He knew Eddie was irritated with him, although his brother looked as placid as ever. Joe was fine with that. There were times, brotherly love and devotion notwithstanding, when there was nothing so satisfying as pissing Eddie off.

  “Go away, Joe,” Eddie said.

  That proved it. Score one for Joe. If there was a slight uplift in Eddie’s tone when he told Joe to go, everything was cool. But if he said it totally flat, like today, he was not happy. Also, he usually didn’t say it until after he’d pulled the Shiny Gold out of his canvas Mariners bag.

  “Okay, Eddie.” Joe dragged on his cigarette to keep from smiling. No need to rub it in. “See you later.”

  Eddie pulled out his Shiny Gold and a towel, and carefully wiped the bench. “Bye-bye, stains,” he said flatly, looking at Joe’s knees.

  Whoa. That was serious. Eddie wasn’t fooling around. He was giving Joe a clear warning to leave him alone. Perversely, Joe felt like hanging around and asking Eddie some random questions. But he could see that Eddie was getting provoked. It was fun up to a point, but there was no way in hell Joe wanted to risk making Eddie really upset. This was Joe’s only free day, too.

  “All right, already,” Joe said. “Have a great day, bro.” He walked away.

  Eddie put the Shiny Gold back into his bag, and then reached into his pocket for his sunglasses and put them on. He sat down and looked straight ahead.

  “Cab, Joe.”

  As Joe climbed into the van, he saw Jolie walk up to Eddie. Right on time, as always. Eddie stood up and took off his glasses. Jolie said a couple of words to him and he sat back down. She headed in Joe’s direction.

  Jolie knew what the brothers did for a living, but she wasn’t aware that Joe never participated in any actual cleaning. If she had, she might not have felt so warmly toward him. Nearly a year of Saturdays had made her feel she had a stake in Eddie’s well-being.

  She walked up to the driver’s side window. “Morning, Joe.”

  “Hey, Jolie.” Joe did his best to sound noncommittal.

  “These are for you.” She handed him an envelope. “Just a few forms. You think you can bring them back next week?”

  Joe found himself tongue-tied, as he often was in Jolie’s presence. Her hair was shoulder-length, thick and black, her eyes a piercing pale blue. Her nose was small, and she had full lips and pale creamy skin. She didn’t seem to wear any make-up. And despite the frumpiness of her zoo uniform, her slenderness and soft curves were impossible to hide.

  Beyond her looks, Jolie seemed happy to be alive, happy in her work, and ready to see the humor in any situation. Joe couldn’t relate to any of that. It made him want to get away as soon as possible.

  “Sure,” he said. “Oh, yeah, I should t-t-tell you. Eddie brought you a present.”

  Jolie was surprised. “A present? Did I tell you my birthday’s on Monday?”

  “No. It’s just a bottle of Sparkle. But if you could, act a little excited.”

  “I understand.” Jolie was relieved it wasn’t anything more. “How you guys doing? How’s work?”

  “I don’t know.” Joe sounded impatient, although he thought he was being kind by keeping the truth to himself. “Jolie, I wanted to tell you I appreciate what you’re doing. I know Eddie can be …” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence and trailed off.

  “It’s not a problem, Joe. I like Eddie. We get along fine.”

  “You probably better not keep him waiting.” Joe turned his head to blow smoke into the cab instead of at Jolie.

  Jolie stopped rolling her eyes just in time to keep him from seeing. “Okay, Joe,” she said. “See you this afternoon.” She turned and walked away.

  Once she was out of earshot, Joe turned the key in the ignition. “Poor Eddie.”

  Chapter 14

  “Beautiful,” Joe muttered, as he drove through the lot and squealed into traffic. What an idiot.

  He knew that Jolie treated Eddie exactly right. He also knew that Eddie cared about her more than was good for him. Who wouldn’t? It was too bad. Eddie was going to get his feelings hurt someday, and then there’d be hell to pay—and Joe was responsible because he knew it was coming and he wasn’t doing anything to stop it. He was being selfish. Eddie’s zoo day gave Joe his only precious taste of what being normal would be like. But the day of reckoning would come. Nobody understood more than Joe how attached Eddie could get to something. Someday Jolie would go away and when she did it was going to be bad and it was going to be deep and it was going to take a long time to get over.

  Even though he couldn’t help but predict a bad outcome down the road, Joe resolved to be prepared. He’d done the calculus in his head, and decided today’s freedom was a good enough bargain for tomorrow’s pain. When it came, Joe would put his head down and deal with the consequences. For now, the deal with the state meant that things were going to hold steady for a good long time, and that was at least a temporary load off his mind.

  As always after dropping Eddie off, Joe headed straight to the Ravenna Sports Bar. The Mariners were starting a series at Tampa Bay. It was an early game. He’d take some notes, fiddle with his stats, drink a few beers, and eat a Reuben. Just like a real person.

  He messed with the radio until the game blared out of the van’s single tinny speaker. He still had time to make a last-minute twenty-buck bet.

  Even though Joe bet regularly, the anticipation of it always gave him a bit of a chill. His dad used to bet, one of several ways the old man had gotten himself into serious trouble. The thing that genuinely spooked Joe was the idea that he might end up like him. In fact, the only decent advice his dad had ever given him was, “Whatever you do, don’t end up like me.”

  Joe had taken it to heart. The paradoxical hope that he could simultaneously honor his father’s wishes and escape his influence was one of the most powerful undercurrents in his life. Still, they had a few things in common. Like his dad, Joe’s short list of passions was dominated by baseball. But their approaches to the game were wildly different. Joe was obsessed with player statistics, something his dad never gave a damn about. Joe collected numbers all season long; RBIs, ERAs, and slugging percentages filled his head and his spiral-bound notebooks. But it seemed futile to have such knowledge and mastery of baseball if he didn’t do something with it.

  Betting and winning showed the world that his obsession had a tangible value. Joe had to bet; it kept baseball from being a waste of time. As long as he won more than he lost, which he consistently did, then the time he spent on baseball was justifiable. Not that he had to justify it to anyone but himself—but any kind of enjoyment for its own sake put Joe on edge. He felt as if he was being watched and judged by unseen eyes, as if he was doing something bad and might get caught, with nebulous but horrible consequences. Even though he couldn’t see any way around betting, Joe felt he could avoid being like his dad if he locked the habit inside an escape-proof cage of self-imposed regulations.

  Ironclad Rule #1: No more than twenty bucks a bet, or a hundred a week. Every time he even had the urge to bet more than twenty dollars, he’d think of his dad and start to have a panic attack.

  Rule #2: Bet only on baseball.

  Rule #3: Place a bet only after “The Star Spangled Banner” has been sung. This rule was based on the fact that he wanted to see the players as they were right before the
game, if only for a brief moment. He didn’t need to see them run or throw or field. It was enough to see them standing in line with their hands on their hearts. Joe had an uncanny knack for picking up valuable information during that slow-pan closeup of the players lined up on the baseline. Who was fired up. Who wanted to be somewhere else. Who was in pain. Stuff like that changed the outcomes of games every day.

  Joe rarely used a bookie to place his bets. It seemed too serious, even for him. And it reminded him of his dad. Joe walked a fine line. His betting couldn’t be strictly for fun, but it couldn’t be in any way “professional” either. The rules he lived by were more complicated and arcane than the rules of baseball itself, and they were absolutely clear in his mind. Joe didn’t care for interacting with strangers. Betting was the notable exception. He’d often pick out a likely looking person at the bar and challenge him. The uncharacteristic boldness of talking to a stranger gave him an illusory normal, almost social feeling. Not everyone would take a bet after a game had started, but Joe got his payoff whether his adversary had taken him up on the bet or not. It wasn’t so much the money as the chance to mutter, “I told you so” under his breath to the world. One sucker at a time.

  On the van radio, the play-by-play guy announced that Henderson had tried to steal second and had gotten pegged out coming back to first. Joe stopped counting cars. He pulled out his mini-cassette recorder and clicked it on. He was beginning to suspect that something was going on with Ricky.

  Joe always carried the mini-cassette clipped inside his breast pocket. When something occurred to him, he’d make himself a verbal note to look up the stat. But he didn’t use the notes or the stats to place his bets. What Joe really knew about baseball, he knew strictly by looking.