Page 5 of The Curve
Brick stands and comes to my side, patting my good shoulder. “No, that’s not it. She just wasn’t interested.”
“Impossible,” my mother says.
“How do you know?” I ask Brick. “Did she say that?”
“Didn’t have to. She wasn’t wearing that stupid look women get around you. And she didn’t ask any questions. Like, does your brother have a girlfriend?” He uses both index fingers and sound effects to pretend he’s shooting me dead. “Pow! Pow!”
“Or,what kind of dessert does your brother like? I’m a great cook!” Bristol says shivering with disgust.
“Or, your son is so nice, Mrs. Swift. You did a great job of raising him,” my mother says, imitating a bimbo’s sickening sweet voice, attempting to kiss her ass.
Watching my father laugh at his wife’s sense of humor is educational, a master course in romance. I think he’s one of the most content people I know. He’s still under the same spell he was when they were young. Forty-two years hasn’t seemed to dull what they have for each other.
I want that. None of the cleat chasers have made me feel anything close.
“Did I tell you you look like a sweet peach in that dress, Lucinda?”
She loves his attention. “Boone, you’re gonna spoil me.”
He takes her in his arms for a spin around the kitchen, dancing to music only they can hear. Then she twirls away and gets back to her dinner preparation.
“Anyway Atticus, you need to whittle down the contestants. Pick some women who challenge you instead of kissing your ass and laughing at your jokes,” Bristol says.
“Maybe,” I say pouring myself a drink. “But I like women who kiss my ass,” I chuckle. “And it’s not just me. What about Brick? The ladies like him just as much.”
“Your brother keeps a much lower profile. He doesn’t advertise like you do,” my father says.
“Advertise?” I pretend shock.
“Don’t deny it, Atticus. You strut your stuff like a peacock,” says Brick. “Not that I’m complaining. You’ve raised the team’s profile and doubled our followers on Instagram because of this.” He grabs my cheeks and squeezes them between his thumb and index finger. “And it all contributes to endorsements. But it didn’t work this time, brother. Sorry.”
“Besides that, she’s not into baseball,” I say.
Bristol lifts her arms in the air and starts to dance around the kitchen. “Hallelujah! Marry the girl!! I’m serious. I want you to marry her,” she says reaching up and messing my hair. Then she laughs and moves back, out of my reach.
“You’re gonna be sorry you did that, Sister. Payback’s a bitch you know.”
“I’m petrified.”
“You will be when I walk into your waiting room and get the kids all wound up.”
Her face falls. “Bastard!”
My mother picks up her glass dinner bell and rings it.
“Let’s finish this discussion over supper. Everyone into the dining room.”
When the bell sounds the Swifts obey.
As we start moving out of the kitchen, I take ahold of Brick’s arm. “Hey, did you tell Charlotte about the picnic?”
“Yeah. But she wasn’t sure they’d be coming.”
“Well, did you tell her about all the games for the kids?”
He looks at my face and gets serious. “You’re actually interested in her? A single mother? Is it just a challenge? Because if it is, stop now. She’s really a good person, Atticus, and from the little I know she’s had a rough life.”
“Give me her number. I want to call her.”
