Fatty Patty (A James Bay Novel) (27 page)

Is that what he thinks? That he’ll regret it? That I’ll regret it? I feel like he’s flung me out of a lifeboat and into a raging river. Sam’s the one with the map and I’ve got no clue where I’m headed. I don’t want to navigate alone.

“Come on.” He holds out his hand. “We’re going bowling.”

There’s no use arguing. The flushed red look on his face tells me that. Reluctantly I let him pull me to my feet and trail him into the hallway. My mind is swirling, but by the time we reach the closet and he hands me my coat, I’ve regained some semblance of sanity.

Thank God he had the sense to stop us before we got carried away and ended up doing something crazy. Something I’d surely regret. Something we’d both regret. What was I thinking, allowing myself to get caught up in a whirlwind of emotions? I never should have let things to go so far. I knew better. Sam is right. We would have regretted it for the rest of our lives.

Wouldn’t we?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I sink into the swivel chair, twirl to face Sam. “That was the last ball, right? How did I do? Did I win?”

“Yes and no.” He points to the computerized scoring monitor hanging above the lane. “The game’s over, but you didn’t win.”

“Next time I’ll leave you in the dust.”

He grins. “Is that a threat?”

“Take it for what it’s worth.” I hadn’t expected the evening to turn out so well, especially after our little tryst on the couch. But bowling proved the perfect antidote. It requires concentration, plus it burns calories. And the way Sam is devouring that pizza, he needs all the exercise he can get.

“Let’s order champagne,” he suggests. “We should toast the New Year right.”

“Diet pop is fine with me.” Who needs alcohol to celebrate? Fitting into my size 14 jeans is celebration enough. Next year, I’m shooting for a size 10… which will never happen if I stuff myself like Sam. I try not to watch as he snatches the last slice of pizza from the serving tray. Doesn’t he realize what he’s doing to himself?

“Something wrong?” He halts, pizza halfway to his mouth, gives me an odd look. “Sorry, did you want the last piece?”

“No, go ahead.” I turn away. The pizza he ordered came dripping with double cheese, greasy pepperoni, ham and sausage, and I only allowed myself one slice. One slice of pure heaven and at least eight hundred calories. I don’t dare indulge. I’ve got a date tomorrow night with the bathroom scale.

“I’ll reset the pins and we’ll play another game.” He crams another bite into his mouth.

“I’ll be right back.” I can’t sit here and watch what he’s doing to himself. I make a quick escape for the ladies room where I linger as long as I dare. How can Sam do that to himself? He’s eating his way into an early grave. Women come and go as I stand at the mirror, touch up my lipstick, try to calm down my wild red curls. Finally I give up. There’s no use trying. I’m a hopeless case. I head back into the bowling alley. The pizza tray is gone but Sam is not alone. He’s chatting with a large man sporting a buzz cut and there’s a gaggle of little girls surrounding him.

“Here she is.” Sam waves me over. “Patty, this is Rod Kay, a good friend of mine. We play poker together every Wednesday night.”

Rod pumps my hand, scrutinizes me with a curious smile. “So, finally we meet. Funny, I feel like I already know you. Sam talks about you all the time.”

“He does?” I cock an eyebrow at Sam. “What exactly does he say?”

“Sorry, you won’t get that out of me,” Rod says with a grin. “But I’ll say this much. Now that we’ve met, every word is true.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Sam comes heavily to his feet and ruffles the hair of one little girl hugging close at Rod’s side. “This is Rod’s little girl, Meghan.”

She beams at me with a crooked smile that’s missing some teeth. “We’re having a slumber party at our house tonight.”

“I promised Kelly I’d take the girls bowling and get them out of her hair.” Rod wraps his arms around his daughter. “They’ve been at the house since early afternoon. I thought Kelly could use a little peace and quiet.” He winces with a guilty smile. “Although she might not be talking to me when we get home.”

Meghan nods solemnly. “Mama was mad when we left. We made too much noise and woke up the babies.”

“Kelly and Rod have six-month-old triplets,” Sam informs me. “Three little brothers for Meghan.”

Maybe it’s the weight of the bowling ball in my arms that causes the sudden ache inside. Or maybe it’s the picture of the happy child dancing in front of me. Of a father who thinks nothing of sacrificing the last few hours of the old year to give his wife a few hours of peace.

Maybe it’s the idea of a family in love with each other.

Will I ever have what other people do? People like Rod and his Kelly? Not that I’m ready to settle down. I’m not looking for a husband or a house filled with children. But something’s wrong in my life. Something’s missing. Maybe it’s the idea of something that I can call my own. Or someone who loves me, as much as I love him.

I shoot a quick glance at Sam. Is that pizza sauce staining his moustache?

Rod nods at my neon-pink ball. “You bowling with that?”

“Yes. Why?”

He chuckles. “You win the last game?”

“Sam beat me,” I confess.

Rod grins. “You might want to try a heavier ball. The one you’re using looks a little light. Twelve pounds should be about right for you.”

“Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?” Sam protests.

“None of your business.” Rod searches through the rack, comes up with another ball. “Try this one.”

I grip the ball, heavier than the pink one Sam chose for me.

“Don’t hold it so tight. Treat it like it’s an extension of your own arm. Like this.” Rod demonstrates a full swing, imaginary ball in the air. “See those marks?” He gestures toward the painted black arrows pointing toward the pins. “Don’t square off on the bowling pins. Aim for the center of the arrows instead. When you’ve got them in sight, bring the ball straight back and follow through when you release.” He steps back from the floor, gestures me forward. “Go ahead, give it a shot.”

Turning, I concentrate on the painted arrows lining the floor. I take a deep breath, three straight steps, bring my arm back and release with a prayer. Crack! The eight pins at the far end of the lane tumble to the floor.

“You got a spare,” Meghan squeals with excitement. Five little girls bounce up and down, clapping as I do a little twirl. “My daddy knows all about bowling. He’s on a team.”

“Thanks for the pointers, Rod.” I sink down in the swivel chair next to Sam and shoot him an evil eye.

“Right, thanks a lot, Rod,” Sam mutters with a good-natured grin. “You probably should get going. I’ll bet Kelly is wondering where you are.”

“He seems very nice,” I say as Rod and his troop of five-year-olds disappear into the crowd.

“Rod’s a good friend. And a client.” He reaches for his bowling ball. “I told you about him once, remember? He started his own business a few years ago. He’s got an automotive repair shop, but he used to sell cars. I guess he got tired of working for someone…

“Hey, that’s it!” Sam, halfway to the center arrows, whirls to face me. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

I frown. “Tell me what?”

“About your friend.”

“What friend?” I straighten in my chair. Something in his voice sounds funny and I’ve got a sudden feeling I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear.

“That guy you teach with.”

My eyes narrow. “Nick?”

“Exactly.” He does a semiturn and shoots the ball, which goes spinning down the lane dead center. Ten pins crack as they hit the alley floor.

“What about him?”

“I told you once I thought he looked familiar? Well, that’s because I’ve seen him before, and I finally remember where.” Sam drops in the chair beside me, forehead glistening with sweat. He grabs a hand towel from his bag and pats his face dry.

I swallow down my impatience as he buries his face in his towel. “Go on,” I demand.

He pulls the towel away from his face, eyes me carefully. “Sure you want to hear this?”

A sudden chill prickles the back of my neck. Maybe I don’t want to hear what Sam has to say. Maybe it would be better if I didn’t hear it.

“He’s not from around here. I saw him in Arizona.”

I toss off an uneasy laugh. “Nick grew up in Arizona. I already knew that.”

“No, this was a couple years ago.” He waves away my protest. “I was visiting Eileen and she wanted to get a quick oil change for her car. We stopped at one of those big dealerships, the kind of place they do a fast-track. That’s where I saw your buddy Nick. He was out on the lot selling used cars.”

Nick, a used-car salesman?
No way.
“I don’t think so.”

Sam shakes his head. “It was him all right. Once Eileen saw him, she pulled out of the lot and we went somewhere else. She can’t stand the guy. She’d talked about him before, but I never had a face to put with the story until that day. Then when I saw Rod tonight, things started to click and—”

“Why are you lying?” A fiery knot burns in my stomach, and it’s not from the pizza. “This is crazy. Nick’s a teacher, not a car salesman. He would never sell cars, new or used.”

“Really?” Sam drops his towel in his bag, gives me a hard fast look. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“Why would he? He’s already got a job, teaching—”

“How much do you really know about the guy, Patty?”

“Stop grilling me!” My stomach lurches, and suddenly I’m furious. Sam has no right to question me about Nick or make accusations that can’t possibly be true. “I know lots about Nick. Lots more than you do. He lives to play golf. He was headed for the pro circuit but he blew out his knee. That’s why he went into coaching.” I think harder, but there’s not much more there. Maybe I don’t know as much about Nick as I think I do. “And he’s a first-year teacher.”

“Bingo,” Sam says softly. “He’s not.”

I glare at him. “Yes, he is.”

“No, Patty, you’re wrong. He taught in Arizona,” Sam says quietly. “He taught at Gwynnie’s school.”

My heart pounds in my ears and it’s hard to keep a grip on my bowling ball. I feel like throwing it at Sam. “That’s a horrible lie, Sam Curtis.”

He lifts his hands in protest. “Why would I lie?”

“Because you don’t like him. Because you’re jealous.” He’s jealous of the way Nick looks, how he acts, how much people like him. He’s jealous of how much I like him. “You’ve never liked him,” I add. “Not since that first day at school when I introduced you.”

“You’re right. I don’t like him, and I never will. He’s exactly the type of guy I can’t stand. All bluster, swagger, full of himself.” Sam’s voice hardens. “And to tell you the truth, I’m surprised at you, Patty. I never figured you to be stupid enough to be suckered in by somebody like Nick. You’re smarter than that. And frankly, I’m getting a little tired waiting around for you to see through the guy.”

He jumps to his feet without another word, snatches his bowling ball and stomps onto the wooden lane, but I’m on my feet in a flash. I lunge for his ball, which spins out of his hands and crashes to the floor, barely missing both our feet. Sam breathes heavily as he grabs for the ball, but I beat him to it.

“It’s my turn to bowl.” I hug the ball close and glare at him.

“Fine.” He steps down, waves me toward the open lane. “Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

“No.” I stand my ground. “You’ve made an unfair accusation against Nick and I don’t believe you.”

He slides back into his seat and eyes me for a long moment. The longer he stares, the more uncertain I am that I want to hear what Sam has to say. A few things about Nick over the past few months have left me puzzled. He’s not like the other first-year teachers that have started at our school. He’s comfortable in the classroom, at ease in front of the kids, like he’s been doing it for years. I’d chalked up all that energy and enthusiasm to his coaching experience, plus testosterone. We’re not used to having men in the classroom.

“He was a teacher at Gwynnie’s school. She didn’t have him for any subjects and Eileen was glad about that. The guy had a reputation. I remember her telling me that some of the parents had complained. They said he could be rough on the kids, that he didn’t spend as much time with them as he should. Most of it got tossed off as minor gripes. But then an emergency situation came up and he took off, leaving his kids to fend for themselves. That’s when things—”

“Wait a minute.” I halt Sam midsentence. Suddenly it’s difficult to breathe. I lick my lips, swirl my tongue around inside my dry mouth. “What are you talking about? What kind of emergency?”

“An air-conditioning unit caught fire and he left his kids alone in the classroom.”

I gape at Sam.
Nick took off instead of staying with his kids?
No way that would have happened. Teachers are trained to stay calm and to remain in control in emergency situations.

“We’ve all been through fire drills at school,” he continues. “You shut the windows, get in line, march out the door until they sound the all-clear. At least that’s the way they did it when I was in school.”

I nod fiercely. In the years I’ve been teaching, the routine hasn’t varied. You stay calm, you keep order, and everyone stays safe. Children are expert at sensing fear.

“He was in the hallway when the fire alarm went off and he bailed out a door at the first alarm. One of the other teachers had to take his students out.”

I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched. “This is all hearsay. Besides, how would your sister know what happened?”

“Because she was there.” His eyes narrow. “Eileen was one of the room mothers and she was at school helping set up for a party. She ended up out on the playground with the staff and the kids. Nick tried to bluff his way through what happened, but there were too many witnesses.”

“If what you’re saying is true, he would have been fired.”

“He was fired,” Sam replies quietly.

“That’s impossible. Things like that don’t go undocumented,” I argue. “If Nick was fired, he never could have gotten a job at our school.”