Last Call (Cocktail #5) (6 page)

To Caroline
—

Best Wishes,

Ina

Go ahead and be jealous. I’ll wait.

Simon, on the other hand, would not.

“Okay, so you remember Megan.”

“
Remember
her? Did you not hear me say
single
most important—”

“I got it, babe. Are you at all curious about hearing what they’re up to, or are you just going to spend some head-space time dreaming of Ina and her kitchen?”

“And me
in
her kitchen. If you’re going to get into my daydream, you have to set the scene correctly. I’m there with Ina, in her kitchen in the Hamptons, and we’re cooking up something wonderful for you and her husband, Jeffrey. Something with roasted chicken, which she’ll teach me how to carve perfectly. And roasted carrots, which she’ll pronounce with that subtle New York accent of hers, where it sounds like she’s saying
kerrits
.”

“I worry about you sometimes,” Simon said, reaching over to feel my forehead.

“I’m perfectly fine. Don’t worry about me, I’ll continue my fantasy later. So what’s up in Philly?”

“Oh, we’re back to my story now?” he asked, and I leaned in and kissed him in apology.

“Sorry, babe, tell me all about Trevor and that wonderful wife of his,” I said. I was playing with him, but I actually liked both of them. We’d gone back to Simon’s hometown for his tenth high school reunion last year, and he was welcomed back like a conquering hero. He hadn’t been back since he graduated high school, not long after both of his parents were killed in a car accident. No one had seen him since, and while he was initially nervous about how he’d be received, he was very quickly convinced that everyone was just thrilled he was back. In high school he’d been the homecoming king and everything that you’d assume comes with it. High school Simon was big man on campus. He’d had his own posse of what I called the apostles (his old pals Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John), headed by his old bestie, Trevor. We’d spent a lot of the reunion evening with him and his new wife, Megan, who was then pregnant with their first.

“How are they enjoying their new life with baby?”

“Enough that she’s pregnant again,” Simon said, and I dropped my lip gloss.

“What the hell is in the water these days? I’m switching to vodka. Always.”

“I’ll vote yes to that—vodka makes you crazy, and horny. And adventurous. You go on an all-vodka diet, and I’m pretty sure I can convince you to try that thing that you never let me do.”

“All the vodka in the world isn’t getting you in there, so forget it Simon,” I said, poking him with my lip gloss as he pouted. “So, Megan’s pregnant again—wow. Tell them congratulations from me.”

“That’s what started this whole thing. They’ve invited us out for the christening of baby number one, and to help celebrate baby number two. It’s next month; think you can get some time off?”

“For cheesesteaks? I mean for christening? Yes, yes, we should definitely do that.” I tried once more for the lip gloss when the doorbell rang. “Great, someone’s early. Go ahead and grab some colored pencils out of my bag.”

“For what?”

“Scattergories.”

“Right!” he exclaimed, then disappeared through the bedroom.

Alone for the moment, I finally applied my lip gloss and allowed myself a thought or two about Megan and Trevor. Two kids, in as many years. Before getting married, Megan had been on the fast track at the Food Network, working in what was in many ways a dream job. But her dream was a family, and she made that happen. And now she was on the baby fast track. Instead of styling artisanal cheese boards and making cream puffs puffier, she was wiping spittle and stepping on baby rattles.

I had a sudden flash image of Simon stepping on a baby rattle that Clive had stolen for his own toy and then left in his path, and I chuckled. Babies babies everywhere,
and not a vodka to drink. I finished my lip gloss, twisting the cap shut with a click, and took a deep breath. I chased away rattle thoughts and indulged in a cheesesteak fantasy moment, interrupted by Simon calling out, “Idiots are here!”

Hmmm, that could be anyone—we knew a lot of idiots. Time to go kick some idiot ass in Scattergories . . .

A
s usual, game night ended in bloodshed. The girls went down, and went down hard. I know exactly how that sounds. But it’s true. We sucked a big fat Scattergories dick. And Pictionary dick. And Apples to Apples could very well have been renamed Dicks to Dicks. In the end, the boys won big. But once everyone was gone, and my skirt was up around my ears as Simon took his victory lap . . . ahem . . . all was right with the world.

The following broadcast was originally aired on local San Francisco NBC affiliate KNTV
 . . .

“Hey there, it’s Neil coming to you live from Levi’s Stadium, where the 49ers are taking on the Seattle Seahawks, their toughest rivals in the NFC West. We’ll be with you play-by-play as these two powerhouse teams hash it out on the gridiron. But before the teams take to the field, there’s another rivalry playing out, one equally as fiercely competitive as anything inside the stadium. I’m talking, of course, about tailgating. Wieners or bratwurst? Hots or brats? We’re going to let these fans put it all on the line, and in the bun, as we taste test the best in tailgating cuisine.

“Now here we have Marcus O’Reilly, a native
of the Bay Area, and a staunch hot dog supporter. He says there’s nothing like a good hot dog at a football game, isn’t that right, Marcus?”

“Oh, it sure is, Neil. A hot dog will take out a bratwurst any day of the week.”

“Those are fighting words, Marcus. And I’ll be taking a big bite out of that wiener in just a moment. Now over here we’ve got Angus Wheelwright, bratwurst enthusiast and, I understand, an amateur kickboxing champion, is that right?”

“You’re right about that, Neil. And I’m here to say that my bratwurst can kick a hot dog’s butt anywhere, anytime. Bring it, hot dog boy!”

“Whoa, whoa, fellas, let’s keep the trash talking on the field, huh? We’re just here to enjoy some delicious sausages before the big game and . . . Sorry, what’s that? I apologize, gentlemen, I’m getting some breaking news over my headphone about . . . a baby and a . . . delivery . . . van? Some kind of labor . . . dispute? Shouldn’t we be going back to the studio for this story? Wait a minute—
who’s
in labor? Sophia—wait,
my
Sophia? I’m on my way, I’m on my way! John! Gimme the van keys! Gimme the keys so I can—”

Audio is dropped at this point as the shot widens to include two confused sausage enthusiasts, three confused news crew guys, and an entire legion of tailgating fans eager to be on television, all
watching as the KNTV satellite van careens away toward the on-ramp, driven by a panicked sportscaster. The last shot we can see before the feed is lost is the newscaster yelling out of the window at drivers to “Pull over, this is a baby emergency” and to “Get out of the way, for God’s sake” and “I’m having a baby! Waahooooooo!”

“A
re you watching that again?”

“I can’t stop. I literally can’t stop. It’s too fantastic.”

“It is pretty great. How many hits is it up to now?” Simon asked.

“Hmm, looks like . . . Jesus Christ, it’s over thirty thousand views!” I refreshed the page and watched it climb again.

Neil finding out on air that Sophia had gone into labor had turned into YouTube gold in literally hours. It was posted within minutes of its airing here in the Bay Area, and it was all anyone in town was talking about. Sophia had texted Mimi and me, so we were already en route to the hospital when the on-air incident happened.

Unable to reach Neil, Sophia had contacted his producer, who unwisely began speaking into his ear during his broadcast. Unable to multitask at the best of times, Neil usually received very little feedback during his live segments, as he had trouble concentrating when the “little man in the booth” became the “little man in my
ear.” But knowing she was in labor, they took a chance and told him.

And the world can now see what happened. His hijacking the affiliate van during the hot dog-versus-bratwurst debate had become comedy gold. Luckily, he was so beloved by viewers that the station had been flooded with emails and calls wishing Neil and Sophia luck in their special delivery.

In the meantime, I was in the hospital waiting room with Simon, Mimi, and Ryan. And I couldn’t stop watching the clip.

“He’s, like, a legitimate Internet star now,” I gushed, refreshing the page once more. “And we’re at thirty-
five
thousand views. This is crazy!”

“How many of those came from us?” Ryan asked, watching it on his phone.

“At least a hundred,” Mimi answered, watching it on her iPad.

Simon sat down next to me, then stood up and walked over toward the nurses’ station, scanned the hallway where our friends were, and then came to sit back down.

“Relax, babe, we’ll know something when we’re supposed to know something,” I told him.

“I know, I know,” Simon said, then looked toward the nurses’ station again. “How early was she?”

“Only a week, everything’s fine,” I answered, reaching for his hand and holding it on my lap.

“Oh I know, I know,” he said again, squeezing my hand. “I’m gonna go get some coffee, want anything?”

“I’m good, babe, go ahead. Take Ryan.”

He nodded, squeezed my hand once more, then he and Ryan headed for the cafeteria. Mimi came and sat down in front of me and leaned against my legs.

“Play with my hair,” she commanded, pulling out her ponytail and shaking it out. I ran my fingers through it, separating it for braids. She loved to have her hair braided. “Simon seems worried.”

“I think anytime anyone is in the hospital he gets a little jittery. I don’t even think he’s aware of it,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the door where they’d just left. “He’ll be fine as soon as we know how Mama’s doing.”

“It’s so crazy. I mean, this morning, Sophia was just Sophia. By tonight? She’ll be someone’s mother.”

“She might already be.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Mimi said, crossing her legs and sitting up straighter. “I always figured I’d be the first with the kiddos.”

“So did we.” I chuckled, flipping her hair under and over my fingers, weaving it into a plait.

“We’re trying, did I tell you that?”

“Shit no! When did that start?”

“Pretty much right after the honeymoon, I stopped taking the pill. We thought we’d wait at first, but we talked about it and we both want a family right away. So we figured, what the hell. Let’s do it.” She turned back
to look at me over her shoulder. “And believe me, we’re doing it.”

“Atta girl,” I said, tugging on her new pigtails.

“I didn’t want to say anything until after she had the baby, you know. I didn’t want any thunder stealing.”

“I don’t think you can steal thunder when you don’t technically have thunder yet.”

“True,” she replied, then turned around as the boys came back in.

“Any news yet?” Ryan asked, carrying a tray of coffees. “We grabbed extra, just in case you changed your mind.”

“Nothing yet,” Mimi answered, springing from the floor to snatch up a coffee. “Come on, let’s go look at the babies behind the glass.” She led him by the hand as he handed off the tray to Simon.

“How’re you doing?” I asked him as he handed me a coffee and sat in the chair next to mine.

“Me? I’m fine, why?” he replied. I looked pointedly at his leg, which was bouncing up and down nervously. “Eh, a little edgy I guess.”

“I know.” I sighed and leaned my head on his shoulder. We sat in silence for a bit, as silent as a hospital waiting room can ever be.

“I hate hospitals,” he said, and I nodded my head against him. “I just hate them. Even good news, like this is obviously going to be, I hate being in them.”

“I can imagine,” I whispered, and looped my arm through his. He didn’t say anything else. And he didn’t
have to. I sat next to him, and kept my head on his shoulder. A few minutes later, Mimi and Ryan came back in. And a few minutes after that, Neil came walking around the corner from the nurse’s station, wearing scrubs and a pie-eating grin.

“You guys want to come meet my daughter?”

M
ary Jane: 6.2 pounds, 19¼ inches long. Tiny and pink, with ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. And one giant voice. We didn’t stay long, since by then both sets of grandparents were swarming. But we stayed long enough to see both Sophia and the baby. Each of us got to take a turn holding her; each got to take a turn hugging Neil, who was Mr. Waterworks. There were many
dude
s said, many backslaps and half hugs exchanged. And when the four of us finally left the new parents, we were exhausted. Not as exhausted as Sophia, but tired nonetheless.

We said good night, or good morning actually, to Ryan and Mimi, and headed back across the bridge to Sausalito. The sky was just beginning to lighten, just a barely lighter gray than the rest of the sky. Simon was pretty quiet, although he’d been so happy at the hospital. He’d held Mary Jane as long as they would let him. He was so gentle and sweet, nervous, sure, but willing to try it. Did my eyes fill a bit? Oh my goodness, yes. Simon? Holding a baby girl? It was like a bomb of cute went off inside me. Still, he was quiet now. Thoughtful.

I pushed the door open first, bracing myself for a rush toward my ankles. First came Norah, our sweet little calico. Always the first to greet, she trotted over and promptly laid on top of my feet, rolling back and forth in delight that her people were home. Only a few seconds later, in strolled Ella, long and lean and beautiful. She headed straight for Simon, as ever. She was a one-woman cat for sure. She tolerated me, but she adored Simon. Thumping down the stairs one at a time came Dinah, meowing and chirping at the top of her lungs, seeming to say “Hello hello, where have you been? Hello hello, why did you leave? Hello hello, why would anyone ever leave here?”

“Hi, sweet girls, how’ve you been? Did you miss us?” I cooed, scooping up both Norah and Dinah, while Ella languished in Simon’s arms like she was born to be placed there. And on the landing, just around the corner, sat Clive. Calmly licking his paws and staring at us all with bland disinterest.