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It’s relatively quiet in here already, so much so that I can hear Carly growl under her breath at the bad woman.
I chuckle.
“Everyone take a bingo card from Ginger when she brings them around if you want one. Remember, one card per person, no switching allowed.”
Carly squares her shoulders and brings her card in front of herself, sweeping away her empty plate of food with her arm.
“It’s go time.”
Stella and Sal, now apparently aware of the fact that there are humans at the table besides themselves, notice Carly’s intensity for the first time, and Stella doesn’t hesitate to comment. “Oh yay, baby girl, I’m glad to see you getting involved. Just don’t get too worked up. You always took these games so seriously as a little girl.”
I cough under my breath and mutter, “It’s a little too late for that.”
Carly elbows me in the ribs, and I groan.
“You want a card, Stell?” my dad asks casually as Ginger arrives at our table to hand them out.
Stella shakes her head. “I think I’ll just watch Carly. I bet I can use the footage if I record to make a TikTok later.”
Carly rolls her eyes and drops her head back, and I can’t help but smile. It’s almost like watching her mom make her life so hard makes me feel better about the way Sal and I seem to go at each other on a daily basis.
“What can I do?” I finally offer, reaching out and rubbing Carly’s shoulder with a gentle hand. “I promised my services tonight, so I have to know how best to assist.”
She smiles then, a tiny hint of light in her eyes. “Just listen. And keep the mischief twins quiet. I don’t want to miss a number.”
I smile and nod. It’s weird, but I think this might turn out to be one of the most relaxing nights of the trip.
By the way, there’s a reason they say what they do about last words—or thoughts, in this case—being famous.
“This bingo is rigged!” Carly yells, her body straining against my hold as Betty Matthews challenges her from the stage, microphone in hand.
“Calm down, young lady, before I call the police! You’re disgracing the name of our community, and I won’t have it.”
“I’m disgracing the community?” Carly yells heatedly. “You’re the one saying you have bingo when they haven’t even called enough numbers to get bingo!”
“I’d never do such a thing! I’m all about rule and order, unlike you and your mother,” Betty says with a disdain that makes my insides quake. Nothing sets off the protective instinct in a woman like an insult to her next of kin.
Carly thrashes like a she-wolf, and I tighten my grip.
“Dad, can you handle getting Stella home on the golf cart?” I ask, breathing hard as I wrap an arm around Carly’s chest to hold her back. Her arms are swinging out in front of her like she’s performing the opening scenes of Rocky, and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a more ridiculous night in my life. Old people Ponzi schemes and rigged games of chance and, now, actual physical violence. I never expected it to turn so quickly.
What in the hell is next if I don’t get Carly out of here?
“Of course I can,” my dad says easily, beating on his chest with a tight fist like some kind of Neanderthal. “It’s my fucking cart, for shit’s sake.”
I nod, rather than getting into another argument, and swing a still-fighting Carly up into my arms. It catches her off guard temporarily, but I fear if I don’t take even stronger measures, I’ll be at her angry mercy again in no time.
Taking advantage of her shock, I keep flipping her, up and around until, finally, her stomach is settled on my shoulder and her head and arms hang helplessly down my back in a traditional fireman’s carry.
She fights a little, her feet kicking in a scissor motion while her fists bump into my back, but for all intents and purposes, she’s the most contained she’s been since the fight with Betty broke out five minutes ago.
“Put me down!” she insists over and over again as we walk out of the main hall and the scene of many bingo crimes and into the entry hallway. It’s much less populated, but I don’t stop until we’re all the way outside in the thick humidity of a Florida evening. I can’t chance any more heated encounters.
Finally, when we reach the relative safety of the parking lot, I bend at the hip and set her down on her feet once again. She shoves me immediately, hard and in the shoulder, and I go back on a foot with a shake of my head.
“I’m sorry, Carly, but what did you expect me to do in there? Let you beat up an old woman?” I shake my head. “Honey, no.”
