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She returns instantly with two glasses and I tell her that I’m not drinking. I’d like to, but I need to keep my senses about me.
“Of course, she is,” Brett says. The waitress listens to him despite what I say, and sets a glass of red in front of me. I’m tempted to down it, to mask the anxiety I’m feeling, but I don’t. I smile softly and tell her my order, only to have Brett change it. To say I’m stunned would be an understatement. I repeat my order and hand the menu back to the waitress, who immediately looks to Brett for confirmation. He shakes his head rather quickly, as if he’s telling her to ignore me.
“Do you always order for people?”
Brett tilts his head to the side and grins. He lets out a little laugh before leaning forward. “Just those that I like.” He reaches for my hand and for a brief moment he’s touching me until I realize what the hell is going on.
Not so subtly, I pull my hand away and rest it on my lap. “I’d like to talk about Chase.”
“I see,” he says. He sighs heavily and straightens in his chair. “I’ll cut to the chase,” he laughs at his own joke, which I don’t find funny. “I like your son. He’s a good boy and has what it takes to be a decent ball player.”
“But?” I interject, knowing it’s coming.
“He needs training.”
“Which is why I’m here, Brett. What can I do to help my son? He wants to play baseball and I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
“Anything?”
“Anything,” I reiterate.
Once again, he leans toward me. I’m watching his eyes, trying to figure out what he’s doing. As soon as I feel his hand on my leg, I push my chair back, bumping hard into the person behind me. I mumble a weak apology to the man who is likely wearing red sauce due to my actions.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He cocks his eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“You’re married.”
“My marriage has nothing to do with this. We both want something from each other. It’s a win-win.”
My mouth drops open in horror. “You expect me to sleep with you in order for my son to make the baseball team?” I seethe.
“If you don’t,” he says quietly. “I’ll make sure Chase never makes a damn team in this town.” He picks up his wine and takes a sip, never taking his eyes off me. I’m disgusted and feel dirty for even sitting here.
Thankfully, my chair is already far enough away from the table that I don’t have to move. I throw my napkin on the table and stand with my bag in my hand. “You’re a pig, Brett Larsen. You better hope I don’t tell Annie about your proposition.”
He chuckles, takes another sip and says, “You can try but I doubt she’d believe you. Remember, you’re the one who said you’d do anything to help your son.” He holds his phone up, shaking it. “Got it right here, in black and white.”
“You son of a bitch.” His words bring tears to my eyes and I hate that he sees me crying.
“Tsk, tsk. I hold the cards, Bellamy. Remember that.”
Without another word, or bothering to stay and fight, I make a hasty exit. I fully expect people to stare but no one does. No one heard or saw him proposition me, and even if I wanted to say something, he has so much clout that no one is going to believe me.
The entire way home, I cry. I sob hard, choking on the words spewing from my mouth as I relive the night, angry at myself for thinking a man like that would be willing to help my son. There was a time when Brett Larsen was nothing more than a washed-up baseball player — the idiot punched a wall and broke his hand in so many places, he had no choice but to give up the game he loved so much and lost his scholarship. He started night school after he and Annie married to become a stockbroker, money manager type. Now he’s all high and mighty because he once had a scholarship to play baseball?
I drive around the block a few times until I can control my emotions. Chase will still be up, likely watching television with my mom, and I don’t want him to see that I’ve been crying. He worries about me and since his father left, has become my protector. When I pull into the driveway, I yank the visor down and clean my make-up streaked face.
This was not how I expected the night to go.
The notebook I brought to the meeting, that I intended to fill with useful hints and tips, falls out when I pull my bag from the passenger seat. I leave it there, not wanting the reminder of how I’ve failed Chase. When I get to my front door, I take a few calming breaths, not that they’re doing much for me. It’s going to take me awhile to get over this. I hate knowing I’ll have to plaster a smile on my face when I see Brett downtown or out and about, and I’m not sure whether I should tell Annie what he did. She should know what type of man she’s married to, someone propositioning moms who are trying to help their sons. The thought makes me shudder.
I push down on the lock release and step into my house. Chase sees me right off and comes running toward me, talking a mile a minute about the day he had in school. He says nothing about recess or who he ate lunch with, but happily talks about the volcano he has to build for science class.
“I did that too,” I tell him.
