Bet Me by Jennifer Crusie
“Don’t call her that,” Cal said. “Her name is Min. She’s a good woman, apart from her rage.” He watched her as she leaned sideways in her chair to say something to Bonnie. “She’s not chubby. She’s just got a really round body. Everywhere.”
“Nice rack,” Tony said, trying to be fair. “So you struck out, huh?”
“No,” Cal said, turning his back on them again. “I asked her to dinner and she went. Then I walked her home and said good-bye. I did not strike out.”
“Finally, a woman you can’t get,” Tony said, satisfaction in his voice. “That’s kind of depressing because it’s like an era is passing—”
“I didn’t try,” Cal said.
“—but it’s good to know you put on your pants one leg at a time like the rest of us.”
“I’ve never understood that,” Cal said. “How else would you put on your pants?”
Tony leaned over. “Ten bucks says you can’t get Min to go out with you tomorrow night.”
“I don’t want to go out with her tomorrow night,” Cal said.
“Take her to the movies,” Tony said. “You won’t have to talk to her.”
“Tony . . .”
“Ten bucks, hotshot. I don’t think you can do it.”
Cal looked over his shoulder at Min. All the laughing aside, she didn’t look any more relaxed than she’d been Wednesday night. And she was ignoring him. He shook his head at Tony. “She won’t go. No bet.”
“This is hard to believe,” Tony said. “You chickening out.”
“Tony, she hates men right now. She just broke up with somebody.”
“Well, there you go. She’s on the rebound,” Tony said. “That gives you an edge. You could get her into bed.”
“I don’t want her in bed,” Cal said. “She’ll probably ice pick the next guy she sleeps with to get even with the guy who dumped her. Trust me, this is not a woman you close your eyes around.”
“Wuss,” Tony said. “I’ll make it easy. Lunch. Ten bucks says you can’t get her to lunch.”
Cal looked over at Min again. What would get her to lunch? She was sitting back in her chair now, smiling at Roger, as if she were sizing him up. Protective of her friend. She could relax about Roger. If Bonnie got him, she’d be a lucky woman.
Of course, Min didn’t know that.
“You in?” Tony said.
So if he went over and said—
“Cynthie just came in,” Tony said.
“Hell” Cal sat up but didn’t look toward the door. “She hates this bar. Why—”
“She’s stalking you,” Tony said. “She must really want to get married. And she’s headed this way.”
“Right.” Cal stood up. “Come on.”
“Where?” Tony said, not rising.
“Over there so you can harass your redhead while I get a lunch date and duck Cyn. You’re on.”
“You just lost ten bucks, old buddy,” Tony said, practically chortling. “I saw Min’s face when you came in, and she was not happy to see you.” He stood up, too. “I can’t believe you went for that. You hit her in the head, you dork. Why would she go anywhere with you?”
“Ten bucks first,” Cal said, holding out his hand.
“You have to get the date first,” Tony said. “Which ain’t happening.”
“No, this is for the redhead who did not come to get you in five minutes,” Cal said, and Tony sighed and got out his wallet.
Min was ignoring Cal and checking out Roger, when Liza pulled up the chair to her right and sat down.
“So,” Liza said, sliding over a Diet Coke and rum. “What’s new with Di?”
“I called her today,” Min said, picking up her drink. “I asked her if everything was okay with Wet—” She closed her eyes. “—with Susie, and she said, yes, Susie’s dating a very nice man and she’s fine with the wedding. And Worse . . . and Karen has talked to Susie and has assured Diana that Susie’s fine with it.”
“Is she delusional?” Liza said, as somebody pulled up a chair to Min’s left.
“Who? Wet, Worse, or Diana?” Min said.
“All of them,” Liza said.
“My guess is that Wet’s being brave, Worse is being a bully, and Diana’s in denial,” Min said, turning to see who was on her left. “Oh,” she said, when she saw Cal sitting there with two glasses in front of him. He was as beautiful as he’d been two nights before, and her DNA went wild again.
“Hello, little girl,” he said and flipped the hood on her sweater.
Liza snorted and turned to talk to Bonnie on her other side.
“Oh, that’s good,” Min said. “You’re definitely the first person to make a Red Riding Hood crack to me tonight. I’m never wearing this sweater again.”
“Hostility,” Cal said. “It’s déjà vu all over again. How’s your head?”
“The pain comes and goes,” Min said. “And then there are the voices.”
“Good. Now you have someone to talk to. Who are Wet, Worse, and Diana, and how did they get those terrible names?”
“Nobody you want to know.” Min picked up her drink. “What are you up to?”
“Let me guess,” Cal said, his voice heavy with scorn. “That’s a rum and Diet Coke. The breakfast of dieters.”
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“No, Buffy. Fate sent me over here to teach you to drink with dignity.” He took her rum away from her and slid one of his glasses over to her. “Glenlivet. Drink it slowly.”
Min frowned at him. “This is your idea of charm?”
“No,” Cal said. “I don’t waste charm on you. I’m trying to help you grow. Real women do not screw up good booze with diet soda.”
“Peer pressure,” Min said. “It never stops.”
“Try it,” Cal said. “One sip. You hate it, I’ll give you this slop back.”
Min shrugged. “Okay.” She picked it up and took a drink and then choked as the Scotch seared her throat.
“I said, sip, Dobbs,” Cal said over her gasping. “You’re supposed to savor it, not guzzle it.”
“Thank you,” Min said when she had her breath back. “You can go now.”
“No, I can’t.” He leaned closer, and Min started to feel too warm in her sweater. “I have a deal for you.”
Min picked up the Scotch again and sipped it. It was nice when you sipped it.
Cal leaned closer until he was almost whispering in her ear. “I want to know about Bonnie.”
His breath was warm on her neck, and Min blinked at him. “Bonnie? I think Roger’s got dibs on Bonnie.”
“I know. That’s why I want to know about her. Roger is . . .” Cal looked across the table. “. . . not adept with women. I want to know about your friend.”
“Well,” Min said, prepared to give Bonnie a perfect report card.
“Not here,” Cal said, still too close. “I think they’ll notice. I’ll meet you for lunch tomorrow. You know where Cherry Hill Park is?”
“I’ve heard of it,” Min said. “I don’t have the bank account to go up there and hang around.”
“There’s a picnic area on the north side,” Cal said. “I’ll meet you at the first table tomorrow at noon.”
“Why do I feel like there should be a code word?” Min said, finally pulling away from him. “I’ll say ‘pretentious’ and you say ‘snob.’ ”
“You want to know about Roger or not?” Cal said.
Min looked back at Bonnie. If you didn’t know her, she looked detached, but Min knew her. Bonnie was glowing. “Yes.”
“Good,” Cal said. “Let me see your shoes.”
“What?” Min said, and Cal looked under the table. She pulled her foot out, and he looked down at her open-toed high-heeled mules, laced across her instep with black leather thongs that contrasted with her pale skin and bright red toenail polish. “Liza calls them ‘Toes in Bondage,’ ” she said helpfully.
“Does she?” Cal sat very still, looking at her toes for a long momen
“Okay, I couldn’t hear the part at the end,” Liza said, leaning over to her. “What was he asking you?”
“I’m going to lunch tomorrow,” Min said, not sure how she felt about that. If he whispered in her ear again, she was going to have to smack him, that was all there was to it.
“Where?”
“Cherry Hill Park.”
“Jeez,” Liza said. “Softball of the Rich and Famous. What time?”
“Noon.”
Liza nodded. Then she raised her voice and called, “Tony.”
Min looked around for him and saw him at the roulette bar, handing Cal a ten-dollar bill. “I don’t believe it,” she said, straightening in outrage. The sonofabitch had bet on lunch and she’d fallen for it.
Tony looked up, and Liza crooked her finger. He walked over and said, “You know, I’m not the kind of guy you can do that to.”
“You and I are having lunch at noon tomorrow in Cherry Hill Park,” Liza said.
“Okay,” Tony said. “But only because I’ve gotta coach a softball game there in the morning anyway.”
“Good,” Liza said. “You can go now.”
Tony shook his head at her and went back to the bar and Cal.
“Well, at least he’s obedient,” Min said.
“Don’t get any ideas about saying yes at lunch,” Liza said.
“It’s lunch,” Min said. “In broad daylight. In a public park.”
“You said you weren’t going to see him, and he still got you to lunch.”
“I had a reason for that,” Min said, casting a bitter glance at the bar. Cal was still there, but now the brunette from Wednesday was there, too, moving closer to him in a blue halter top. That figured. Beast. “I’ll be fine, believe me, I know what he is.” She cast another look at the bar where Cal appeared to be sliding away from the halter top. Playing hard to get, the jerk.
“Yeah, well, I’m watching your back just the same,” Liza said. “And if it hits the grass, Calvin’s going to lose a body part.”
“Boy, you really don’t like him, do you?” Min said.
“I think he bet Tony he could get that lunch date,” Liza said.
“I think so, too,” Min said.
“See if you can do something horrible to him tomorrow,” Liza said.
“Already planning it,” Min said.
After another excruciating Saturday morning forcing fourteen eight-year-olds to play baseball against their better judgments, Cal was not in the mood to put up with Min, but he grabbed his cooler from the car, stopped by the charity hot dog stand for the main course, and went to meet her at the picnic table he’d told her about. She wasn’t there, so he threw an old blanket across the massive teak table—Cherry Hill did not stint on the amenities—put the basket on it, and then sat on top of the table, feeling cheerful about being stood up. It was a beautiful day, the park was thick with shade trees, the kids were gone, and nobody was bitching at him.
Then Min came into the park through the trees, following the curving crushed gravel path. She was wearing her long red sweater again, but this time she had on a red-and-black-checked skirt that floated when the breeze blew. Her hair was still wound in a knot on the top of her head, but her stride was long and loose as she came toward him, and the sun picked up glints of gold in her hair, and she smiled at him as she drew closer, and it suddenly seemed better not to have been stood up. And when he offered her his hand to help her up on the table, she hesitated and then took it, and her fingers were pleasantly, solidly warm as she boosted herself up beside him on the table.
“Hi,” she said and he grinned at her.
“Hi,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” Min dropped her bag on the bench below them. “Give me ten bucks.”
Cal blinked. “What?”
Min smiled at him, cheerful as the sun. “I was going to make your lunch a living hell, but it’s such a beautiful day, I’ve decided to enjoy it. You bet Tony ten bucks you could get me to lunch.”
“No, I didn’t,” Cal said.
Min’s smile disappeared.
“Tony bet me ten bucks I could get you to lunch.”
Min rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Give me ten bucks or I’m leaving you cold and you’ll have to give Tony his ten bucks back plus ten more because you’ve lost.”
“I think I won when you said, ‘Yes,’ ” Cal said, suddenly a lot more interested in Min.
“Try explaining that to Tony,” Min said.
“Okay,” Cal said. “How about we split it?”
Min held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Ten bucks, Charm Boy.”
Cal sighed and dug out his wallet, trying not to grin at her. She took the ten, picked up her bag, stuffed the bill in it and then pulled out a twenty and handed it to him.
“What’s this?” Cal said.
“That’s the twenty you gave me for cab fare on Wednesday,” Min said. “I forgot to give it back to you.”
“So now I’m up ten bucks,” Cal said.
“No, now you’ve broken even. It was your twenty to begin with. I had no right to it since you didn’t get fresh.”
Cal looked up at the sun. “The day’s young.”
“I don’t see you making your move on a picnic table,” Min said. “In fact, I don’t see you moving on me at all, so tuck that away and tell me everything you know about Roger.”
“I’m glad to see you, too,” he said, and her smile widened.
“Sorry. I forgot your lust for small talk. And how have you been in the fourteen hours since we last spoke, eight of which you were sleeping?”
“Fine. And you?”
“Wonderful. How much of this before we get to Roger and Bonnie?”
“You’re a very practical woman,” Cal said, and then Min pulled her legs up to tuck them under her and he caught sight of her shoes, ridiculous sandals made mostly of ribbons with a single bright red flower over the instep. “Except for your shoes.”
“Don’t make fun of my shoes.” Min wiggled redtipped toes under the flowers. “I love these shoes. Liza gave them to me for Christmas.” She untied the ribbons and pulled them off and put them on the table behind her, patting the flowers before she turned back to him.
“I can see why you love them,” Cal said, distracted by her toes, and then she pulled her skirt over them and he added, “They’re very Elvis.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You are an Elvis fan?”
“Best there is,” Cal said. “You, too?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Min looked perplexed and then said, “Well, I guess it does makes sense. You are the devil in disguise.”
“What?” Cal said, and then it hit him. “Elvis Presley?”
“Well, of course, Elvis Presley,” Min said. “What other . . . oh. The angels want to wear my red shoes. Elvis Costello.” She shrugged. “He’s good, too.”
Cal shook his head in disbelief. “Yes, he is.”
“Good thing this isn’t a date,” Min said cheerfully. “Or there’d be a really awkward silence while we tried to come back from that one.”
Cal grinned at her. “Have you ever had an awkward silence in your life, Dobbs?”
“Not many,” Min said. “You?”
“Nope.” Cal dumped the bag of wrapped hot dogs out on the blanket. “Okay. Roger and Bonnie. Have a hot dog while we talk.”
“A hot dog?” Min said, in the same tone of voice she’d have used to say “Cocaine?” “Those aren’t good for you.”
“They’re protein,” Cal said, exasperated. “You can have them. Just lose the bun.”
“Fat,” Min said.
“I thought fat was okay on no-carb diets,” Cal said, remembering Cynthie chowing down on buttered shrimp.
“It is, but I’m on a no-fat Atkins,” Min said.
Cal looked a
“Not much,” Min said, looking at the hot dogs with patent longing.
“They’re brats,” Cal said.
“Oh, just hell,” Min said.
“It’s Saturday,” Cal said. “Live a little.”
“That’s what you said Wednesday at Emilio’s. I’ve already sinned this week.”
“Saturday is the first day of the new week. Sin again.”
Min bit her lip, and the breeze picked up again, rustling the trees and lifting the edge of her skirt, floating it closer to him.
“I brought you Diet Coke to compensate,” he said, opening the cooler. “Also, this conversation is boring.”
“Right. Sorry.” She took the can he handed her and popped it open. “Really sorry. There’s nothing more boring than talking about food.”
“No,” Cal said. “Talking about food is great. Talking about not having food is boring.” He picked up one of the wax-paper-wrapped sandwiches and handed it to her. “Eat.”
Min looked at the hot dog, sighed, and unwrapped it. “You are a beast.”
“Because I’m feeding you?” Cal said. “How is that bad? We’re Americans. We’re supposed to eat well. It’s the American Way.”
“Hot dogs are the American Way?” Min said, and then stopped. “Oh. I guess they are, aren’t they? Right up there with baseball and apple pie.”
“Baseball you can have,” Cal said and bit into his hot dog.
Min squinted at his team shirt. “Isn’t that shirt sort of baseball-ish?”
“Yes,” Cal said. “For my sins, I teach children to run around bases on Saturday mornings. Someday, your husband will be doing this, too, while you sit in the bleachers and cheer on little whosis. It’s the price you pay for liberty.”
“I’m not having kids,” Min said, and bit into her hot dog.
“You’re not?” Cal said, and then was distracted by the look of bliss on her face while she chewed. The brats were good, but they weren’t that good.
She swallowed and sighed. “This is wonderful. My dad used to sneak us out for brats every time there was a festival anyplace within driving distance. My mother would have killed him if she’d known. Do you know how long it’s been since I tasted one of these? It’s heaven.”
“It looks like heaven,” he said, and then she leaned over to take another bite, keeping the sandwich over the waxed paper to catch the drippings, and he looked down the v-neck of her loose red sweater and saw a lot of lush round flesh in tight red lace. Tony would have a heart attack, he thought and then realized he was a little lightheaded himself. The breeze blew again and wafted her skirt against the hand he had braced on the table, and it tickled, soft and light.