Be My Baby Tonight (3 page)

“Oh, man oh man. Tim Trehan. Tim the Tiger.”
The young boy nearly fell off his crutches as he leaned forward to
get a better look at Tim.

“Hi, son, what’s the other guy look like?”
Tim asked, taking the autograph book and scribbling his name.

“Naw, it was just me. Fell off my bike.”

“Bummer. I did that, a couple of times. You
wearing your helmet?”

“Yes, sir,” Joe said, nodding. “My mom’d kill
me if I didn’t. You okay, Tim? Sanchez hit you pretty hard,
huh?”

Suzanna, holding her breath, trying to
pretend she was invisible, listened as Tim told the boy that he was
fine, that he’d been slid into plenty of times, blocking the
plate.

“Yeah, but you were down for a while. My dad
said it’s the Trehan curse. Did you see him in the clubhouse? I’m
waiting for him out here. He writes sports for our paper, you know?
He said all the writers know.”

Suzanna watched as Tim stiffened, a slight
tic working in his right cheek. “Oh, yeah? Well, you tell your dad
to—” He shut his mouth, shook his head. “Never mind.

This your mom?” he asked, jerking a thumb in
Suzanna’s direction.

“No, sir. She’s just some lady helped me up
here.” Suzanna winced. The story of her life. Just some lady.

Well, the hell with that!

“Hi, Tim, remember me?”

Tim looked at her, glanced in her direction
actually, and shook his head. Then he tipped his head to one side,
narrowed his eyelids. “No. No way. Suze?”

“Yup,” she said, knowing full well that her
cheeks were turning bright red. And her neck, and her forehead. She
was the most
thorough
blusher she knew. “It’s me, Tim. Good
old Suze.”

The next thing she knew, she was enveloped in
a bear hug that all but squeezed the breath from her body.

“Suze, I don’t believe it. God, it’s been
years.” Tim took hold of her shoulders, pushed her slightly away
from him, ran his gaze from her head to her toes, then back
again.

She looked good. She knew she looked good.
Anyone who took three hours bathing, dressing, and putting on her
makeup had damn well better look good. She’d even worn a dress, and
heels. For the love of God, she was hopeless—she’d worn heels to a
ball game. Who did that?

“You’ve changed,” he said, and she didn’t
know if she should give him points for his observant comment, or
punch him in the nose.

“I’ve lost weight, the braces, and about two
feet of hair, yes,” she answered, trying to keep it light.
Gotta
keep it light with Tim Trehan, always keep it light.
Otherwise,
all she’d see of him would be his back, as he ran away. “You look
good, especially for a guy who had his bell rung today.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t anything,” Tim said
quickly. “Just a part of the game.”

“I was listening to the post-game wrap-up on
my car radio while waiting around for a while,” Suzanna said. “They
said Sanchez might get brought up in front of the League president.
Fined, even suspended.”

“Could be,” Tim said, shrugging. “I don’t get
into that stuff.”

“I know. It was Jack who threw at a few guys’
heads as payback when he was pitching, as I remember it.”

“You know Jack. He lived by Don Drysdale’s
motto. Remember it? ‘My own rule was two-for-one. If one of my
teammates got knocked down, then—’“

“‘I knocked down two on the other team,’“
Suzanna ended, laughing. “I remember.”

Tim smiled with her. “God. It’s great seeing
you, Suze. You live in Pittsburgh now?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m just here on
business. I’m still in town, Allentown actually. After Mom and Dad
died, I sold that big house in Whitehall, took an apartment. You’re
still there in Whitehall, right?”

As if she didn’t know. One-thirty-seven Hill
Avenue and Thirteen-thirteen Mockingbird Lane; two addresses she’d
never forget, Tim Trehan and Herman Munster. She really ought to
think about having her head examined one of these days.

“Yeah, still there. When I’m home, which
isn’t often during the season.”

“Yo—Trehan! Today, okay?”

Tim turned to wave at Rich Craig, who was
standing on the bottom step of the bus. “In a minute.” Then he
turned back to Suzanna. “Look, I know it’s kind of late, but God,
Suze, it’s been forever since I saw you. Do you want to go for
something to eat? I have to go back on the bus, team rules, but you
could follow, meet me in the hotel, and we could grab something to
eat, catch up on old times? Our plane doesn’t leave until tomorrow
morning because we went into extra innings.”

“Something to—well, sure. Sure. My... My
car’s parked right outside this gate.” She half turned, pointed
toward the gate, as though she was giving directions.
Smooth,
Suze, real smooth. Why not drool, too.
“Where, um, where are
you staying? Just in case I lose the bus on the road.”

He told her what she already knew—because she
was booked at the same large hotel—then turned, walked partway to
the bus before turning again, giving her a grin that melted her
insides. “Good old Suze. Is this something, or what?”

Suzanna nodded, smiled, then stepped back,
half tripped over Joe’s crutch, and nearly fell. Good old klutzy
Suze, suddenly thirteen again.

Yeah, it was something all right.

But what?

And the ball is out here.

No, it’s not. Yes, it is.

No, it’s not. What happened?

— Phil Rizzuto

Yankees announcer

Tim snagged two more beers from the bar and
walked over to the table in the corner, where Suzanna waited for
him. He put down the beers, sat, and grinned across the table at
her.

“This has been great, Suze. It’s been
forever. I’m getting a real kick out of hearing about all the guys.
And the girls, of course.”

“Of course. You never came back for either of
the high school reunions,” she said, using her tongue to swipe some
foam from her upper lip. “Last one was this past May. Ten-year
reunion, if you can believe that. It should have been last year,
but you know Bobby Freedman. Late for everything. Why we ever
elected him class president is still a mystery.”

“He gave everybody gum in exchange for votes,
as I remember.”

“Yeah, that’s right. But you should have been
there. This one was fun. And Mindy Frett was fat.”

Then she sat back, her eyes wide. “Oh, I
shouldn’t have said that. That’s it, no more beer for me. Three’s
my limit, obviously.”

Tim. laughed. “No, no, I want to hear this.
Mindy’s fat? What happened?”

Suzanna lifted her frosted mug, using its wet
bottom to make rings on the tabletop. “She took over her dad’s
pizza place. Guess maybe it’s all the mozzarella?”

“Biggest attraction Mindy had, her dad’s
pizza place,” Tim said, half lost in memories. “She used to sneak
me into the back room, and I’d gorge myself on pepperoni. I was
crazy about her pepperoni.”

“I thought you were crazy about her—her, well
never mind. That’s the beer talking again.”

Tim’s grin was evil, and he knew it. “She had
quite a set, didn’t she?”

Suzanna took another sip of beer. “A lot you
know. She stuffed.”

Tim collapsed against the back of the chair,
goggling at her. Man, he was loving this trip down memory lane.
“No. Mindy stuffed?”

“Trust me. I took gym with her sixth period
for two years, remember. If I’d had the money, I’d have bought some
Kimberly–Clark stock, for all the Kleenex she used.” Suzanna put
down her beer. “Guess the rumors were wrong then, Tim. You never
got to second base with Mindy?”

Tim grabbed his beer, took several deep
swallows. “Don’t tell anybody, okay? I’ve got my killer reputation
to protect.”

* * *

Was Tim even more handsome than he’d been at
eighteen, or was she looking at him through rose-colored
glasses?

Okay, beer-bottle-colored glasses.

“... and then, just when Jack is about to
slit his own throat, the doorbell rings, and there stands this
woman, this interior decorator our Aunt Sadie hired because Jack
may have bought the house, but he hadn’t planned to be living in it
so soon.”

“Because he didn’t know his rotator cuff was
going to be shot,” Suzanna said, her chin balanced on her hand as
she tried to count the golden flecks in Tim’s eyes. “Then
what?”

“Hey, you know Jack. He’s got my cousin
Cecily’s baby in the kitchen, and a female at the front door. Baby,
female. Female, baby. He grabs the female, takes her to the baby.
Ah, they match. Perfect.”

“They match?”

“Sure,” Tim said. “Females, babies, diapers,
throw up, midnight feedings. A perfect match.”

Suzanna watched him down the last of what had
to be his, what, sixth glass of beer? That would mean she was on
her fifth, because she’d turned down one, but she hadn’t turned
down two. Or was it her sixth, his fifth? Oh, well, they were small
glasses. What time was it anyway?

“So Jack married this woman because she could
change diapers?”

Tim held up his hands, shook his head. “No.
No way. Jack’s nuts about Keely, and she’s crazy about him.
Although it was pretty hairy there for a while. But Cecily signed
Candy over to them, all nice and legal, and now Keely’s pregnant.
If my big brother got any more domestic, he’d scare me. Hell, he
does scare me.”

As Suzanna watched, Tim’s smile faded, and he
began tearing up a soggy napkin, avoiding her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing. He doesn’t really scare me. I just
said that.”

“Uh-huh,” Suzanna said, then reluctantly
looked at her watch. Damn, it took a few seconds for her eyes to
focus on the watch face. Standing up was going to be a real trick
if she didn’t watch herself.

It was dark in the bar, but when her mind
finally sorted out the big hand from the little, hand, she was
pretty sure it was nearly one in the morning. Did hotel bars close
at two? “Well, Tim, guess it’s time to go.”

“Go?” Tim took her hand as she began to rise,
held it, so that she quickly sat back down. Good thing, because she
was feeling pretty shaky.

“It’s late, Tim, and you said you have to
catch a morning plane? So do I, and I have to return my rental car
first.”

“But you didn’t tell me anything about you.
All this time, and all we’ve talked about is high school, my trip
to the All-Star game again this year, and Jack. What about you,
Suze? What’ve you been up to?”

“I told you, Tim. I work for a software
company. We sell the software; the company we sell it to thinks
they can work it. They can’t, they screw it up, and then they call
me in to fix it. I travel, a lot, and... Well, it suits me.”

“Traveling’s okay,” Tim said, “for a while.
Used to be I loved it, but now these long road trips, especially to
the coast, can be a real drag.” He tipped his head to one side,
looked at her. “The coast. That’s where you went, right? How come
you never wrote?”

“Well... I... I guess I was too busy?” She
didn’t remind him that he hadn’t written to her, either. Even
though she’d written the address of her dorm in a birthday card
she’d sent to both he and Jack. There had been a giraffe on the
front of the card, she remembered. A two-headed giraffe.

That was what she always did with Tim. Kept
it light, kept it funny. Hid everything else. Otherwise, the little
she had might become nothing.

“Busy. Tell me about it,” he said, leaning
forward.

She blinked, startled by his question. Tell
him about the giraffe? No, that couldn’t be what he’d meant. Man,
she’d better get out of here, pop a couple of Tylenol, and hope she
made it to the bed before she passed out.

“Come on, Suze. Tell me what it was like to
go to college in sunny California. Did you wear flowers in your
hair?”

“Wrong decade, Tim,” Suzanna said, laughing.
But then he asked her again, and he looked so cute when he begged;
so she told him about what it had been like in California... right
after he got them both another beer.

She never knew she liked beer so much. She
hadn’t had any since college. She never had more than a glass of
wine, ever since she’d turned twenty-one and the thrill of sneaking
an illegal sip was gone.

But this was fun. She felt sort of soft, and
liquidy, or something. And she wasn’t nervous anymore.

That was nice.

* * *

“Last call, folks.”

Tim checked his watch. “Wow, almost two.” He
smiled at Suzanna, who was looking sort of sleepy. Sort of fuzzy
around the edges. Really cute.

She smiled back at him, her chin cupped in
her hand. “Somebody whistle for my pumpkin,” she said, turning to
the purse sitting on the extra chair, pulling it onto the top of
the table so she could rummage in it for her room key.

“Don’t you mean your coach, Cinderella?” he
asked, taking her wallet from her so that he could find the key
card to her room.

“Nope, my pumpkin. It’s already after
midnight. Ah, thanks, Tim,” she said, holding out her hand for the
card.

He moved his own hand slightly, and she
hesitated before she could follow, her movements slow, a little
clumsy.

“How many beers did I feed you?” he asked,
holding on to the key card as he helped her to her feet. His own
head felt a little scrambled. He reached into his pocket, threw
four twenties on the table. “Man, how many beers did we both have?
Let’s get out of here.”

He slipped an arm around Suzanna’s slim
waist, and she sort of melted against his side as they walked out
of the bar, into the large lobby. She felt good, pressed against
him. Not too tall, not too short. And she smelled good, too. And he
liked her hair. All sort of short and spikey. Like Dusty’s, but a
much deeper, darker red, and it looked a hell of a lot better on
Suze.

“You didn’t feed me, you know,” she said when
they stopped in front of the bank of elevators.