The Brat and the Brainiac

  “How’s Jason?” I ask right away.

  “Fine. Sad. I saw him today after the game and he looked pretty tore back. Poor guy, he’s probably dying to call you.”

  My eyes fill with tears. I never meant to hurt him. The last thing I wanted was to hurt him, but I have a rotten temper and I’m kind of bratty, is all. The elephant’s back, stepping on my chest again, so I try to distract myself by telling Uncle Tommy all about my plan to learn housework.

  “What are you doing, trying to replace Ignatius? Because I won’t let him go.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want you to. Do you think there’s any way Jason can find out I’m learning housework?”

  “Let’s just leave him alone for a couple of days, and then maybe I’ll go talk to him.”

  “Okay. You probably know best in this case.”

  “What do you mean? I haven’t had to dump a chick in months. Besides, I don’t dump them if I’m going to feel bad about it, like he does. I dump them because I don’t care anymore.”

  I laugh. “You’re way more experienced with women than he is. I mean, I kind of had to teach him where to zoom in at.”

  “All right. I’m getting off the phone before you say something horrifying.”

  “Okay. Love you. Bye.”

  “Bye, Brat.”

  I hang up with Uncle Tommy, and a little while later, my phone rings again. Ignatius is teaching me how to load the dishwasher for maximum savings, so I answer, just for a break.

  “Hi, Miranda. This is Amanda Rankin.”

  “Hi,” I say, happy to hear from her. “How are you?”

  “Do you want to go shopping tomorrow? Jordan’s birthday is coming up and I need to get him something.”

  “Okay. I’ll be working until five. I got a job, did you know? I can meet you there at five.”

  We hash out the details, and I turn back to Ignatius.

  “Well, it’s good to see you still maintain your social life, even through your heartbreak.”

  “Kittens,” I say.

  “Kittens? Where?”

  “No, you have to say ‘kittens’ in your head. That’s what they taught us in charm school. It makes you smile, even when you’re down, because who can think of kittens and not smile?”

  “Rats and mice.”

  “Stop. I’m trying to be cheerful.”

  But just thinking about being cheerful leads me on to thinking about Jason and his sweet, lop-sided smile.

  “All he ever wanted was for me to be happy,” I tell Ignatius. “I am such a bitch.”

  “Miranda...”

  “No. I mean, I probably looked like a spoiled little princess when I stomped up the stairs and told him to fuck off.”

  “Yes. Your uncle’s been telling you to curb your temper for years now. Maybe now you’ll listen.”

  “Damn right I will,” I tell him. “Now what were you saying about silverware?”

  Amanda and I have a pretty good time shopping, even though my heart aches inside, especially when she talks about Jason.

  “I hear you’re going out with that nice Jewish boy who coaches pitching.”

  “He’s not Jewish. I don’t think. No, he totally ate a ham sandwich in front of me. But anyways, we broke up.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Oh, well, plenty of fish in the sea.”

  “What’s it like being married?” I ask, and she smiles. I have to hurry to keep up with her because she has a long stride, but I manage.

  “It’s great. I know a lot of people complain about their marriages, but I love it, I love being married to my best friend.”

  I think about her answer, and I wonder if Jason and I were best friends. It’s true we didn’t know each other a hundred percent, but I feel like we bonded immediately. When I first went up to him at Uncle Tommy’s party, I fully meant to blow him off, but he was so nice I couldn’t.

  “Anyway, don’t worry,” she says. “You’re so young and pretty, you’ll have a million chances.”

  I nod and wish I could believe that, but deep down inside, I don’t. I don’t think Jason’s the type to spread rumors, but I’ve been around the ball club long enough to know how these things get around. I feel like everyone will find out how stupid and bratty I looked, and my reputation will be in shreds.

  “Too bad I don’t know any non-baseball guys,” I tell her.

  She stops in the middle of the mall and turns to me.

  “Miranda, everything will turn out all right. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”

  “No, you’re right. I’m sorry I’m such a whiner.”

  “You can talk to me any time.”

  We finish shopping and I don’t buy much, even though I have Uncle Tommy’s credit card. For some reason, I just don’t feel like wasting money frivolously right now. I think about Jason and his tiny condo, and I realize things aren’t the way I always thought, that even guys with a decent income can find it hard to make ends meet. That’s a concept I wasn’t really aware of until recently.

  “Well, it costs a lot of money to live around here,” says Ignatius, buffing the silver tray he’s just polished. “I’m lucky your uncle lets me live in.”

  “He’s really nice, isn’t he? I don’t treat him nearly as well as I ought to.”

  I sniffle, and Ignatius glances over at me.

  “My God, you’re in a morbid mood lately. I’m going to stop hanging around you if you’re not careful.”

  “No, don’t do that. You’re almost my last living friend in the world.”

  “Oh, Miranda, I see I’m going to have to send you to bed.”

  Our glances meet and my tears spill over. He sets down the tray and the rag and reaches toward me. I can smell the polish on his hand and it’s a comforting smell.

  “Can I help?” I ask.

  “Certainly. There’s always plenty to do. Why don’t you pour us some wine and I’ll get you set up.”

  I go to Uncle Tommy’s wine cellar under the stairs and grab a bottle of the Chianti Ignatius favors. This time I remember to bring back a couple of glasses, too.

  “Is two enough, or will Kevin be joining us?”

  “You tell me,” he says. “Are you going to weep all over the table if he comes?”

  “No. I’ll be all right.”

  The funny thing, the thing nobody ever told me about is, physical labor is good for a broken heart. Helping Ignatius polish that silver keeps my mind off Jason. Not all the way, but enough so I can tolerate the presence of Kevin with equanimity, like I promised. Plus, he jumps right in and helps us, so Ignatius’s task is done three times faster than it normally would have been.

  “Let’s eat,” I say, having built up an appetite.

  “What would you like?”

  “What have you got?”

  “I’ve got some beautiful prawns. I could make Shrimp Scampi.”

  “Okay,” I tell him. “That sounds good. Kev?”

  “Yeah, sounds great to me.”

  “All right, then. Shrimp Scampi it is. Miranda, come here and grab a knife. I think it’s time you learned cooking, too.”

  “Aw, come on, Ignatius. I’m tired.”

  “Too bad. A woman’s work is never done. Now get over here and learn how to peel and chop garlic.”

  I kind of dragged my way over there, but once I was in the inner circle of the cabinets and countertop, I felt better.

  “It’s strange to be on this side of things,” I tell him with a smile.

  “Grab a knife. And a cutting board. Don’t cut on that countertop, for God’s sake. Your uncle will have all our heads. Now, you break the cloves out of the head and lay them on your board. Yes, good. Turn your knife sideways like this and give them each a good whack. Now you can peel them and finish chopping them. Good girl.”

  “I’m learning so many new things the past few days,” I say. “Things I never dreamed I’d need to know.”

  “Want another glass of wine, Miranda?” asks Kevin.

  “No
. I have to work tomorrow, so I’d better not get too bombed. Besides, I have to work on a paper.”

  I drop the knife with a clatter.

  “Oh, my God. I just remembered. All my notes are at Jason’s house. Plus, what I was planning to wear to work tomorrow. What am I going to do?”

  “Do you have the key?” asks Ignatius.

  “Yes, he made me one when he thought I was going to be living there.”

  “Then call him up and ask him if you can get in and get your stuff.”

  “He won’t take any of my calls.”

  “Then call your uncle and have him ask. But first, let’s eat.”

  So I take Ignatius’s advice and we chow down on his delicious Shrimp Scampi. I call Uncle Tommy and he says he’s down at the bar, but he’ll call Jason for me and ask for permission. Forty-five minutes later, just as we’re done cleaning up, my phone rings. I pick it up without even checking the number.

  “Yeah?”

  “Miranda? This is Jason. Go ahead and get your stuff, and when you’re all done, just put the key on the kitchen counter and lock up.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  The fact that he wants me to leave the key is discouraging, but I put it to the back of my mind. We decide that, since I went ahead and had another glass of wine with dinner, Ignatius ought to take me. We all three pile into his red car and head for Jason’s.

  “Wait until you see this courtyard,” I tell them. “It’s so pretty.”

  When we get there, they admire the courtyard like I hoped they would, with its oak tree in the middle and the azaleas and Japanese elms bordering the concrete walkways.

  “Very pretty, very nice,” Ignatius agrees, and we all go inside. The minute I walk through the door, I start crying.

  “What’s wrong now?”

  “His condo smells just like him.”

  “Well? That’s natural, if he lives here.”

  “I know, but I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Let’s just get your stuff.”

  The light over the stove is on, and I go in the kitchen and grab a bag from underneath the sink. I take it into the bedroom to clear out all my junk, including the makeup and blow dryer Jason bought me, and then I take my two work outfits off the hangers and fold them neatly. Last of all, I find my notebooks and hand them to Kevin.

  “Can you carry these? I’ll carry the bag and Ignatius, you get my clothes.”

  We all grab my stuff and carry it into the living room, but once we’re in there, I stop. The doorknob’s rattling, like somebody’s trying to get in. We all three look at each other, and Ignatius signs for us to stay quiet. He sets my clothes down on the couch and tiptoes over to the door to stand behind it. No sooner does he get into position than the door opens, and some scuzzy-looking white guy comes in, the lock-picking tools still in his hand.

  Ignatius gets the drop on him, grabbing him from behind and knocking the burglar tools out of his hand. Once he’s disarmed, Ignatius wrenches the guy’s arms behind his back and tells me to call 911.

  When the guy hears that, he tries to fight back and escape, but Kevin has dropped my notebooks by then and joined in the fray. Within a minute or two, they have one beat-up burglar on their hands. I run to Jason’s room and get a couple of his ties to tie the guy up with, and then I call 911. We hold the crook like that until the police arrive.

  “Call Jason and tell him what’s happened here tonight,” says Ignatius. “Ask him if he wants us to have a deadbolt put in.”

  “What’s a deadbolt?” I ask.

  “It’s a more secure type of lock. Just call him and ask.”

  Jason’s shocked to hear that someone has tried to rob his condo, and he agrees with Ignatius that he needs a deadbolt. He laughs when I tell him how we captured the criminal and had him carted off by the police, and it gives me heart.

  “I didn’t even get scared,” I tell him. “I just stayed calm and ran to find something to tie him up with. Oh, I owe you two or three ties. It’s all I could find.”

  “No problem.”

  “The only thing is, now I’m not going to be able to lock the key inside, so what should I do with the new keys? Overnight them to you?”

  “No. Why don’t you just hang onto them for me? I’ll come get them when we get back to town.”

  “All right. Hey, Jase?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you still mad at me? Like, does this make up for how bratty I was at all?”

  “Not much,” he says in a grim voice. “I’m still very angry about the way you behaved.”

  “Couldn’t I just, like, get punished and let this all be over with?”

  “It’s not that simple, Miranda.”

  “Then I don’t know what to do.”

  He sighs like he’s had enough of me and says, “Just hang onto the keys for me until I get back.”

  “Okay, but Jase? Would it be better if I just left the keys with Ignatius so you wouldn’t have to look at me at all? Just tell me how much your ties usually cost and I’ll leave you a check.”

  “I don’t know. Twenty-five dollars apiece?”

  “So, you don’t want to see me, is that correct?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know yet.”

  With that, he hangs up the phone, like he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. My heart freezes over and I feel like throwing up all that lovely Shrimp Scampi Ignatius made for us.

  “What did he say?” Ignatius asks me.

  “He said he doesn’t know if he can see me. But I’m still glad we caught the burglar, even if he doesn’t like me anymore.”

  Ignatius grabs me and drags me into his embrace, and I’m just about to start crying on his shoulder when there’s a knock at the door. Kevin opens it, and there’s a guy standing there with a toolbox.

  “The guy’s here to fix the lock,” he tells us, and Ignatius lets go of me and goes to attend to the lock fixing. When the guy’s finished and paid (with Uncle Tommy’s credit card,) Ignatius turns to me and asks me if I’m still tired.

  “Not too much.”

  “Good,” he says. “Let’s go to the Indian Casino.”

  “Let me call Uncle Tommy and ask him if I can get some money.”

  Since it’s a Saturday night, the casino’s pretty crowded, but I do manage to find a place at the bar where I can sit and play the poker machine. I get carded, of course, but then the guy next to me, an older guy who looks to be in his late thirties, starts buying me drinks. Why I always attract the crustors is beyond me. I hardly ever get asked out by a guy my own age. He asks me where I live and what I do and I tell him I’m still in college.

  “Really? What are you taking?”

  “Just General Ed,” I tell him, mostly because I don’t want to deal with a long explanation. “What about you? What do you do? You’re not in professional sports or anything, are you?”

  “No, I’m a computer programmer,” he tells me. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because my last boyfriend works for the Quails, and they’re on the road all season.”

  Just then, Ignatius comes over to check on me. After that, the guy, whose name I didn’t even catch, stops asking me such prying questions. But he also stops buying me drinks, so I get up and wander off to the slot machines by myself.

  There are still a lot of the poker-type machines and the old-school slots, but they also have a lot of fun, animated ones. I sit down at one I’ve never played before and stick a couple of twenties in the money slot. I push the button that spins the reels, and all of a sudden, lights and bells go off.

  Jason

  After I hang up with Miranda, I put my head down on the little desk by the phone. I just want to cry, but I can’t be seen to be weak, so I hold it in like my dad would tell me to do.

  I don’t know if I made a mistake or not. I don’t know if I’m being too harsh with Miranda. She’s a very sweet girl when she’s not acting all bratty, and I think about her offer to let me punish her.

  I can’t m
ake up my mind what’s the right thing to do. I thought after I dumped her, I’d go through a couple of days of torture and then get over it, but it’s been two days already, and it’s felt like two months. I decide to seek out Tommy and see if he’ll go somewhere with me for a quiet drink, away from the rest of the team. We’re in Tampa Bay, so there are plenty of bars.

  “Yeah,” he tells me. “Let’s do it.”

  We choose the bar of another hotel down the block. It’s a quieter place than the one we’re staying in, with lots of elderly people. In fact, our announcers are there, hanging out with a ballplayer from the past, who’s long since retired. We say hi, and then we chose a table halfway across the room from them.

  “So, what do you think about your place getting busted into?”

  “I’m just glad Miranda wasn’t there alone.”

  “I think I’m going to teach her how to shoot when the season’s over,” he tells me,

  “maybe even get her a concealed carry permit.”

  “You trust her with a gun?”

  “Hell yeah. She’s not as dingy as she seems. She’s just...like I said before...kind of careless about some things. But you should hear her. She’s got Ignatius teaching her how to do housework.”

  I flush, because I know that’s for me, and I don’t know what to think about it.

  “She’s trying hard,” he tells me. “Maybe you should give her another chance, teach her what flies and what doesn’t. I take the paddle to her ass when she gets out of hand with me.”

  “I know. She told me.”

  I felt a little uncomfortable discussing Miranda’s discipline, especially in a public place, but the waitress comes and breaks up our conversation.

  “Rum and soda,” I say, and instantly regret my choice, because it reminds me of Miranda and the first night we met, how she fixed me a really good drink.

  “She really knows how to throw a party,” I tell Tommy, once the waitress is gone.

  “Yeah, she does. I’ve got her trained for it.”

  A minute later, the waitress returns with our drinks. Mine’s good, but not as good as the one Miranda made me.