Games We Play

by Ruthie Robinson

  “‘Scouts’?” Kendall said, turning to look at her aunt.

  “Three of them work with me, voluntarily, of course, and by that I mean that they pass information along to me. Luis, who is the manager of the bingo hall—I’ll introduce to him to you later—”

  “I’ve met him, I think. He’s a friend of Barnabus’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “I met him yesterday.”

  “Good. He has a brother, Juan, who’s our mayor, and between the two of them, they know most, if not all, of the people in this town. The Colonel, who’s our first gay city councilman, is my third scout. He’s ex-military, from before don’t ask, don’t tell. He reports to me on the city council, the chamber of commerce, and our small but growing LGBT community. You’ll meet later him later today; I meet him at the Brewpub every day. Those are my scouts,” Myra said.

  “I’m impressed. I’m surprised you didn’t mention Cooper’s name, though,” Kendall said, glancing at her aunt. “So how long have you been giving away your money?”

  “I started before George passed. He was my first scout, and Cooper’s too busy with the pub and the golf course to help.”

  “I see,” Kendall said, staring out the window. “Uncle George left enough behind to financially cover all of what you do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you help other students like Destiny pay for college, or is she the only one?”

  “No, there are others. Destiny is the first to attend college in her family, and I’ll be covering what her financial-aid package doesn’t.”

  “How did you find her?”

  “Through the school counselor who goes to my church. She is very helpful in letting me know which students need the most help. We help students who want to attend four-year colleges, as well as those who are only interested in two-year programs, like in nursing. But yes, she is an example of the type of help I try to provide,” Myra said, checking her watch again.

  “That is one huge commitment,” Kendall said, glancing over at her aunt.

  “One that is needed here,” Myra said.

  It was quiet between the two of them for a few minutes. Finally Kendall spoke. “I really meant it when I said I didn’t want your money,” she said. “I never did. I know people think they need so much money, and more is always better, but is it really? When is enough, enough? Everything nowadays is about money. Maybe it always has been, but I’ll tell you what, living with Vivian has cured me of believing that money is the end all, be all,” she said, her gaze still on her aunt’s. “So if you’re using your money for good, then more power to you.”

  Myra smiled, pleased again with Kendall’s answer, pleased with the young woman her niece had grown into, and pleased to have another item she could write down in her journal of things she was grateful for. That list and her efforts in serving others were all that had stood between her and death’s door since the loss of her husband. She loved that man something fierce, and she hadn’t been sure she could go on without him. Finishing what they’d started had kept her on this side of the grave, for which she would always be grateful.

  #

  Kendall and her aunt left for the bingo hall immediately after lunch. She watched as her aunt traded in her bag filled with papers for another bag, this one pink and filled with all things bingo. Kendall didn’t have any idea what was required. She’d never attended a game before. Hadn’t played since she was a small girl.

  “How old is this place?” Kendall said, looking at the building that stood in front of them. She remembered passing it on her jog. Built from wood and painted white, it looked like the old grocery store from a movie, pre-Civil Rights era, something straight out of To Kill a Mockingbird. It seemed as though the front porch should be filled in with those old white men, some wearing little string ties, others with their shirts open at the throat, sitting around a table, playing dominoes or just watching the people come and go. Kendall had never associated pictures like that with anything positive. She and Aunt Myra were sitting out front in her SUV, watching people enter. Myra waved to a few.

  “It’s been standing since the late 1800s. It was built by Cooper’s family, and it used to be the old company store and lunchroom for the old quarry when it was in business. The employees would stop by, pick up their lunch, and eat here. You could also purchase supplies and other household goods.”

  “Barnabus’s ancestors,” Kendall said. Her aunt chuckled at her.

  “Yes. He really hates to be called Barnabus. That was a small warning, feel free to continue on as you choose,” Myra said, a huge smile on her face. Kendall gave her an answering grin, and her aunt laughed as she turned back to face the building.

  “Cooper One built this town from scratch, first the quarry, and then most of the buildings you see around here…All of it came from funding from the Cooper family’s coffers. Most people in town who are older than me worked at the quarry. Up until Cooper One died, it was the only place you could work. That was before Tom Baker came to town and started up the cement plant. Two generations of Cooper men owned and operated the quarry. It used to be the main supplier of limestone and granite around here for central Texas.”

  “Barnabus didn’t want to continue the family business?” Kendall asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s different,” Myra said, an explanation as clear as mud.

  “Was the Brewpub part of the town then?” Kendall asked.

  “No, that’s only been there for five years, and it was strictly Cooper’s doing. He is as different from his father and grandfather as night from day.”

  “In what way?” Kendall asked.

  “All the ones that matter,” Myra said, looking out the front window and waving to a group of ladies who stood in front of the car. She stuck her head out the window. “I’ll just be a minute more. You all go on ahead,” she said to two women who were lingering next to the entrance.

  Kendall had no idea what that comment meant either, so she chose to let it go as she had her aunt’s earlier one. She didn’t want to give her aunt any reason to hope that she and Coop would ever be anything more.

  “And we had better get in. Luis believes in starting the games on time,” Aunt Myra said, still smiling.

  #

  “So you’re Cooper’s ex?” Donna asked. She’d heard rumors, but she preferred to go to the source for her information. She and Celeste were sitting at one of the tables out front, wrapping cutlery in preparation for the onslaught of customers who were on vacation at the state park. So far, Cooper’s ex had done nothing but work; she didn’t talk much, which was why Donna had to ask her questions.

  It was quiet now at the pub, the period just after the lunch rush and before the dinner rush, when you could breathe. There would be less and less of that as the summer wore on. But for now she and Celeste could sit, work, and talk.

  “Yes,” Celeste said.

  “Where did you two meet?”

  “In Belgium,” she said.

  “Belgium? Where is that?”

  “Overseas.”

  “I know it’s overseas, I’m not that sheltered. I meant where overseas?”

  “In the middle of France, Germany, and the Netherlands.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know he’d lived overseas.”

  “Yes. He’d been living there for three years when we met. It’s where he learned so much about the beer business.”

  “So are you here to get him back or something?” she asked, watching Celeste’s small, dainty fingers work. She was a fast study.

  “No. I just needed a job.”

  “That’s fine, you don’t have to tell me.”

  “Really, I just needed a job,” she said.

  “Okay, fine, whatever,” Donna said, irritated. Keep it to yourself if you want to, she thought.

  Celeste just smiled and shrugged.

  #

  Kendall sat in her car in the parking lot of the Cooper’s place three hours later. She’d
had to drive around for a few minutes, searching for a parking space. She and Myra were done with bingo, and it was on to the pub for beer and dinner, the next item on her aunt’s daily schedule.

  “If this place is always this busy, he needs to add more parking,” Kendall said.

  “It’s a popular place. I’d say famous, even. It’s the second cooperative brewpub in the state. The first one is in Austin. The pub is a local favorite with visitors to the state park,” Myra said, opening her car door.

  “Cooperative? I’m surprised Barnabus would be up for others having a say in anything,” Kendall said, getting out of the car.

  Myra laughed. “No, we all own it, actually—the town does, and any and all residents who are interested in owning a share can buy one,” Myra said.

  “Interesting,” Kendall said over the hood. “I don’t drink beer,” she added as she met Aunt Myra at the front of the vehicle.

  “A wine drinker then,” Aunt Myra said to her.

  “It’s not that I think I’m too good to drink beer or anything. I just prefer wine. It’s flavorful, and I’ve found it makes for a more satisfactory drinking experience. Plus I’ve never acquired a taste for beer, it’s like light-gold-colored urine in my opinion. I mean, I obviously don’t know what urine tastes like, but I’d bet money that it tastes like beer. Unless it’s cold enough for my lips to get stuck to the can, I can’t stomach it,” she said, following her aunt around to the front of the building.

  “You have to taste Cooper’s beer,” Aunt Myra said, holding the front door open for her niece to enter.

  “Sure,” she said. No way would she put anything else that belonged Barnabus to her lips anytime soon. She shook her head at the speed with which she had made herself available to him.

  It wasn’t as crowded as it had been on the weekend, but it was still full. It was just before dinner. Did this many people really visit the state park? “The state park is busier than I thought,” Kendall said. She’d had no idea. Her family hadn’t been much on communing with nature. Her mother’s idea of nature was a nice hotel or spa or ski resort set back in the mountains.

  “It gets two thousand visitors daily at its peak in the summer,” Myra said.

  “Really? Wow, I wouldn’t have thought that,” Kendall said, glancing around the room, on the lookout for Barnabus while trying to appear nonchalant. He was nowhere in sight, and was that disappointment she felt? “Hell no,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What did you say?” Aunt Myra asked, glancing over at her.

  “Nothing, just clearing my throat,” Kendall said. She and Myra approached the hostess stand.

  “Hello, Mrs. Myra.”

  “Hello,” she said, and turned to face Kendall. “Donna, this is my niece, Kendall, who is visiting me this summer. Donna is the older sister of Destiny, whom you met this morning,” Myra said, completing their introduction.

  “Nice to meet you,” Kendall said before they followed her across the room. Cooper stood talking to a man seated in front of him at the bar. Kendall caught his gaze after it skimmed over her body. She offered him her fake, over-the-top sugary smile again. Yeah, like she would forget. He returned his gaze to his customer.

  The Colonel had already been seated at their table. It turned out that he was close to her aunt’s age, tall, tanned, fit, and dressed formally in slacks and a dress shirt. He wasn’t really a colonel—it was a nickname that her Uncle George had given him to go with his penchant for giving orders. He’d had been in the army, and he and George and Cooper had all worked to get the pub up and running.

  The Colonel wore his dark blond hair in the buzz style that military men favored.

  “You must be Kendall,” the Colonel said, stretching his hand out to her. He pulled her hand toward him and kissed the back of it. “Myra has told be so much about you,” the Colonel said.

  “Nice to meet you,” Kendall said, adding gallant to her list of adjectives she’d use to describe the man. She took the chair across from her aunt. The Colonel sat in between the two of them.

  Cooper walked over to their table a few minutes later. He had a couple of beers in his hand, and he placed one of them in front of the Colonel.

  “It’s something new I’ve been working on. It’s a pale ale, and I’ve been trying out a couple of different malts. Tell me what you think,” he said, his eyes on the Colonel.

  “Sure, with pleasure.”

  “Myra, your usual,” Coop said, setting a light brown beer in front of her aunt.

  “Thank you,” Myra said, picking up her glass and sniffing it.

  Okay, Kendall thought, since when did people start sniffing beer before drinking it?

  “Professor, what would you like to try?” Cooper said, interrupting her musings.

  “Water or tea is fine with me.”

  “Not going to try a beer?” Cooper said.

  “You know, I’m not much into beer,” she said.

  “You haven’t tried a Coopersville-brewed beer. We have won more than our share of awards, haven’t we, Cooper?” the Colonel said, full-out pride on display.

  She twisted her nose and gave Cooper her fake plastic smile again. “That’s okay. I’ll pass,” she said.

  “Suit yourself,” Cooper said.

  “I always do,” she replied.

  “I’ll be right back with your water. Give you some time to look over the menu,” he said.

  “The Colonel, George, and I were some of the first supporters of the Coopersville Brewpub, especially when Cooper suggested that it should become a cooperative,” Myra said.

  “That’s so nice,” Kendall said.

  Cooper smiled at the professor before walking away.

  Kendall stole more than a few glances at Cooper as he moved around the building, talking to customers, comfortable in his skin and confident in his role here. The Colonel and Myra were content to watch Kendall and Cooper. Aunt Myra smiled at the Colonel and winked.

  “Kendall,” Aunt Myra said, “Alex, the chef here, makes a spicy praline mix that goes very nicely with the beer here. Would you ask Cooper if he has any left?”

  “Sure,” Kendall said.

  #

  Kendall stood at the bar, waiting for Cooper to turn around. She’d been standing there for five minutes and counting. Hell no, was she going to call attention to herself. He knew she was there. She’d caught his glance, his eyes running over her for a second, as she made her way to the bar. She ran her eyes over the back of his body, and memories of him moving behind her made it hard to rein in her desire for more.

  “Professor, you’ve changed your mind about that beer?” he asked, finally turning to face Kendall after another two or three minutes had passed.

  “Nope. No. Nada,” she said, just to rub it in. “Myra wants me to bring her some kind of praline dish.”

  He walked away from her, returning with a bowl filled with something that looked a little darker than normal pralines. She picked up a piece.

  “Be careful. It’s pretty hot,” he said in warning.

  “Right,” she said, but the look she gave him said, I can handle myself. She took a bite of it, chewed a minute, and choked.

  Dang it was hot, Kendall thought. Cooper handed her a small glass of beer. She took a huge pull without glancing at the contents, then she pulled the glass out in front of her face to look at it. “Yuck,” she said, coughing, her face a twisted mess of distaste.

  “Water?” she managed to croak out in between coughs.

  He poured her a glass from a nearby pitcher and handed it to her. Watched as she drained it.

  “Hot,” he said, again.

  “Yes, it was,” she said, trying to answer quickly, playing off the fact that she was working hard not to choke again. “See you around, Barnabus.” She picked up her bowl of pralines and walked away from him.

  “It’s Cooper,” he said.

  “Barnabus the dick, remember?” she said, smiling as she turned to look at him again.

  He d
idn’t say anything to that, just stood watching her walk back to her aunt and the Colonel.

  Ten

  “Where is the lovely Celeste?” Luis said later on that evening. He was at the pub, sitting at the bar in front of his friend.

  “In the back.”

  “How is that working out?”

  “Fine, so far she’s just done her job.”

  “How’s it going with the professor? I saw her this afternoon. She and Myra came in to play bingo,” Luis said.

  “The same. She’s still playing the angry woman scorned.”

  “And what role did you take? The angry dude, I’ll bet.”

  “I’m not angry.”

  “Of course you’re not,” Luis said, taking a sip of his beer. “So you’re going to let the opportunity to spend time with the professor this summer slip through your fingers.”

  Cooper shrugged.

  “What’s up? I’m surprised at you. What, she didn’t accept your apology quick enough?”

  Cooper shrugged again, and Luis shook his head, a grin on his lips. He took another pull from his beer glass. Cooper pulled out a glass and placed it under the spout, filling an order.

  “You could make her change your mind, if you wanted to. It wouldn’t be as hard as you think,” Luis said.

  “I never said it would be hard.”

  “You sure you’re not just scared of her?”

  “Me, scared? Why would I be afraid of the professor?”

  “You dropped your guard really fast with her, when you and she…the first night, the same day you met her. You liked her so much you just threw Myra’s concerns right out of the window. That’s fast for Mr.-I-don’t-trust-anyone, and you know it. I can only conclude that you’re afraid of her. She must have all the qualities you want in a woman, and how scary is it that the one for you might be African American,” Luis said.

  Cooper chuckled. “Remember, my first one is running around back there, and she dropped me for some other dude. There’s no such thing as the one. But I can see what you’re up to, and it won’t work,” he said.

  “It could if you wanted it to. You can be persuasive when you have to be, at least that’s what I’ve heard. I haven’t seen you try in a long, long time, so who knows…You may have lost your skills. And what a better way to show Celeste-the-ex that she will continue to be an ex than by hanging out with someone new?” Luis said.