Games We Play

by Ruthie Robinson

  “Not really.”

  “I suspect it’s you. I think you’re the man who’s funding Aunt Myra’s causes. Are they your causes too?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

  “Really, and why don’t I believe that? It’s not a bad thing to want to help others, to use your money for good.”

  “If that’s what I was doing, I’d agree with you,” he said.

  She stared at him, disbelief visible in her eyes.

  “It’s okay. I understand your need to remain anonymous. You have a lot of money, and it explains your gold-digger fixation. I can see the need to be guarded. But you can tell me, really. Why do you do it?” she asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Help?”

  “There is no help.”

  “Is it your way of proving to the town that you’re different from your ancestors? I’ve heard a lot about them, about this town and how it used to be. Cooper One and Two weren’t very nice men. Did you know they used to have Klan rallies around here?”

  He didn’t say a word, but she noticed his jaw tighten.

  “Or maybe this is your way of being in charge of the town too, just like your forefathers, taking up where they left off—slightly different, slightly kinder, yet everybody is beholden to you all the same.”

  “You’re smart. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, and nobody is beholden to me,” he said, more forcefully than he’d intended.

  “You mean that, don’t you?” she said, watching him, like a hawk does its prey. He didn’t reply.

  “Why, then?” she asked.

  “We’re back to that again?” he said, starting to get irritated.

  “Why use the co-op as your business model, instead of a sole proprietorship? You would be the sole person making the decisions, you’d get to keep all of the money for yourself, and you wouldn’t have to answer to anyone,” she said.

  “That’s not it at all, Professor. The way I see it is that if I fail, the whole town fails. I won’t be the only one left responsible. What’s the fun in failing by yourself when you can take others along with you?” he said.

  “Why can’t you admit it?”

  “Admit what?”

  “That you’re one of the good guys.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Luis says you are.”

  “Luis talks more than he should.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said.

  “Do I need to be a good guy for you?” he asked.

  “Yes. How could it hurt?”

  “You’d let me screw you again if I was a good guy?”

  “You did already, but whatever, be difficult. How about we forget I said anything,” she said, exasperated and starting to get irritated too.

  “It’s forgotten,” he said, standing up.

  “It certainly wouldn’t hurt to allow me to get to know you better if you want me to consider hanging out with you again,” she added.

  He watched her for a second, looking down at her, considering.

  “The first time, in the clubhouse…hell, even last week in my truck, you really didn’t know me at all. But that’s beside the point, and as much as I would like that, you shouldn’t have any illusions about me. I’m a small-town dude who brews beer in his backyard and makes his living selling it. I never even went to college. That’s the sum total of B.L. Cooper. I’m not some do-gooder out to save the world, so don’t go reading anything into something that’s not there.”

  “I’ve seen otherwise,” she said.

  He shook his head like he was disappointed in her. “Fine, Professor. You think you know me,” he said, and smiled at her, a little menacing this time. “So you’ll think about it?”

  “Think about what?” she asked, standing up now, facing him.

  “Hanging out with me for the summer?” he said.

  “Maybe.”

  “But only if you deem me what?” he said, and dropped all traces of the smile. His demeanor had moved to serious. “Giving away my money does it for you, then? You’re a different kind of gold digger, I guess. You prefer men who give their money away, like some Robin Hood. It’s a little kinky, but whatever gets you off, and if it’s like that, then we’re back to square one. Do I need to be something other than what I am?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t believe you,” he said, looking at her like he’d done that night in his gator when he’d accused her of pursuing her aunt’s money.

  “You are a special kind of dick. Do you know that? And I bet you think you’re slick, turning this around on me,” she said.

  He was silent for a second or two, and surprised was a mild word for how he felt about her response. He laughed then, a loud bark of sound. She was no pushover, the professor. The anger that had come from out of nowhere dissipated just as quickly, replaced by this overwhelming desire to lay the professor bare and consume her—right here, right now. He took in a breath of air, anything to distract him from this fierce urgency to bend her over the porch railing.

  “You coming in?” he asked instead, a small smile on his face.

  “Short-fused and crazy, add that to your list of qualities, why don’t you?” she said, eyeing him like he’d suddenly grown two heads. His smile widened, but he didn’t say a word, just stared at her with some serious heat in his eyes. She cleared her throat.

  “No, not tonight, crazy man. I’ve got to finish my mobile-home search,” she said.

  He smiled, opened the screen door, and stepped inside.

  Thirteen

  He didn’t take in a minute of the show tonight; his mind was nowhere near the TV. He’d left it sitting on the porch beside Kendall. All he could think about was her body in various poses, all nude of course, and he’d have to do better at controlling his temper, or he’d never have the opportunity to have her again. “You’re a special kind of dick,” she’d said. He laughed out loud again, intrigued by the woman who thought to stand up to him, caught off guard too. All that teasing at the pub was so enticing and sexy as hell, and he loved the way she challenged him. He was so ready for more.

  Myra looked over at him, like he was losing his mental faculties, and maybe he was. He’d taken to watching the professor whenever he could now. He hoped he wasn’t too obvious, but he watched her as she followed Myra around, helping her aunt. She was so very different from Celeste, so different from the many other women he’d dated. Anyway, the professor’s helpfulness was attractive, or maybe he was just thinking with his other head, which hadn’t let him rest since he’d tasted her in the trailer and in the backseat of his truck. He wanted the professor again so badly he could taste it.

  No more getting angry, it said again, you will not screw this up for us. You are going to apologize to her again tonight before you leave. He chuckled again.

  “You alright, Cooper?” Myra asked.

  “I am,” he said, smiling. If he wasn’t now, he would be soon.

  #

  Kendall stood up, stretching her legs. She’d found a few mobile homes nearby, and she was going to drag Myra to the mobile-home park to check them out, maybe even as early as tomorrow. She stood on the front porch, thinking about him, of course, and his response to her questions. So defensive and touchy when it came to money. Yes, she understood his reasoning—after all, there were many women like her mother—but still, what a way to live a life, distrusting any and every one.

  Well, he didn’t have to worry about her, she wanted to tell him; no way would she ever approach him for money. Her fear of being considered a gold digger was strong, so she could never get serious with him. She was only interested in the short term, her new mantra, an attempt to avoid falling for the soft-sided underbelly of Barnabus-the-man.

  She waved to some of her aunt’s neighbors as they moved past, walking, jogging, strolling, surprised at the speed with which she’d made friends here. She was standing next to the porch’s railing when he stepped out an hour later. She looked up, not sure what to expe
ct. She watched him walk over to stand beside her, placing his hands on the porch rail alongside hers.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For?” she asked, surprised by his apology.

  “For accusing you again.”

  “Apology accepted. Not everyone is after you or your money, you know. You really need to find a way to put whatever happened behind you,” she said. He didn’t say anything in response to that. “You and Myra enjoy your show?” she asked, changing the subject, hoping to put them back on better footing.

  “I did,” he said.

  “I do have one more question for you, one that I really do need you to answer. It’s something I should have asked you earlier. You ready for it?” she asked, her chin up, all confrontation, as she gazed into his eyes.

  “I am,” he said, smiling to himself. All pluck was the professor.

  “You will take care of Myra, and you won’t allow her to grow old destitute? You will take care of her?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, moving his hands to her waist, pulling her toward him.

  “See, that wasn’t so bad,” she said, smiling at him, her gaze clear of its earlier irritation.

  He placed his mouth on hers and moved one hand behind her head, using it to hold her softly to him. She opened her mouth to him, and their tongues played together for few seconds.

  “What was that for?” she asked when he released her.

  “Second chances, I guess, and another apology. I always seem to be making them with you. I’ve been watching you, and I think I just might like you,” he said, then kissed her again.

  “For more than sex you mean?” she asked. He smiled and chuckled against her lips.

  “Maybe, but sex would be a great start. Seriously, you should consider it. We are missing out on so much,” he said, and they both laughed.

  “Well, I’ve been watching you, and I just might like you too, but only a little bit. You’re too easily riled and way too touchy,” she said, smiling at how that sounded.

  “I am easily riled,” he said, and they both gave in to their laughter for a minute.

  He smiled, kissed her again, and moved away from her, heading down the porch steps and to his truck. He waved before he pulled away, his thoughts back on the porch with her.

  Tonight she’d wanted to make sure her aunt was taken care of. That’s what her questioning had been about. She was not after his money, and why did he continue to find that so difficult to believe? He had no answer to that question except maybe the hurt that had come from knowing someone who was close to him, someone who he’d thought loved him, had really just seen him as a meal ticket, a wallet. He was glad he could at least put her mind at ease about Myra. He believed Kendall’s interest in her aunt was sincere. Of course, he would take care of the woman who was like a mother to him.

  The rest of her questions about his business were off-limits to her or anyone other than Myra. Only Myra was privy to the knowledge of what he did with his money, and he intended to keep it that way. He’d learned to keep his business dealings private. What he did or didn’t do with his money wasn’t up for public consumption, and that wasn’t changing.

  #

  Thursday evening

  Cooper’s arms were full, four grocery bags full. He’d picked up a few thing on the way home and was currently making his way to his front door. He tripped on an odd brick in the path, one he usually remembered to sidestep. He fortunately caught himself before he fell, but not before he lost his bags and their contents. He had Kendall on the brain. He’d started to view this mental takeover of his body as his new mental illness.

  He stood up, laughing at himself, then at his tomatoes and grapes as they rolled round in the middle of his drive.

  “Are you okay?” he heard someone say, and he turned so quick at the sound, he almost tripped again.

  “Celeste,” he said.

  “I saw you trip, and I wanted to make sure you were alright. You lost your bags. I can help,” she said, and bent down and started to pick up the fruit that had escaped from one of them.

  “You don’t need to do that. I’ve got it,” he said, picking up his groceries alongside her.

  “I don’t mind,” she said.

  “I do. Really, I’ve got this,” he said, maybe a little more harshly than he would have liked. Things always came out harsher than he intended with her. But hell, she had to stop showing up from out of nowhere like she been watching…waiting. What the hell? he thought, looking at her. He’d hurt her feelings again, he could tell from the expression on her face.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound so…”

  “Mean,” she said.

  “I’m sorry. What I meant to say was that I’m fine,” he said.

  “Okay, then,” she said, and he could tell she was still hurt—or hell, she could just be pretending to be hurt. Celeste used to be quite the actress. He waited until she turned to leave, then watched her cross the street to make sure she was gone before he picked up his bags and headed inside.

  #

  Friday

  “Do you see where any of my balls went?” Luis asked.

  Cooper was sitting next to him on a golf cart next to the fairway on hole seventeen. Cooper knew where his ball had landed. It was Luis’s balls that always required a search-and-rescue team.

  “Not that I can see,” he said, looking around. “How many balls did you hit anyway?” Cooper asked, laughing at his friend’s usual predicament.

  “I’ll just play the one in the sand trap,” he said, ignoring Coop’s question. Neither of them moved from their seats.

  “Celeste?”

  “Working mostly. She’s turned into a hard worker, and who knew she had it in herself to work so hard. She didn’t used to. She’s also creeping me out a bit, though, showing up out of the blue, buying me things. It’s weird,” Cooper said.

  “You could talk to her. Tell her to stop.”

  “Maybe, or I could continue to ignore her and hope she’ll stop on her own,” he said.

  “That might work, but I doubt it. How’s it going with Kendall?” Luis asked.

  “Any day now, she wants me so bad,” Cooper said, smiling.

  “That’s good at least. I knew you could do it if you put your mind to it,” Luis said, pleased.

  “Yeah, but now she thinks I’m some good guy. She thinks she has me all figured out, that Myra’s causes are mine, that I’m financing her efforts to make the town a better place. I help Myra because it’s important to Myra,” he said.

  “And what’s important to Myra is important to Cooper,” Luis said in his singsong voice. “There’s more to it…to you, than that, and you know it, but you never want to talk about it.”

  “And I’m not about to start,” he said.

  Luis was silent.

  “So the professor wants me because she thinks I’m something that I’m not.”

  “Why do you care? You are going to get your second chance. Be happy. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Luis said, chuckling. “Take the money and run, right?”

  “A man of many expressions today, I see,” Cooper said, eyeing his buddy. “You think so?”

  “I do,” Luis said.

  Cooper was quiet. Luis stepped out of the cart, grabbed his wedge, and headed over to the sand trap. Cooper followed suit, reached for his nine iron, then moved to the middle of the fairway. Of course his ball was in the middle of the fairway.

  #

  Kendall stood at the ladies’ tee on hole seventeen, waiting for Barnabus and Luis to vacate the fairway. It was getting dark, and she’d hoped to finish the last few holes, but that was before she’d run into Cooper and Luis, and whereas Cooper might be a scratch player, Luis was nowhere near it. She’d watched them tee off and had stood around for at least ten minutes while they sat in their golf cart, talking like two little schoolgirls. They hadn’t glanced behind them once to see if they were holding up anyone’s play. Now they were finally moving their butts over
to the fairway to continue their game.

  She continued to watch as Luis tried to extricate himself from that sand trap, taking three shots before landing safely to the left of the fairway, and then two more shots before he landed near the edge of the green. Aye-yai-yai, she thought. This was a par four, for Christ’s sake.

  Of course she could always ask to play through, but she was reluctant to call attention to herself; if she got too close, Barnabus just might pick up on her need. Two weeks of his hard press had overloaded her senses. She had it so bad.

  She chuckled at the many beers she’d sniffed, turned away, then sent back, giving one excuse after another for what was wrong with them. He’d played along, and she’d enjoyed the effort he’d put forth. Add that to last night, when he’d apologized and kissed her so softly, so thoughtfully, and, well, he only had to ask again, and she was all in. And really, why waste the summer; he was here and so was she, and they were so good together.

  They were done finally. Barnabus and Luis were headed to their cart, and drove over to the green. She should wait, but she was quite tired of waiting, and she wanted to remind them that they were not alone. She placed her ball on the tee and swung.

  “Fore,” she yelled. Cooper must have heard the zing of it passing. His head snapped back. She laughed ’cause he had kind of ducked, like it had startled him. You are sick, she thought. They weren’t in any danger.

  She walked back to her cart and drove down to the fairway where her ball had landed, pulling up next to Cooper and Luis, who were waiting at the cart, apparently for her.

  “Professor,” Cooper said, walking toward her. “You could have yelled fore a little sooner. You might have hurt someone,” he said, standing alongside her cart, looking down at her, wearing his best cop-stopping-a-speeding-person impersonation.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked, sitting back in her cart, enjoying, as always, the pleasure of just looking at him.

  “If you’re looking to hurt me, I’m free this evening. I’d be happy to show you all the ways I like to be hurt,” he said, and she chuckled before she caught herself.

  “You so want to,” he said, smiling down into her eyes.