A Gambler's Jury

by Victor Methos

  I contemplated heading back to the office, then I remembered the cluster I had waiting for me back home.

  “What did you do?” Hernando asked.

  “Just got lucky. No more booze. I’m serious. Especially in Magna. It went our way this time, but Borth could’ve easily taken his wrath out on you.”

  “No more, man. I swear.”

  We shook hands and I headed to my car, wondering if Will hated me yet.

  21

  When I got home, I heard laughter. I rounded the corner and saw Will at the dinner table, or what passed for my dinner table, playing cards with Teddy. He would throw down a card and Teddy would squeal and clap his hands.

  “Danielle!” Teddy said. “He knows how to do magic.”

  “Does he? And where did we learn magic?”

  “I wanted to be a magician when I was a kid. No joke. I went to a magic school and everything. My mom was the one that was really pushing me to pursue it.”

  “What happened?”

  “I mean, you know she died when I was . . . I think twelve. And I had to go back and live with my dad who didn’t want me and didn’t give a shit about anything I was interested in. He got remarried and that was that. He wouldn’t pay for the lessons anymore.” He shuffled the deck with one hand. “Still kinda regret it. I think I would’ve made one helluva magician.”

  I turned to Teddy. “You have fun with him?”

  “He does magic,” he said with a laugh.

  I smiled at Will, and he rose and said, “It was very nice meeting you, Teddy.”

  “No, do more magic. One more. Please!”

  “I think Danielle can handle more magic tricks. I have to get back to work.” He looked at me. “Some of us actually have to work.”

  “Ouch. Careful with that poison tongue, you devil you.”

  I walked him out. At the front door I said, “I really appreciate this.”

  “It was actually fun. He’s a great kid. Did you find somewhere for him?”

  “Haven’t heard from Kelly yet. I’m sure we’ll have somewhere for him by tonight.”

  He shook his head. “Hard to believe his parents would do that. You take good care of him, Dani.”

  He walked to his car, and I watched the entire time. At the car door, he turned and looked at me and a grin came across his face. I wondered, briefly, what life would’ve been like being married to a man like him instead of Stefan. Will was spontaneous and fun. One time, he picked me up at five in the morning on a motorcycle he had rented and took us skydiving. Another time we were at a waterfall and he jumped in, dressed fully in a suit, because it looked too good to resist. Stefan was the opposite. He was intellectual and had to have everything planned to the last detail. In hindsight, that didn’t seem like any way to live.

  When he was gone, I turned and saw Teddy mumbling to himself as he tried to do magic tricks, getting frustrated and groaning. I took out my phone and texted Kelly.

  Any news yet on homes that would take him?

  Nothing yet.

  Did you find any other relatives who might?

  None. Will said Riley has one sister, who didn’t want anything to do with Teddy.

  Well, that meant I had another day to kill with him, at least. I googled the day’s events in Salt Lake and found that the Salt Lake Bees, a minor league team, were playing at four.

  “You ever been to a baseball game, buddy?”

  “I can’t do magic, Dani. I can’t do it.” He had grown emotional, to the point that I thought he might cry.

  I approached the table and sat down next to him. “It’s okay, you just gotta keep practicing.”

  “No, no, I can’t do it.”

  “Here, let me show you.” I picked up the cards and said, “Tell me when to stop.” I flipped through the entire deck. “No, Teddy, you have to tell me when to stop.”

  “Stop.”

  “Well, wait until I’m flipping through the deck.”

  I flipped through and he shouted “Stop!” like he was trying to halt an oncoming car. I showed him the card, a two of diamonds.

  “Now watch. I give you this card, but I peeked at it when I stopped. See? Watch, here’s the move.” I showed it to him again, a quick glance downward. His brow furrowed and I showed it to him again.

  “But that’s not magic,” he finally said.

  I put the cards down. “Let’s grab something to eat. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, I’d like my French toast.”

  “What French toast?”

  “We have French toast for lunch with maple syrup.”

  “For lunch? All right, who am I to judge? French toast it is.”

  The first thing I noticed about taking Teddy out were the stares. It seemed as though every person needed to catch a look. Most of them weren’t malicious—just people curious about him. A few even gave him warm smiles as we walked into Feeders Bakery.

  We ordered French toast for him and a coffee and donut for me. Teddy and I sat down at an open table by the window. Then again, most tables were open since Feeders specialized in breakfast and closed at one.

  He immediately took out the sugar packets and the small containers of jelly and began to stack them into little houses. The houses were perfectly symmetrical, one identical to the next. When he ran out of packets, he borrowed some from the table next to us.

  “You like building things?”

  “Yeah, I used to play with Legos, see. With my Uncle Roger. He would buy me Legos and we would play with them, see.”

  “Oh, yeah? Is Roger your dad’s brother?”

  “No, Uncle Roger. He lived next to us. But he went to heaven.”

  He said it with a certainty that I was sure no saint had ever possessed. He absolutely knew that when death came, it was only to transport people to paradise. I felt sorry for him and envied him at the same time. I had no belief in anything other than random chance. Life had begun on this little backwater planet by accident, and its inhabitants struggled to make sense of it all. I wished I could believe the way Teddy believed. It would give meaning to all this muck.

  A man came out of the back and spoke to the cashier. He looked over and smiled, and then he saw Teddy and his smile went away. His name tag said: “Billy—Owner.” I’d never seen the owner of a business put “Owner” on a name tag.

  Billy was a middle-aged man with slicked-back thinning hair and a paunch. He shook his head, and said something about “retards.” We were close enough that I heard the word clearly and knew I wasn’t mistaken.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “did you say something?”

  He looked at me. “Nothing.”

  “No, you said something, don’t back down now. What was it?”

  “Nothing,” he said again. “Just . . . you know, I’m sick of all these special privileges, that’s all. I mean, I’m sure you can relate. I think the government should just stay out of personal business.”

  “I’m not sure what that has to do with you insulting my friend here.”

  “Wasn’t an insult. It’s just, like, take the gays . . .”

  “The gays?”

  “Yeah. They whine and bitch so much they finally get what they want, and they use the power of the government to force me to bake for them. You believe that? So, you know, just with retards, and I don’t mean any offense by this, but it’s the same thing. I had to put in a two-thousand-dollar ramp to stay in compliance with the ADA bullshit. Two grand. You believe that?”

  “You had to build a ramp for people who can’t walk . . . wow. You poor thing. How tough your life must be. You had to actually spend some money to help the disabled; how do you go on?”

  “See,” he said, shaking his head again, “this is what I’m talkin’ about. I can’t even talk to you people.”

  “‘You people?—what, rational adults? You want something to complain about? Try switching places with this kid. You wouldn’t last a day, asshole.”

  “Hey, I don’t appreciate that kinda language in my pl
ace.”

  “Yeah, well, we were just leaving anyway. Let’s go Teddy.”

  “I don’t have my French toast.”

  “We’ll go somewhere else and get your toast.”

  “No, I need my toast.”

  I rose and took Teddy by the arm, trying to lift him. “Let’s go, I’ll get it somewhere else.”

  “No.”

  “Teddy, come on.” I pulled on his arm.

  He screamed. Then he began hitting his head with both fists, and I had to grab his arms and hold him down. He was screaming so loudly his face turned red and the veins in his neck popped out. I had to lean on top of him to keep him from pummeling himself. He began to cry.

  “It’s okay,” I kept saying in his ear. “It’s okay, it’s okay, buddy. It’s okay. I’m sorry I grabbed you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  His screams slowly died away, and he breathed heavily as he wept. I looked around the restaurant. Everyone was staring at us, and the owner had a smirk on his face. He pointed to the door. I let go of Teddy and went over to Billy.

  “I’m not leaving without his French toast.”

  “You ain’t getting squat from me, so you both can just leave right now.”

  “Look, dude, you saw what happened. We already paid for it. Just give him his French toast and you’ll never see us again.”

  He pointed his fat finger in my face. “Screw. You. Now get out before I call the cops.”

  Some people just couldn’t be reasoned with. This guy would fit right in with some of the judges in this state.

  “I’ll piss in your baking oven.”

  He chuckled. “What?”

  “You can call the cops, but it’ll take them ten minutes to get here, at least. And I’m a defense attorney—I couldn’t care less about cops. I’ll get fined for this. But after I piss in your oven, my first call is to KSL so they can immediately post the story online. It’ll spread to all the other news sites by the end of the day. Doesn’t matter how much you clean afterward; you’ll always be the place where some crazy chick pissed in your oven. How many of these customers do you think will be digging into their éclairs after they read that?”

  “Get the hell outta here,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  I went behind the glass bakery case and pulled down my pants but not my panties. The oven was in full view of the customers. “If you touch me, I’m gonna mace you and still piss in your oven. You just have to sit there and watch me do this.”

  His face went slack. He stared at me like I had come from some distant planet and was just flapping my tentacles. I reached my thumbs into my panties to pull them down. Some of the customers stood up to get a better look. One had his cell phone out and was recording.

  Billy held up his hand. “Wait.” He turned to the cashier. “Get him his toast.”

  I pulled up my pants and held my head high as I walked back to my table. The few customers in the place scurried away from us, and I sat down and looked at Teddy, who had gone back to making houses.

  “You okay, Teddy?”

  “I used to have Legos.”

  “I’m sorry I grabbed you; that was wrong of me.”

  His brow furrowed a little. “I liked Legos.”

  22

  We sat at Franklin Covey Field later that afternoon. The Bees were playing a team from Philadelphia. I got Teddy a hot dog and a soda and the same for myself. The food was fine and the warm sun soothed my skin. I put my sunglasses on as I watched them warm up, and Teddy clapped whenever one of the players hit the ball. He smiled widely, revealing teeth that were clean but needed braces. No matter how many napkins I gave him, he always had food stuck on his face and shirt.

  “You ever played baseball?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Yeah, Kevin let me play.”

  “Really? Kevin let you play with him?”

  “Yeah, I would hit the ball and they would laugh because they said I was funny.”

  My heart sank. I looked away and out over the players. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and Will appeared behind me.

  “You made it,” I said. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

  “Since when don’t I like baseball? Especially with my new buddy Teddy.”

  Teddy squealed with delight. “More magic, please!”

  “We don’t have any cards, buddy,” I said.

  He went quiet for a few moments, staring out over the field. Then a player hit a ball out to left field, and he squealed again and clapped.

  “So how’s your day been?” Will asked.

  “Great,” I said. “Living the dream.” I took out a cigarette and put it between my lips. Since there were children nearby, I didn’t light it. I glanced at Teddy, who was busy watching a boxelder bug scurry across the cement under his feet. “He told me he’s played baseball before. His neighbor Kevin would play it with him. Teddy said they would laugh because he was funny. I don’t think that’s what they were laughing at.”

  “Kids can be so damn cruel.”

  “Shit—do you live in this world, man? Adults are much crueler.” I paused and took the cigarette out of my mouth. “I lived with this family for a while in a small town where everyone knew everyone. I was like eleven, I think. There was this kid in my neighborhood—I think his name was Sandy or Randy, Andy, something like that. He was disabled. Me and my friends, we would invite him to ride bikes or run around—this was, like, fifth grade. He couldn’t pronounce certain words, so everyone was always telling him to say this or say that. Everyone laughed. I did it, too. Then, just like that, we got bored, and no one invited him out anymore. He’d sit on his porch and watch us, and we would ride by like he didn’t exist.” I watched the field a second. “Hatred isn’t the worst thing you can feel toward a person. It’s indifference.”

  I put the cigarette back in my mouth. Will was staring at me now with his big eyes.

  “What happened to him?” he asked.

  “His family moved, and no one ever saw him again. I remember the next day at school, no one said anything. It was like he hadn’t existed. I thought how weird it was. This was a kid who had grown up next to us, but no one knew he was gone.” I exhaled. “Maybe you’re right; maybe kids are worse.”

  He put his hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze. “Well, I guess I’m not the expert. Gale never wanted to have kids, one of the reasons we divorced actually, and now I think it’s probably too late.”

  “Why didn’t she want kids?”

  “I don’t know. She just was too into herself. When you’re selfish, it’s hard to give yourself over to someone else, even if it is your child. I guess that was the issue with my dad. What about you? Any more kiddos?”

  I shook my head. “I got Jack. My world revolves around him. Wouldn’t be fair to bring a baby into that.” I flicked some piece of lint or something off my pants. “I still can’t believe Stefan is marrying that chick, man,” I said.

  He shrugged. “What can you do? Life moves on without us sometimes. Sometimes it’s worse when two people who should be apart stay together, believe me. You shoulda heard some of the fights me and Gale got into before the divorce.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “I don’t know. Once her alimony was done she took off and that was all she wrote.”

  I looked back over the field. The announcer was bellowing something over the speakers and the players disappeared. Teddy was on his feet, not understanding that they would be back. And then he leaned down and got his soda and took a few large gulps as the announcer kept going on and on about some product they were pushing, some sort of Tupperware.

  Within a few minutes, the players were formally announced, and people started cheering. Teddy was jumping up and down. It put a smile on my face, and Will was smiling, too.

  During the game, Teddy nearly had to be restrained. He kept jumping up with excitement whenever the crowd went wild, and he would boo when they booed. The joy that spilled out of him was contagious and, even though I couldn’t care less about the B
ees, I found myself cheering and yelling profanities at the opposing team’s players. That always got me a soft elbow in my ribs from Will.

  “Where’s Jack?” he asked over the noise of the crowd during the third inning.

  “I texted him and he said he was out with friends. That seems to be his MO these days. More friends and less family.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You did it, and Jack’s kids will do it to him. Then somewhere in your thirties you realize how ephemeral friends are, and you go back to your family. Unless you hate your family, I guess. Or they’re dead.”

  “You’re such a ray of sunshine.”

  He grinned. We held each other’s gaze a second and then cheers erupted again as the batter struck out. Will stood up and yelled, and I turned away from the field and glanced down at my shoes. They were scuffed and stained. When Stefan had been living with me, he shined my shoes. I would tell him I didn’t care, but at night, when I was asleep or out or had drunk myself into oblivion, he would shine them so they would look nice for court in the morning.

  “Danielle!” Teddy squealed. “He caught the ball. Look! He caught the ball!”

  Someone had caught the ball and everyone was going wild.

  I began to cheer for whatever had happened on the field, but only because Teddy was cheering.

  When the game ended, we left the stadium and strolled through the neighborhood. The stadium didn’t have parking of its own, and we had to pay extortionate rates in the neighboring lots or find street parking. Teddy ran ahead of us with a stick in his hand. He poked at fire hydrants and trees and kept himself occupied.

  “Oh, so get this. I went to interview that kid, Freddy. He has the same lawyer Kevin does and I wasn’t allowed to speak with him.”

  “He told me he would talk to you.”

  “Well he must’ve changed his mind. And I wouldn’t count on him telling anybody else that the cops fed him that story. That lawyer’s probably got him scared shitless that if he says anything he’ll be the only one going down.”

  “Shit. Well, it’s set for a preliminary hearing. I’m hoping to get it dismissed then, or afterward when I file a motion challenging jurisdiction.”