You've Been Volunteered

by Laurie Gelman

  We then went to meet the competitors. Miraculously, Max’s voice came back to him and he spent the next fifteen minutes discussing the challenges of the course with them. It sounded like gibberish to me—I mean, is there really something called a Daytona Beach wing nut? Since this was a new season of the show, Max didn’t know any of the athletes, but it didn’t seem to matter. He took pictures with all of them—even the girls!—and wished them luck.

  Luke said the taping was going to start soon and took us all to our seats. Front row center, of course. I could seriously get used to this. Max went up to the booth to spend the first part of the show with his new buddies, and the adults were left to fend for themselves. I had to admit I was having a good time. I mean, I couldn’t imagine any other circumstance under which I would actually choose to be there, but my boy was happy, the weather was nice, it was relatively interesting, and Janine had just handed me a glass of wine!

  “How does everyone know Rolly?” I asked her.

  She shrugged. “He supplies the merch.” I’m assuming she meant the merchandise. A bag of it was delivered to our hotel room this morning.

  “So that’s why we’re all getting the VIP treatment.”

  “Well, that and the fact that he bought a VIP experience at a charity auction we went to a few months ago. He couldn’t wait to have you guys come and enjoy it.”

  “He did that for Max?”

  “For you.” She punctuated her answer by pointing at me.

  I honestly didn’t know how to respond to that, and thankfully I didn’t have to, because the taping had started. I looked to see if Ron had been listening, but he was talking to Steve from the limo.

  The show itself was loud and crazy and exciting. Seeing people give their all, in feats of unimaginable physical difficulty, only to be denied victory by something called the Psycho Chainsaw, was truly heart-stopping. Only four guys made it to the end; the rest took a bath, literally, falling into the pool below the obstacle course. Max, who spent the second half of the show sitting between Ron and me, seemed to feel every victory and every defeat as deeply as the athletes. When the show finally ended (three hours to tape a one-hour show!) he turned to us with tears in his eyes.

  “Thank you so much for bringing me here,” he choked out. “This is the best day of my life.” Then he hugged us and buried his head in my chest like he used to when he was little.

  “Thank Mr. Schrader too, buddy.” Ron cleared his throat and I could tell he was choked up, too.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” Janine effectively broke the sentiment of the moment. “I’m starving. Where’s that babysitter?”

  Cassie had spent most of the show backstage, talking to the competitors and taking notes on their training regimens. I thought about telling her I had trained for a mud run a couple of years ago, but it would have been like telling a chef training at the Cordon Bleu that I once made toaster strudel.

  “Steve is going to take Max and Cassie back to the hotel in a taxi and the rest of us will take the limo to Caesars,” Rolly announced to our group, and we reluctantly parted from our son on the happiest day of his life.

  Once in the limo, Janine popped the cork on a bottle of Veuve Clicquot for the ten-minute drive up Frank Sinatra Boulevard to Caesars Palace and our reservation at Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant Hell’s Kitchen. “Now the fun begins,” she exclaimed, and I kind of felt sorry for her. I’d been having fun for hours.

  Caesars Palace resides, in my opinion, at the corner of elegant and tacky. Think Donald Trump’s house and, well, Donald Trump. Fifty years ago, Caesars was the crown jewel of Las Vegas—the opulence was stupefying and you just had to see it to believe it. These days the one-upmanship between hoteliers in Sin City is so fierce that Caesars looks not so much amazing as average and a little dated.

  Hell’s Kitchen has pride of place at the front of the hotel and looks like a larger version of the set the TV show is shot on. Lots of red and blue, big glass windows, and not one but two chef’s tables. I thought for sure we would be led to one of them, because that’s just how Rolly rolls. But we were escorted to a corner table by the window with a view of the Strip.

  As we settled into our seats, I grabbed Rolly’s arm.

  “I don’t know how we can ever thank you enough for today. You made our son the happiest kid in the world.”

  “It was my pleasure.” He beamed and firmly placed his hand over mine.

  “And Janine told me you bought the VIP experience at an auction? Why didn’t you take your grandkids?”

  “Believe it or not, none of them are big fans. And I knew Max was from the first time we all had dinner and you told me about his Halloween costume.”

  “Well, it meant the world to us.” I pulled my hand away and turned to Ron. “Didn’t it, sweetie?”

  “It really did.” He was looking at Rolly’s hand and mine.

  “You owe us big-time!” Janine laughed and signaled the waiter to come over.

  “Can we have a bottle of the Cakebread chardonnay?” Turning back to us, she clapped her hands together and said, “Can we talk about that show?”

  We spent the next couple of hours laughing over some of the epic falls from the show and sharing gambling war stories, most of which came from Rolly. The food was delicious and, as always, we were having a great time. I did get weird vibes from this couple every now and then, but for the most part they were a blast.

  After the second bottle of wine, Janine took my hand in one of hers, Ron’s in the other, and made what was most definitely an alcohol-induced declaration.

  “We really love you guys.”

  I didn’t want to leave Rolly out of the admiration circle, so I grabbed his hand. Ron said, “The feeling’s mutual.”

  Janine grinned and raised an eyebrow to her husband. “We also think you are, like, the hottest couple we know.”

  “Sorry?” I was sure I had heard that wrong.

  “You’re hot! You’re both really attractive.”

  I didn’t respond to this, but I guess Ron felt the need to say something.

  “Well, you guys are great-looking, too.”

  For your age, I finished for him in my head.

  Janine grinned at her husband.

  “See, Rolly? I told you.”

  Rolly was an almost purple shade of red at this point and I’m not sure whether it was because of the alcohol or this conversation. Janine continued.

  “So, what are we going to do about it, we four attractive people?”

  “Let’s get a picture!” Ron suggested, holding up his phone.

  “Great idea!” Janine enthused and jumped up to move closer to my husband. “Jen, why don’t you just squeeze in on Rolly’s lap?”

  I took her suggestion, but as we posed for the waiter—Janine wrapped around Ron like a boa constrictor, and me on Rolly’s lap—I got a very strong Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice vibe, and not in an “Oh, I love that movie!” way. It was more like “Holy shit, are we being propositioned?” I jumped off Rolly’s lap the second the waiter took the shot and grabbed for my water.

  Janine uncoiled herself from my husband and signaled for the check.

  “Shall we move this party back to our hotel room?”

  This did not sound like a good idea to me, and I was trying to figure out a polite way to say so.

  “Are you okay?” I thought Ron was talking to me, but when I looked up, his eyes were on Rolly, who was half leaning on the table and shaking his head. He looked like he was trying to breathe. Ron was at his side in an instant.

  “Oh my God, Rolly!” Janine cried out.

  “Jen, call 911.” Ron laid Rolly on the floor of the restaurant and loosened his collar. As I reached for my phone, our waiter told me someone was already calling.

  I always knew Ron was a good guy to have around in an emergency, but he blew me away with his calm control over the situation. He had already started CPR when the paramedics arrived four minutes later (response time note
d!), and they took over. I had my arm around Janine and we watched along with everyone else in the restaurant as they worked on the man whose lap I had been sitting on five minutes ago. Is that what gave him the heart attack?

  I called Cassie and told her what had happened. She assured me she could stay as long as we needed her.

  Janine went in the ambulance with Rolly, and Ron and I followed in a cab to University Medical Center. By the time we got there and found Janine, Rolly was stable, but the doctor was still examining him.

  “He may need an angioplasty,” Janine told us through tears. “My dad had one and he was fine.” The word “fine” was almost lost in a fresh round of sobs. I hugged her and led her to a chair in the waiting room while Ron went to get us water.

  This may sound glib, but if you want to do some serious people-watching, hang out in a Vegas ER for a couple of hours. After Janine went to sit with Rolly, Ron and I had front-row seats to quite a procession of misfits and weirdos walking through the door with either drug- or alcohol-related injuries or bizarre objects inserted where they shouldn’t be. That’s not to say UMC doesn’t see its share of major emergencies like gunshot wounds, car accidents, heart attacks, and strokes, but in the few hours we were there the most serious thing I saw was a very drunk college kid with a $25 poker chip stuck in his nose.

  I was still trying to process what had happened that evening prior to Rolly’s heart attack. I was stone cold sober by then and thinking about whether Janine’s remarks about how “hot we are” and “taking it back to their hotel room” still had the same salacious undertone, and you know what? They did. No matter how you sliced it, there had been a proposition on the table that night, and it wasn’t the one Ron had been hoping for.

  He was sitting beside me, leaning back with his eyes closed, so I nudged him awake.

  “Hmm? What? Any news?” He kept his eyes closed.

  “No, but we never talked about what happened tonight.”

  “What do you mean?” He cracked one eye open to look at me.

  “I mean how Janine propositioned us.”

  Now both his eyes were open. “What? No, she didn’t!”

  “Uh, yes she did.” I was keeping my voice to a whisper.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “No. I was drunk, but now I’m not and I know what I heard.”

  “Which was what exactly?” I couldn’t believe he was asking me this.

  “She told us how hot we were and asked us to go back to their hotel room.”

  He was fully awake now and looking at me like I was insane. “They told us how much they enjoyed us and suggested we all go back to our hotel. To go to sleep.”

  We stared at each other, and then Ron hit me with a curveball.

  “You were the one flirting with Rolly all night. Taking his hand, sitting in his lap, and laughing at everything that came out of his mouth.” He didn’t sound angry, just matter-of-fact. “I figured you were trying to help me close the deal.”

  I was stunned. I started to argue, but he hadn’t said one thing that wasn’t true. I had taken Rolly’s hand and laughed at all his jokes and even sat in his lap. Holy crap. Was that what it looked like to the Schraders, too? I was so confused.

  Ron had closed his eyes again, so I decided to check my email on his phone. I hadn’t done it since we got here, and my iPhone still hadn’t shown up. I was alarmed to see emails from almost every parent in Max’s class. Shit! Something must have happened. Every subject line read “I love you guys…” What the heck?

  Ravi’s was the first one I’d received, so I clicked on it and then scrolled up to see what the original message said. You can imagine how thrilled I was to see that it was none other than me myself and I who had professed my love for Mrs. Randazzo’s class at 2:20 a.m. Vegas time two nights earlier and then proceeded to overshare every piece of personal information in my life. It was like reading something someone else had written and being embarrassed for them. I started in on the responses.

  * * *

  To: JDixon

  From: RBrown

  Re: I love you guys …

  Date: 3/19

  Jen,

  Did you mean to send this? Are you all right?

  Ravi

  * * *

  To: JDixon

  From: CAlexander

  Re: I love you guys …

  Date: 3/19

  Hey Jen,

  Well, someone’s having a good time in Vegas! I’ll have what you’re having!

  Love,

  Carol

  * * *

  To: JDixon

  From: AChang

  Re: I love you guys …

  Date: 3/19

  Jennifer,

  What does this mean? What baby? Is Laura pregnant? Please explain yourself when you sober up.

  Asami

  * * *

  To: JDixon

  From: PTucci

  Re: I love you guys …

  Date: 3/19

  Jen,

  Holy shit! Did you send this to everyone? Are you okay? I’m going to call you.

  Xo P

  * * *

  And of course, I still didn’t have my phone, so I never got that call.

  * * *

  To: JDixon

  From: SCobb

  Re: I love you guys …

  Date: 3/19

  Jennifer

  Still celebrating St. Patrick’s Day are you?

  There’s no shame in clipping coupons! I do it all the time and it saves us tons of money.

  Shirleen

  * * *

  The rest were pretty much the same … except for one.

  * * *

  To: JDixon

  From: JJAikins

  Re: I love you guys …

  Date: 3/17

  How DARE you single me out in your email! Everyone has been doing fun class birthday party things. The petting zoo was a big hit with the kids. BTW, animals poop, that’s what they do.

  JJ

  * * *

  I started out mortified, but by the time I finished reading the responses all I could do was laugh. No email from Sylvie Pike, so she hadn’t seen it yet. I anticipated a big powwow when she did.

  Janine came out to let us know that Rolly was resting comfortably and no immediate surgery was required.

  “But he needs to see his doctor when we get back. Thank God we’re flying home tomorrow.”

  “Today.” It was now 3:30 in the morning.

  “Oh my God, I didn’t even realize. You guys, please go home and get some sleep. You are such good friends to stay this long.”

  “Are you sure?” Ron asked. “We don’t mind hanging around in case you need something.”

  “Positive. Get the hell out of here.” She gave Ron a dramatic hug then pulled me close and whispered, “Remember, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” With that she passionately kissed my cheek and walked back to the patient area.

  I knew it!

  * * *

  Rolly and Janine were gone, as were most of the people from their company retreat—including Cassie and Steve—but Ron and I stayed two more days with Max. We did a lot of the touristy stuff like Madame Tussaud’s and indoor skydiving and spent as much time as we could at the pool.

  My cell phone finally arrived the day before we were leaving. For reasons unknown, Laura had sent it FedEx ground instead of overnight. I was happy to get it until I turned it on and had to endure it buzzing for the next ten minutes with updates and messages.

  As we were waiting for a taxi to take us to the airport, Ron mentioned how glad he was that he’d never gone back to the tables after his big win, even though he really wanted to. He felt good about bringing his winnings home.

  “Oh shit … shoot!” I said with a sideways glance at Max.

  “What?”

  “My mother gave me a hundred dollars to bet at the roulette table. I totally forgot.”

  “Well, it’s too late now.”

  I grabbed the hundred
out of my purse, put my phone in my back pocket, and threw my bags at Ron. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  I dashed through the lobby to the casino and was out of breath by the time I found a roulette table that was active at nine in the morning. No one was playing, so I ran right up, pulled out my mother’s hundred-dollar bill, tossed it on the table, and blurted, “Black twenty-two.”

  Apparently this is not standard protocol at the roulette table, if you can believe it. I got the stink eye from the croupier and the pit boss walked over with a security guard to see what the hell was going on.

  “Please settle down, ma’am.”

  “I’m sorry! I have to make this bet. And my cab is waiting.”

  “Maybe you should just get in your cab, miss,” the pit boss—who bore a striking resemblance to Vin Diesel—strongly suggested.

  I realized I probably looked like a crazy person and was getting myself into trouble. The last place I wanted to end up was as someone’s bitch in casino jail, so I took a breath and tried to act normal.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just my mother, who is a cancer survivor”—oh yes, I did play that card—“asked me to place this bet for her while I was here, and I completely forgot until right this minute and our cab is waiting to take us to the airport, but I just need to place this bet because I promised her. Please, I’m not some nutty gambler.”

  The croupier looked at Vin Diesel, who gave a slight nod. The dealer then turned to me.

  “Do you want to bet the whole hundred?”

  I sighed with relief. “Yes, please, on black 22.”

  She gave me two $50 chips, which I put on the 22 square; then she spun the wheel and dropped the little white ball.

  I immediately felt relief. At least I’d done what I promised. My phone rang.