No, it wasn’t a cruel joke the universe was playing on her; she wasn’t even hallucinating—she was, apparently, alive and well and standing in the middle of a bowling alley. This, of course, after the scenic route through town, which included a drive-by of the smelting plant, the new Super Wal-Mart, and the town square, where Christmas decorations were still hanging. “They save money that way,” Bob informed her.
But the Rock-n-Bowl was the town’s crowning glory. The moment Bob opened the tinted glass doors, a rush of air smelling like stale smoke and popcorn permeated her brain; and the sound of balls and pins so loud she could hardly hear Bob tell her to get her shoes. It took a moment for that to sink in, the hilarious notion that he actually expected her to bowl. She started to shake her head, but felt Jake’s hand on the small of her back pushing her forward, to the counter.
“Tell them what size,” he said gruffly. “Remember, when in Rome . . .”
Rome, hell! Too stunned to even think, Robin muttered her shoe size. The man put a pair of red-and-purple bowling shoes on the counter, then red-and-green ones for Jake, which he promptly picked up. “And smile. Sop looking so damned horrified.”
But she was horrified. She had expected to breeze into town, have a short but intense discussion with Eldagirt—who had yet to make an appearance, by the way—and be home in time for cocktails with Cecilia in River Oaks. Not once, astonishingly enough, had the thought of bowling crossed her mind. Worse, Jake seemed completely unfazed by it, and much, much worse, looked as if he was actually excited by the prospect.
He nudged her with his elbow to follow Bob. “Lookit, you’re going to piss everyone off if you keep looking so miserable,” he muttered low.
What about her? What if she was a little pissed off about this sudden turn of events?
“Now come on, Robin. This is Burdette and it’s Saturday,” he reminded her.
“You cannot be serious,” she whispered hotly as they descended into the lane area. “You cannot possibly think that it is all right to do business like this!”
“Why not? It’s just one step removed from doing business on the golf course.”
Ahead of them, Bob stopped at a plastic picnic table bolted to the floor. Around it, three women were seated.
“It is fifteen golf carts and five thousand caddies away from doing business on a golf course!” Robin said testily and stopped behind Bob, plastering a smile on her face. The three women, all in plus sizes, gave Robin a cool once-over as Bob explained she was the person Girt was expecting. But their eyeballs pretty much bulged two Torn-and-Jerry feet out of their sockets when Bob introduced Jake.
“Ladies,” Jake said with a smile, “I hope you don’t mind if we crash your game.”
“Honey, you can crash whatever you want,” one said, and they all laughed.
Bob lackadaisically motioned to the women. “This is Sylvia and Sue, and that’s Reba.”
“As in McIntyre,” Reba said, putting a pudgy hand to her hair.
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Jake, and this is Robin.”
Not one of them took their eyes from Jake. Sue dragged long on a cigarette she held between two sausage-like fingers, eyeballing him up and down. “Are you gonna bowl?”
“If you don’t mind letting a hack join.”
“We don’t mind!” Sue and Reba chimed at the exact same time.
“Where’s Girt?” Bob asked.
Sylvia barely spared him a glance. “Running late. David’s not feeling well today, I guess. But she said to get started without her.”
“Y’all better go on ahead. I imagine Girt’s gonna need some help,” Bob said and turned and walked away, leaving Robin and Jake with the three Humpty-Dumptys.
“I’ll find a ball,” Jake offered, shedding his jacket, and walked to racks of bowling balls.
The three women managed to drag their gaze from Jake’s butt to Robin and eyed her curiously. “What’d you say your name was?”
“Robin.”
They all waited for Jake to come back.
He was back in a jiffy, plopping himself down next to Sue with a devastating smile, which charmed the skintight, butterfly-appliqued stretch pants right off of her. She giggled at something he said about the shoes, and turned red as a beet when he declared that he couldn’t possibly hope to beat someone who came with her own bowling shirt. Sylvia and Reba were drooling, too. Well, at least she shared one thing in common with these women, Robin thought—they all thought Jake was a hunk. And when the hunk had finished changing shoes, he stood up, announced his intention to help Robin find a ball, grabbed her by the elbow, and marched her forward.
When they were out of earshot of the women, he said, “All right, it is definitely time to get over yourself. Are you going to be miserable all afternoon, or are you at least going to attempt to hide your loathing?”