Chapter Thirteen
Joanna, Scott, and Catherine sat in the sail club’s dark, square room, smoke swirling above their heads. A plastic swordfish, blood-red crab, and long-armed stingray were snared in a fisherman’s net strung up on the far wall. There was a Day-Glo mural of a giant squid next to the nets, the squid’s tentacles outstretched wide. Across the bar sat a stringy-haired woman in a faded green tank top that showed off her wrinkled, sun-spotted décolletage.
A large, fleshy-armed man plopped on the stool next to Catherine. He had frizzy gray hair, kind eyes, and a massive beard that looked like a series of gray crayon scribbles. His gray flannel shirt was enormous, and he wore Teva flip-flops with his jeans. “This is Robert,” Catherine said, gesturing to him. “You should hear his voice. He could get a record contract.”
“Nice to meetcha,” Robert said, reaching out his hand. He had a deep, James Earl Jones voice.
Joanna shook hands, barely feeling his skin. Robert held a pitcher of beer in his left hand, seemingly ordered all for himself. “Well, I’ll be back later,” he said. “You probably have lots to catch up on.”
Then he waddled away toward the octopus mural. Catherine watched him go, patting her hair. “Robert is modest, but he really does sound just like Tom Petty. It’s quite a sight to see.”
Joanna tried to smile, though she felt uncomfortable and embarrassed. When her mother pulled into the parking lot of this place, Joanna had thought it was a joke. SAIL CLUB, said the squat, windowless building. It was next to a burrito shack called Viva La Mexico! There was a line of Harleys parked crookedly by the door and a piece of paper posted over the handicapped parking sign that said, SHOES MUST BE WORN AT ALL TIMES. The sign said nothing about shirts.
Inside the close, yeasty-smelling room was a small stage at the front of the bar meant for karaoke. Catherine had marched up to the bar and greeted the sinewy bartender with a big kiss, and a Tom Collins had appeared before her. To say Joanna had been aghast was an understatement. Where was the dockside country club? Where were the aloof men in yachter’s caps? Where were the international glitterati? People stood at the pinball machine and dartboard without irony. In the hall to the bathroom was an old cigarette machine, the kind where one had to insert quarters and pull a knob. Joanna wanted to ask her mother why she frequented a place like this, a place so unexpected for her, but she didn’t know how to phrase such a question. Maybe her mom did have something wrong with her—a brain tumor.
A petite girl in a denim miniskirt was belting out the chorus to Like a Virgin. She pranced up and down the narrow bar area, her limbs wobbly and loose. Scott watched her, sipping his Guinness. “She’s good.”
“Oh, I know,” Catherine said. “She sings all the time.”
“What do you say?” Scott looked at them. “Should we sing something?”
“You sing?” Catherine cried. “I bet you’re good. Joanna and I will sing backup.”
Scott thought for a moment. “I’ll sign us up for something.” He winked at them and slid off the stool, strutting to the front of the bar to signal the karaoke MC, who doubled as the bartender. Several women turned and watched Scott walk the length of the bar. Joanna’s mother set down her drink and breathed in.
“He looks very handsome today,” Catherine remarked. “That was nice of him to come while Charles is away.”
Joanna could feel her mother’s eyes on her, waiting. When they’d arrived at Catherine’s house a few hours earlier, her mother had done a double take in surprise. “Scott, isn’t it?” she’d asked, as if she didn’t know precisely who he was.
“You haven’t forgotten me?” Scott bantered.
“Of course not, of course not,” Catherine said, ushering him in. “You look wonderful, darling.” She turned to Joanna, beaming with curiosity.
“Charles is out of town,” Joanna had explained quickly, loudly. “He had an important writing assignment that came up unexpectedly. Scott was nice enough to keep me company.”
Scott glanced at her, startled, but for once he had the good sense not to say anything.