“Oh, well, I don’t need to put a slide in,” Katrina interjects. Her head bobs back and forth between Paisley and the twins.
“No. Slides are awesome. Paise doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Shane chimes in. “She’s getting old. She might need a hearing aid soon.”
“Shane Bennett, what are you talking about? I’m not even twenty-three!” Paisley cries. She looks to me for help, but I’m too busy giggling into my napkin.
Oak buries his face in my neck, trying to muffle his gales of laughter. “I love your family,” he says between gasps.
Me, too. Me, too.
After dinner, we all clear the table with Oak muttering something under his breath about how he hasn’t seen his mother lift a plate outside a movie since he was five. But Katrina helps as much as anyone else. Maybe one of her roles has helped her interact, but she comes off as sincere and sweet.
In the garage, Big D finds the ladder game, which he drags out into the backyard.
“What’s your point system?” Big D asks Paisley as he swings the tethered golf ball in his hand.
She shrugs. “One point for the bottom pipe, two for the middle and three for the top.”
Ty frowns. “No. You count how many bolas are left on the steps. Each one is a point.”
“What’s a bola?” Katrina asks nervously beside me. “I’ve never done this before.”
“The bola is the string with the two golf balls on either end,” I explain. “The goal is to get as many of the strings as possible to wrap around the three posts.”
“If we were at your house, you could set the rules, but you’re at mine so we’re keeping score the Bennett way.” Paisley juts out her chin.
“I recognize that look,” Oak says on the opposite side of me. “It’s the look that says we’re doing it this way and no other.” He cups his hands around his mouth. “Give in now, Ty. I can tell you from experience that there’s no point in arguing.”
I turn and punch Oak in the shoulder.
“Ow!” he fake cries. “Don’t damage the goods.”
“Your dad make this?” Big D asks, interrupting before I can punch Oak again.
“Yeah. It’s just PVC pipe.” The simple structure is about five feet high and consists of three rows of pipe on a stand. The goal is to get your two golf balls glued to the ends of a piece of rope, or bolas, wrapped around the pipes.
“And a lot of glue!” Spence adds. The twins exchange high fives.
I grin happily, glad that the memory of them putting the game together is a good one instead of a sad one.
“They were silly on a glue high for a day,” I explain to Oak and his mom.
Ty and Paisley are still arguing about the rules when Big D separates us into teams. We decide it’s going to be the Bennetts against the Fords. Ty plays with us while Big D and Katrina’s bodyguards stand over on the Ford side.
Amanda offers to keep score, the Bennett way.
Halfway into the game, the Bennetts are kicking ass. Ty mutters it’s because we’re cheating.
“You’re on our team, Ty,” Paisley points out.
“It’s no fun winning when you’re cheating,” he grumbles.
“Throw the damn—darn bola,” Oak yells. “You’re holding the game up. You should get penalized for that.”
“See, you’re going to make us lose,” Paisley says, then pulls the bola from Ty’s hand and whips it across the lawn with perfect aim.
The bola knocks off one of Oak’s balls, which means we win again. The twins run around, high-fiving everyone while Paisley and I slap hands. We grew up playing this with our parents. There’s no way the Fords are going to beat us, no matter which way the game is scored.
“Come on, Mom, you got this,” Oak encourages when Kat steps up and swings her bola.
Oak’s behind her, so he doesn’t see her face tighten with emotion and her eyes flutter closed. She shuts her eyes as if to make a perfect mental imprint of this moment. When her son called her Mom, when he cheered for her, when they were in perfect harmony.
“Go, Katrina,” I yell.
“She’s on the other team.” Paisley scowls at me. “Between you and Ty, it’s like you want us to lose.”
I merely grin. I’m too happy to care about the outcome of this game because, as corny as it sounds, the day is a win.
After we defeat Team Ford three times in a row, the twins drag Katrina’s bodyguards inside to show off their gaming rig. Paisley and Ty bicker as they stow away the game. Big D trails behind them. Amanda has disappeared, leaving Oak, his mom and me out on the lawn.
Katrina and I settle into a couple of deck chairs, but Oak decides he’d rather sit on the ground, leaning against my leg.
“How’s everything going?” Katrina asks. The friendliness of the game has burned off a little, showing that the underlying tension between mother and son isn’t going to be erased with one game of ladder golf.
“Good,” Oak replies. He leans his head against the side of my leg, his soft hair rubbing against my bare leg. I reach down and smooth some of the hair out of his eyes. “You?”
She shrugs. “You know how it is. I’m old now so I’m only getting scraps, but there are a few things that interest me.”
“That sucks,” I say.
“What projects?” Oak wants to know.
“A couple small side roles in a few upcoming films. I just signed on for Weisenberg’s latest thriller. The others are mostly dramas and I’d be playing someone much older than myself.” She glances at her hands, almost in embarrassment. “I’m vain, dear. You know that.”
“They’d be lucky to have you,” Oak replies gruffly. The two speak to the ground, afraid to look at each other.
“Thank you. But enough about me. What are you working on?”
Silently, Oak makes circles with his finger on the stone pavers. When Katrina looks disappointed by his lack of response, I blurt out, “He’s working on new music.”
His mother’s eyes widen. “You are? That’s fantastic.”
He clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m trying out a new sound. Don’t know if it’s going to go anywhere. It will probably suck.”
“It does not suck. It’s awesome. I had shivers,” I proclaim.
He twists around to peer up at me. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“You don’t need to get a bigger head. Your ego is threatening to take over the entire southern coast.” I squeeze his shoulder to let him know I’m joking before turning back to Katrina. “It’s wonderful. More of Oakley and less of everything else.”
“That does sound wonderful. I can’t believe Oak is letting you hear it as he creates it. He never does that. What does Jim think?” Katrina asks.
“I haven’t shared any of it with Jim,” Oak admits, rubbing his cheek against my hand.
Katrina’s eyes, so like Oak’s, miss nothing. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s marvelous.”
“I know you and Dad never wanted me to sign that contract,” he mutters.
“Oh, Oak. Your father was just concerned that you’d be taken advantage of and you were so young. There are so many people who wanted to exploit you.”