Page 5 of Totally Geeked

“We got it,” I say, leaning on the tree. “Arlo’s your brother, check.”

“And if any of you start on him, you be startin’ on me, so be nice.”

“We’re always nice,” I say with a chuckle.

“Not your kind of nice, Harry. Don’t you be hitting on my brother,” Gordon yells, pointing a finger at me.

Arlo blushes a bright pink, and I almost choke on my wine.

“Oh, darlin, I never… I wouldn’t… How much has Gordon had to drink?”

Gordon waves a hand my way and downs the rest of his beer. “Hardly nothin’,” he slurs, pushing back up from the chair and heading toward the bar.

Benny leans toward Arlo.

“You’re the writer, aren't you?” Benny asks.

“Yep,” Arlo says, and I watch his grip on the book tighten. Is that his book? He was writing something about Banana Ball if I remember right. We all had to sign something that agreed we might be mentioned or referenced or something. I didn’t really read it all that well. The lawyers looked over it, said it was fine, so I signed.

“Do you know any of Gordon’s secrets we can use?”

I sip my wine, not really in the mood to drink tonight while the others grill Arlo for gossip on his brother.

“There’s really nothing I could tell you that you probably don’t already know. He doesn't really keep secrets,” Arlo says,glancing my way. I smile, and he immediately adjusts his glasses and looks away.

“Well, that’s boring,” Benny says, standing. “I need another drink. You fellas want anything?”

Alan and Phillip stand.

“We’ll come, too. Someone has to do something about this music,” Alan laughs, and they leave.

“Come dance with us, Artie,” a woman calls from beside the pool, and Arthur downs his drink and shrugs. “Duty calls,” he laughs and then dances his way over to her.

Arlo lowers the book to his lap.

“Is it any good?” I ask and take a seat in one of the armchairs. The outdoor seating is supposed to be weatherproof, so the fabric has this scratchy plastic feeling against my arms.

“Huh?”

I nod toward his lap. “The book, is it good?”

He blushes. “Ahh, I hope so. I mean, I wrote it. I just came here to…he didn’t tell me he was having a party.”

“Oh, is it the Banana Ball book? That’s awesome. I’ll have to buy a copy.” I’ve probably read less than ten books in my life and most of them in college and only because I had to. But I’m not going to tell him that, because for the first time since his brother dragged him over here, he doesn't look completely terrified. His shoulders relax, and he turns the book over in his lap.

“It’s a children’s book, you wouldn’t…”

“I have nieces and nephews I read to all the time. What’s it called?” It’s not a total lie. I do have two nieces and a nephew, but I don’t think I’ve ever read to them. They pretty much attack me the second I step foot inside my sister’s house, tackling me to the ground and holding me there until I give in. How my sister handles that much energy from three six-year-olds, I will never know. But for some reason, I want him to think I do. I want him to see me as the kind of guy that reads to his sister’s kids. Ishould read to them. I could read his book to them. I’ll have to call Beth later and ask when she’s next going to visit.

He shifts on the outdoor couch closer toward me and holds out the book.

“I based it on Gordon, and well, Banana Ball, and you all, too.”

On the cover is a guy in cartoon that is clearly modeled after his brother, the hair, the nose, it looks just like him, and he’s wearing an orange baseball outfit like the Animal Control ones we wear. He’s depicted standing like he’s just thrown a pitch, only the ball he’s thrown isn’t a ball at all, it’s a banana.

The title,Gordie Goes Bananas,is totally fitting. Turning a few pages in, he quickly grabs it from my hands.

“It’s silly. I only brought it ’cause he wanted a copy. You don’t have to read it.”

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