Page 11 of Perfect Playbook

Dear Ms. Mendez(when the hell did I become a Ms,?),

We received Antonio’s test results back, and I must say, this is unprecedented. In all my years as an administrator and as a teacher, I’ve never experienced a moment like this. Antonio is very intellectually advanced, like nothing I’ve ever seen in all my days of working in education. Below you’ll see his math, memory, spatial perception, and linguistic scores compared to that of a twelve-year-old child of average ability. He is well beyond his years in capability.

In light of this news, I’d like to discuss options for his schooling and suggest Longbrook Academy. I can make a call on your behalf to get the ball rolling…

I continue reading, and the strangest combination of elation, relief, and guilt mix in my gut and it churns into nausea. The letter includes his off-the-charts scores. I read the email over and over, my phone getting closer and closer to my nose until the blue light sends me dizzy.

My son is a genius. In any given world it’s a miracle.

But it’s an expensive miracle.

I had a gut feeling that taking my savings down to zerowas a bad idea, especially when, not that I’d ever want to take his money, Dad had disease hit the cows this year and our ranch isn’t having a good season. My brothers have everything tied up in a property they’re developing and their tech business.

I thought I was doing the right thing, finally taking a risk to do something special, to pursue success for the family on the back of my parents’ sacrifices. But I had to make my own as well to start Shino Cakes. I have a very expensive website, kitchen rental, branding, artwork, and a stock of boxes and ribbons just waiting to wrap up those wedding cakes… I have no answer for the principal.

I’m paralyzed; the bridge of my nose stings. If I’m breathing, the rise and fall of my chest is imperceptible. A sort of numbness finds a home inside me, and I stare out at the opposite wall in my hotel room, but my eyes don’t focus on anything.

I fucked up. Big time. All these years I should have given up the cake dream and gotten a so-called real job. I should have a pension plan and insurance paid for by a company and paid time off and a boss who’s been giving me raises every so often. I should have just followed the pack. I’m sure there’s not one single baker paying Longbrook tuition out there.

Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I blink them away fiercely. I have to find an answer. Thinking like this, looking back? It won’t give Nino what he needs.

I ruminate for what seems an eternity more, but eventually, my faraway thoughts return to the room I’m in.

Maybe now isn’t the time for such answers. It’s been a grueling day of driving. I don’t think I spent a second on the road without adrenaline humming in my veins. I’m exhausted, and exhaustion leads to bad decisions and self-loathing. I can do this. Iwillfigure this out. When the sun comes up, I’ll return to my seemingly impossible problem.

But right now, there’s a casino bar calling my name.

I sure as hell need a drink.

I wander down in my jeans and t-shirt, not even bothering to change. They probably smell like sweat, and I know there’s at least one blob of frosting somewhere, but I just don’t give a shit.

I pass the blinking lights of slot machines, considering where I’ll spend the few bucks I shouldn’t, and a wave of guilt washes through me for spending even a dime on drinks tonight. But thirty bucks isn’t going to solve this problem. I need more like thirty thousand.

This place is too hectic, so I read the sign above that spells out my options.Ciao Mario Restaurant, Capri Lounge, La Liga Sportsbooks, Firenze Reception Rooms…

The reception rooms. Logan. He’s probably in there now in that dapper suit, dancing with some bridesmaid who will spread her legs for him tonight. No way I’m headed theretonight.

I consider the options on the sign again. Not hungry. Not dressed for Prosecco. Not rubbing shoulders with my ex.

Sportsbooks it is.

Chapter Five

I might have playedcoy with Shay when I left her in this room earlier today, but now that I’ve had a drink or two, and inhibitions are at bay, it’s evident Ididn’tcome for the cake. I didn’t come for the cake, the YMCA, or the bridesmaids asking for a quickie in the bathroom.

I didn’t come here for Shay either, since I had no idea she’d be here, but it’s as though that’s the reason. Every shot I take is a hope to dull my curiosity, but my gaze continues to slide over the heads of my fellow revelers. With every bite of steak, I glance around looking for her at the table where I spied her name card. My heart stutters with every emptyglance.

She’s not here.

The disappointment is heavier than appropriate and, try as I might, I can’t get my skin to stop searching for her even when my back is turned to the entryway. My muscles tingle with the kind of anticipation that arises when she’s anywhere near.

Sometimes I wonder if settling in Starlight Canyon is the right thing. I can’t even get through this party. What would happen if Shay actually did move on with someone and I had to run into her and her new husband at CCs and pretend I care what the fuck his name is while we wait for our lattes? I still can’t handle a casual conversation without all of that.

But she sure seems to have taken being a mom in her stride. The few times I saw her with Antonio, he seemed like a bright boy. Not that I could be sure. She only introduced me to him once in town and another time at the Danes’ Fright Night. Other times, she’d stand there with him holding her hand, while we’d have a polite catch-up. He was pushing up his little glasses, peering up at my direction while we made stupid everyday chat like I was a nobody to her. Not that it would have made any sense to introduce me as her ex-boyfriend to her five-year-old son.

The groom taps my arm. “You all right, man? You need another shot?”

I don’t need any more alcohol, but I buy another round for any takers. I try to sink into the festivities and enjoy the nostalgic banter, but as if my mind wasn’t completely fucked enough by thinking about Shay, I get a text.

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