5
“Are you serious?”Kelly asked before erupting into a fit of laughter, one Wes couldn’t hear without thinking ofBecca.
“It’s not that funny,” heinsisted.
He could tell she was struggling to contain her delight. “Isn’t it,though?”
“You and Justin are having way too much fun holding this overme.”
“We’re not holding anything over you. I’m just thinking about how much hell you gave Justin over taking you to bingo nights with his family, and now you’re eagerly signing up for one.” She was quiet for a moment before adding, “This wouldn’t by any chance have anything to do with Art Cromley, wouldit?”
“I worry Justin’s gotten into your head about these things. I’m a little too damn old to be attending bingo nights for someman.”
Although, it was the truth. He was only eager about going because he wanted to see Art, to talk to him once again. He’d had so much fun chatting with him earlier in the week, just as he had all those years ago when they’d spoken in thepark.
“No need to get defensive, Daddy,” Kelly said, stressingDaddyas she always did when trying to make peace, since she knew how that affected him. “I think it’s great that there are residents you know from when you wereyounger.”
“We weren’t that friendly or anything. He’s a good man, and we have one thing in common, but that doesn’t mean anything more thanthat.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” Wes could hear the patronizing tone as she hummed herdisbelief.
“I don’t know why I even call you anymore.” It was a playful game between them when he expressed his disapproval likethat.
“Daddy!”
“Well, I don’t know why I do when my daughter doesn’t even make time to come and seeme.”
“Two weeks,” she said, and Wes could imagine her eye roll that likely accompanied his accusation. “I wanted to be there for the move, and you know it, but I had court dates, and I wasn’t about to hand these accounts over to some of the guys here. They were practically salivating over them, and I haven’t spent my life fighting for them so they could step in and try to take credit for these cases I’ve been doing all the workon.”
“I know that, Kelly. And I’m proud of you for all you’ve accomplished. Don’t ever question that. You make your mother proud every day. I hope you realizethat.”
She went quiet, and he heard her swallow. “Thank you, Dad,” she said, and unlike the rest of their conversation, her words sounded utterlysincere.
“Just get here sooner rather than later, babygirl.”
She snickered. “I will,Daddy.”
* * *
Wes entered the packed auditorium,holding several game sheets and a red ink dauber he’d picked up at a table set outside the main entrance to the common area, in a wide atrium roughly the size of a basketball court. The long tables normally set up for meals were arranged in rows before a wall where three large screens were set up on stands beside a DJ booth. From the black speakers flanking the booth, Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time” filled the room with the familiartune.
As Wes searched for Art, he ran into a few of the residents he’d met throughout the week. He finally discovered Art on the opposite side of the room, flagging him down with an overdramatic wave of his arm. He wore khakis and a short-sleeved button-up shirt that seemed too big for him, and he was smiling with an enthusiasm that reminded Wes of being in grade school together, racing around on the playground as they played tag and cops androbbers.
He made his way through the aisles between the tables, eventually reaching Art and his crew, whom Art eagerly introduced him to. No surprise, they were a friendly bunch, allsmiles.
A man named Gabe, whom Art had mentioned in conversation, patted the seat of the plastic chair beside him. He had long hair of varying shades of silver twisting every which way around his head, with a particularly thin spot at the crown of his head. Similar silver hair decorated his beard. He wore a navy-blue jumpsuit and a gold crossnecklace.
“Come on. Make yourself comfortable, Wes,” Gabe said with agrin.
Art sat back down in his seat beside Wes, his friends Frances and Tony directly across fromthem.
Frances and Tony worked busily, preparing their bingo sheets by matching them with the patterns in the program, using their daubers to blot out the spots that wouldn’t be in use. Next to one another, Frances and Tony were night and day. Frances had black hair cut close to her scalp, while Tony’s white hair was thick and lengthy, gelled with a part in the side. Tony had at least a good foot of height on most of the crew, except Wes, who figured they were around the same height, with Tony maybe being an inch or two more than his six-two. Unlike Gabe, Tony was brawnier, his arms thick in the sleeves of his tee. He slid the glasses he wore up the bridge of hisnose.
As Wes checked out Art’s sheets, he noticed Art was already on top of his game, his sheets prepared the way Frances and Tony were working to readytheirs.
“You guys look like you are real pros,” Wesobserved.
Frances looked up and inspected his sheet and dauber, her slim eyebrows pushing together and her already narrow face pulling in as she sucked her cheeks in. “You need to get started blacking out the ones that won’t be used now. It’ll be easier to keep up when they start calling outnumbers.”
