Lights Out Read online

  ‘Security from who?’

  ‘Kooks, stalkers, psychos. God knows who the hell’s out there.’

  As if on cue, the crowd on the street started chanting, ‘Jake, Jake, Jake . . . !’

  ‘Just try to relax and enjoy yourself,’ Donna said. ‘Why don’t you have a drink or something to eat?’

  She tried to put her arm around his waist, but Jake avoided it.

  Then his cousin Bobby came over and said, ‘Hey, Jake, they’re asking for you outside.’

  ‘Yeah, I hear,’ Jake said. ‘Do me a favor, will ya? Tell them I’ll be back outside in a few.’

  ‘Sure,’ Bobby said, and walked away.

  ‘See? Now I’m gonna be out there all day,’ Jake said to his mother. ‘I should just duck out the back door and stay in a hotel.’

  ‘Oh, don’t act so spoiled,’ Donna said. ‘Some people would kill for what you have.’

  ‘You don’t get it,’ Jake said. ‘I wanted to take a break from my life this weekend. I thought I’d see you and Dad, and get to spend some time with Christina. Where is she, by the way? I didn’t see her in there.’

  ‘She had to work,’ Donna said. ‘But she said she’s gonna be by later. Look, Jake. You don’t get a lot of opportunity to see your family and friends nowadays, so why don’t you just try to have some fun with it? It’ll just be a few more hours; then you can relax the rest of the weekend.’

  ‘I don’t have a choice now, do I?’ Jake said.

  Back in the living room, Jake was cornered by his uncle Alan, Donna’s brother. Alan was a thin, bald guy with thick glasses who lived in Nowheresville, Pennsylvania, somewhere out near the Delaware Water Gap, and he always bored Jake to tears. Jake wasn’t sure what Alan did for a living - something to do with marketing or sales, or computers, or maybe something with drugs or chemicals - but he went on and on about his job, and Jake had to back away a couple of feet because Alan was a close-talker, and his breath smelled like sardines. Alan continued talking about whatever, and Jake smiled at other people in the room and said things like, ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ ‘Yo, what up?’ and ‘Hey, look at you,’ and shook hands with people who were passing by and had little conversations with them, telling them how great they looked and how good it was to see them, even if he had no idea who they were. Some old guy came up to Jake and said, ‘The Mets need you in right,’ and Jake said, ‘Let’s see if they can afford me,’ and the guy walked away laughing. A black guy with a shaved head came over and said, ‘Great to see you again, man,’ and Jake said, ‘Yeah, you too, bro,’ and then they shook hands and slapped each other’s backs, and Jake figured the guy was somebody he went to school with, although he didn’t look at all familiar.

  Five minutes must have gone by, and Alan was still yapping away. Then Jake heard the words keynote speaker and an hour or two tops and he knew he had his chance to escape.

  ‘Love to, man,’ Jake said. ‘I’ll tell my PR guy to buzz you. If it fits into my schedge, I’m there, bro.’

  Jake walked away but didn’t get far before he heard a high, nasal voice say, ‘Jake, wait, I wanna talk to you.’

  Jake recognized the voice right away. He had known Rose-Marie Rossetti his entire life and she and his mother were still best friends.

  Rose-Marie came over and gave him a kiss; she had a lot of lipstick on so he knew there was a big mark on his cheek now. Hoping he wouldn’t get a zit there, Jake said, ‘It’s so great to see you. How’s it going?’

  ‘Everything’s going great, and it’s great to see you. It was such a great idea your mom had to throw this party.’

  ‘Yeah, it was,’ Jake said. ‘So where’s Ryan?’

  Jake didn’t really care where Ryan was, but he realized for the first time that he wasn’t at the party.

  ‘He’ll be here later,’ Rose-Marie said. ‘He wouldn’t miss this for the world.’

  ‘Cool,’ Jake said. ‘I’d love to see him.’

  Jake didn’t expect Ryan’s father, Rocco, to be at the party, so he didn’t even ask about him. Rocco and Jake’s father had hated each other for years; they’d never set foot in each other’s houses, and they never would.

  ‘So,’ Rose-Marie said, ‘you look handsome as always.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jake said, pretending to be flattered. ‘You look great too.’ Then he took a closer look at her and saw that she was still overweight and had that dark mustache. Growing up, the kids in the neighborhood used to make fun of Rose-Marie - behind Ryan’s back - walking around with their forefingers over their upper lips.

  ‘I heard you had another great season,’ Rose-Marie said.

  ‘That’s true, I did.’ Jake looked beyond her, waving to his aunt Joanne.

  ‘We’re all so proud of you.’

  ‘That’s great to hear. Having support at home means a lot to me.’

  ‘You know, I see a lot of Christina these days.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Ryan and her have become very friendly. He has her by the house sometimes.’

  ‘Yeah? That’s cool.’Jake smiled at the kind-of-familiar-looking woman across the room who he thought might be an old friend of his mother’s but who could’ve been his second- or third-grade teacher.

  ‘Christina’s a great girl,’ Rose-Marie said. ‘When are you gonna marry her already?’

  ‘Stay tuned.’

  ‘Really? You set a date? Donna didn’t tell me anything about that.’

  ‘We didn’t set a date yet.’

  ‘Well, you better not do it too soon. I’m gonna have to go on a diet before the wedding.’

  Jake rested a hand on Rose-Marie’s shoulder playfully, then said, ‘You kidding? You look beautiful just the way you are.’

  ‘What a charmer. No wonder all the girls go so crazy over you.’

  ‘Great seeing you again.’ Jake started away.

  ‘Oh, and I made my famous lasagna especially for you,’ RoseMarie called after him.

  ‘Great,’ Jake said. ‘Can’t wait to have some.’ He smiled until Rose-Marie looked away, and then he winced. He was off carbs, and besides, he hated Rose-Marie’s lasagna. It was always too dry, and something in the sauce gave him the runs. She had to be the only Italian woman in the world who couldn’t cook.

  His sister waved him over, and they talked for a couple of minutes. Michelle was two years older than Jake and taught economics or business or something like that at some college on Long Island that he always forgot the name of. Jake could never think of things to talk about with his sister, so he was glad when Bill and Wanda, neighbors from up the block, came over and joined the conversation. As soon as he had the chance, he slipped away.

  After talking with some more neighbors and relatives, Jake finally made it to the stairwell and he didn’t blow his chance for a getaway. He went up the stairs two at a time, then down the hallway to his old room, since converted to a guest room. Glancing around, he saw that the bed was covered with coats, and Steven and Ellen, some old friends of his parents’, were there. Before he was seen, Jake made a U-turn and went through his parents’ bedroom, into their bathroom, and locked the door.

  He took out his cell and called Christina at work. A receptionist answered, and Jake said, ‘Yeah, Christina, please.’

  ‘She’s with a patient. Who’s calling, please?’

  ‘Tell her it’s her little itty-bitty cuddle bear.’

  ‘Little what?’ The receptionist was suspicious, as if she thought this might be a crank call.

  ‘Itty-bitty cuddle bear,’ he said slowly.

  She asked him to say it a third time, and he did, spelling itty and bitty.

  ‘Wanna leave a number?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s an emergency; just put me through.’

  The receptionist deep-breathed, then said, ‘Hold on.’

  About a minute later Christina came on and said, ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hey, baby, hey, baby, hey,’ Jake said to the tune of the No Doubt song.

  ‘What’s up?’ Christina asked, sounding pissed off.

  ‘That’s the welcome I get?’

  ‘I’m really busy. What’s the emergency?’

  ‘I wanna see you.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Hell.. . I mean my parents’ house, hiding out in the bathroom

  . . . Hey, you didn’t know about this party bullshit, did you?’

  ‘Kind of. Look, I really have to go. I’ll see you later, okay?’ Still looking in the mirror, Jake noticed a short, very thin hair on his forehead, below his hairline.

  ‘Shit,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He opened his parents’ medicine chest to look for a pair of tweezers. ‘So when am I gonna see you, baby?’

  ‘I just told you - later. When I get off work.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re gonna keep me waiting so long.’ Jake made a disgusted face, looking at his mother’s diaphragm and at a bottle of wart ointment, and then he found the tweezers.

  ‘Look, I really have to go,’ Christina said.

  ‘When do you get off?’

  ‘Four thirty.’

  ‘I’ll come pick you up.’ Jake plucked the hair.

  ‘No,’ Christina said quickly. ‘I mean, I gotta go home and change and . . . I’ll just see you at your house like around six.’

  ‘Cool,’ Jake said. ‘I’ve got some good news for you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’

  ‘I better go.’

  ‘Can’t wait, baby.’

  After plucking another stray hair from under his right eyebrow, Jake replaced the tweezers and realized he was feeling bummed. For a second he thought it had to do with the party and the whole Marianna Fernandez mess, but then he decided it was Christina. In high school they used to have great times together, talking and laughing, but now he felt like they had nothing to say to each other, and he wondered if this whole getting-married idea was a big mistake. Maybe his lawyer could talk the Fernandezes’ lawyer into getting Mr Fernandez to sign that paper and settle. Or, if they couldn’t settle, and they needed some distraction PR, maybe he could start dating Paris Hilton or Lindsay Lohan or an Olsen twin. Getting linked with some trendy chick would get him tons of photo ops and mentions in the gossip columns, and it would save him from having to marry a dental hygienist from Brooklyn.

  Nah, Jake decided. The big sports star hooking up with the movie-star type was a cliché - marrying his high school sweetheart was the right move for his image.

  Jake left the bathroom. In the hallway outside his parents’ room Jake met his father, who’d just come up the stairs. Antowain Thomas gave Jake the same once-over that he’d given him outside, looking him slowly up and down, and then said, ‘You spend so much time getting dressed, no wonder you got no time to return your father’s damn phone calls.’

  ‘You called me?’ Jake said, taking out his cell.

  ‘Not now,’ Antowain said. ‘I’m talking about during the season. I get your voice mail every time.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Jake said. ‘I—’

  ‘I called you three times right after that game against the Astros. The one you went oh for five and struck out three times.’

  Jake squinted, as if trying to remember, but he knew exactly what game Antowain was talking about.

  ‘Right,’ Jake finally said. ‘The pitcher had good stuff that day.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Antowain said. ‘The Pirates scored seven runs that game, knocked the starter out of the box in the fifth. It was only you looked like you was swattin’ flies up there.’

  ‘So I had a bad game.’

  ‘You had a bad month. I saw your other games too. You were pulling out with your shoulder on the off-speed stuff; your timing was all messed up. That’s why I called you - was gonna give you some pointers.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jake said, ‘but that’s why we have a hitting instructor on the team.’

  ‘Your damn hitting instructor didn’t stop you from hitting two fifty-eight in September, one forty-two with runners in scoring position. See, I know all your stats. Your average dropped seventeen points that last month. You only had one homer, nine RBIs. That’s pitiful.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about? I had my best season ever. I ended up at three fifty-one. I won the freakin’ batting title.’

  ‘That satisfies you?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t it satisfy me?’

  ‘You could’ve hit four hundred, you set your mind to it. You got the same problems you always did - you don’t stay focused; you quit when your team gets too far ahead or too far behind. Just ‘cause your team’s out of the race, you don’t show up to play no more.’

  ‘I don’t need this shit.’ Jake tried to get by, to go downstairs, but Antowain wouldn’t get out of his way.

  ‘And how ‘bout all them strikeouts?’ Antowain asked.

  ‘I only struck out, what, eighty times this year?’

  ‘That’s too much for a guy who only hit twenty-two homers. How come you don’t have your power numbers up? You got the height; you got the extension. You could’ve hit forty homers this year if you just went to the gym instead of the nightclubs. Yeah, I read the papers - I know how you been gallavantin’ ‘round town with the ladies.’

  ‘The papers lie,’ Jake said, thinking that he’d never heard his father use the word gallavantin’ before.

  ‘And how come you only had twenty-seven doubles?’ Antowain went on. ‘Guy with your speed should’ve had thirty-five at least. You don’t hustle outta the box, that’s why. You just stand there, watching the ball, just like you did in Little League.’

  ‘So let me get this straight,’ Jake said. ‘I put up awesome numbers this year, I’m probably gonna get MVP votes, and that’s still not good enough for you?’

  ‘You’re not reachin’ your potential.’

  ‘Bullshit. Nothing I do’s ever good enough for you. If I had a year like Babe Ruth or Barry Bonds, you’d still find something wrong with it.’

  ‘You can always do better.’

  ‘See? And you wonder why I don’t return your calls.’

  ‘You just don’t wanna listen,’ Antowain said. ‘You think you got all the answers.’

  ‘Whatever you say,’ Jake said, and he pushed by his father and went downstairs.

  The party was still going strong; there seemed to be even more people in the house. Jake was scanning the room, looking for Christina, when Donna Thomas came over and said, ‘Having a good time, honey?’

  ‘When Christina comes I’m outta here,’ Jake said, glancing at the NO NEW MESSAGES display on his cell phone, wondering why nobody was getting the fuck back to him.

  ‘Come on,’ Donna said. ‘You have to stay until at least eight o’clock. People want to see you.’

  ‘People always want to see me,’ Jake said.

  He went outside and the crowd gave him a thunderous ovation, as if he’d just slammed a game-winning homer. As he signed some kid’s glove, the crowd pressed closer to him, jostling for position. It was mostly kids with their dads, but there were a lot of other adults there too, including reporters and photographers from the Post and the News. And, of course, there were also a lot of girls, screaming, ‘I love you,’ and ‘Will you marry me?’ or just screeching the way girls always did when they saw Jake. He had groupies in Pittsburgh, and in most other cities, and he had been on the cover of Teen People twice.

  Jake posed for pictures with the girls, and most of them kissed him on the lips, blushing, as if this were the biggest thrill of their lives, which it probably was. Most of the kids asked him to sign only a ball or a baseball card, but others had brought bats, balls, gloves, cards, yearbooks, eight-by-tens, and other shit for him to sign. They told him that he was their favorite player, that they wanted to grow up to be just like him, and about ten different people said to him, ‘You rock.’ Although Jake remained polite, smiling for the cameras, signing everything, he knew that most, if not all, of these people were full of it. The ones wearing THOMAS 24 jerseys and Pirates caps were the biggest phonies. Seriously, how many Pittsburgh Pirates fans could there really be in Brooklyn? Most of the stuff he signed today would probably wind up on eBay.

  As Jake continued signing, reporters interviewed him, and he told them how much being a role model for kids meant to him, and how flattering it was for him to get so much attention from the hometown fans. Tomorrow all of this would pay off when the articles ran about how Jake had tirelessly signed autographs for hours and how unselfish athletes like Jake Thomas were an endangered species.

  A pretty, light-skinned girl who kind of looked like Halle Berry handed Jake an eight-by-ten glossy, the one where he was wearing the short-sleeved Van Heusen linen shirt, with his arm muscles bulging. Jake asked her what her name was, and she said Jasmine. While he signed the picture, To Jasmine, love always, Jake Thomas, Jasmine told him that she had a poster of him hanging up in her room.

  ‘You do?’ Jake said, as if this surprised him.

  ‘Yeah, I look at it every night before I go to sleep. Can I get a picture with you?’

  Jasmine squished up close to him, wedging her head under his armpit and putting an arm around his waist. She was wearing Tommy Girl, which reminded Jake of what’s her name in Denver, and also that girl in San Francisco - Donna, or Debbie, or Diane, or something with a D.

  Jasmine’s friend snapped the picture, and then Jasmine said to Jake, ‘If you ever wanna, like, go out and have some fun sometime, here’s my number.’

  Jasmine handed him a folded-up piece of paper; then she kissed him on the lips. The crowd oohed as Jasmine winked at Jake and walked away with her friend.

  Someone brought out a chair for Jake to sit on, and he continued signing until the sun began to set. Then he heard a familiar voice call out his name. Even in Gap boot-cut jeans, some old brown leather bomber jacket, and kind of ratty, out-of-style long hair, Christina was a goddess. She was a natural beauty, the type of girl who could look great without trying, who could throw on dirty laundry and look awesome, and Jake remembered why he’d gone so nuts for her in high school and why she was going to become Mrs Jake Thomas. Okay, so maybe he’d have to polish her up for LA - hire her a stylist, encourage her to lose a few LBs - but then she’d be perfect.