Playtime (6 page)

But by the time they hit Salsas for some nachos and
enchiladas and make it to the house, all Todd really wants to do is hang around
for a bit and shoot the bull. He's got a touch of jet lag, he says. Of course
he asks about the light and the tunnel and all. Blaine is thinking of having
little cards printed. Maybe "Death ain't all that" or "That
light I saw was a train coming." Blaine shows him the spot where it
happened and Mandy's house. 

 "Nothing good ever came from a girl named
Mandy," Todd says. 

 "That your expert summation of the situation,
huh bro?" Blaine says. 

 "I think Barry Manilow did all the necessary
summing. That song came out and women named their squalling baby girls like it
was mandytory." Blaine groans.   

 "So she's going to stiff you for the
insurance, huh? You need a lawyer, man." He is propped up on one elbow,
laid out on the couch. The flat screen is going without the sound on. Some
tennis match. "She owns that house, right?" 

 "Yeah," Blaine says. "She bought
it when her dad died just a while back." 

 "Hell," Todd says, "She probably
owns it free and clear. You get a big judgment against her, she'll have to pay
you or lose it." 

 "She seems like a nice girl, Todd. I hate to
do that." 

 "You don't seem to realize what's happening
here," his brother says. "She is taking you to the hoop. Your
insurance company's not going to let that happen anyway. If they have to pay
your deal, then they're going to sue her to try and recover their losses. And
if you don't turn in a claim on it, then you're going to wind up eating all
those hospital bills. You can't be a nice guy on this, bro." 

 "Can they do that?" 

 "Damn straight they can," Todd says.
"What you want to do is get on top of the situation, keep it between you
and her, before all that gets started. She got a job?" 

 "I don't really know," says Blaine. 

 "Well, you need to find out," his
brother says. "Get her down here for a little powwow. If she's got a job,
and she owns that house free and clear, she can get a loan and pay you." 

 Blaine turns all that around in his head for a
few minutes. Todd is sinking down into the couch, watching the tennis ball move
from side to side. He thinks over Todd's analysis of the situation. He is
probably right, as he usually is, on money deals. The girl doesn't pay then his
insurance does. Then they will try to recover their money from her. It makes
sense. It's not like she's some homeless alien that just made it across the
border with only the clothes on her back. She owns a home. If he doesn't get
her to settle up with
him,
then she will just have to settle up with
them
later on. Damages. Interest. All of that. 

 Todd is sleeping now on the couch, and Blaine
thinks: but why get in the middle of it at all? Why not just let the insurance
company handle it. Then he's out of it, no hard feelings anywhere. They pay the
hospital, and if they want to go after the girl then that's their business. It
seems like the process will do just fine without him. The hospital gets paid,
and his insurance company has the hassle, not him. He's thinking that Todd
probably figures they can get some extra money from Mandy for their time and
trouble. And maybe they can, but Blaine doesn't want to go that way. His
brother makes his living making deals, and he's good at it. But after spending
his life looking for the angles he tends to always be looking for them. Life is
a series of negotiations for Todd, and he is always on the make for the deal.
He is like the man with the hammer who sees nails everywhere. Once in a while
they do a trip together, climbing in the mountains or skiing, and it always
turns into a series of bargaining sessions. Where they should stay. The time of
year. Who waits at the airport where they meet. What hotel and who drives. Todd
bargains just for practice. Just to see where you draw your lines in the sand.   

 He is snoring on the couch, and Blaine smiles. He
really wouldn't have it any other way. Keeps him sharp, for one thing. His
brother doesn't miss much. He is one of the brightest people Blaine knows. He
goes to the hall closet, takes a blanket out and drapes it over him. Not a
fussy sleeper either. Falls out just about any place he lands. Blaine is
thankful for their closeness. They have done some things together, been in some
hairy spots up in the mountains. They have built a bond that is more than the
once a year meet and eat for some holiday and see ya next year. To work with
people all the time you had to like them, and Todd did. He talked to people
everywhere he went, from waiters to convenience store clerks to company
presidents. Ever since their dad had died he had been the one who kept pulling
the family together.   

 Blaine sits at the table idly thumbing through a
brain book. He might be smart about that stuff, but there were certainly
different types of smart. He mulls the Mandy thing over. Maybe they should go
down and see her tomorrow. She might not know that the insurance company will
come after her regardless what she and Blaine agree to. Do her a favor, give
her a heads-up. That could save her and her credit rating a beating in the long
run. She could get proactive. Contact them and make arrangements to pay without
losing a bundle on her FICO score. He remembers when he was her age. He didn't
even know what a FICO score was. In this day and age you needed to be in the
know. Computers don't forget. It wasn't like when he came up: you screwed up, somehow,
and it might get buried in the mists, lost in the paperwork. It is the computer
age, now, baby: memory central. Nothing lost anymore. If you did it, odds were
it would be on record somewhere forever. Or close enough so it doesn't make any
difference. 

 He considers waking his brother to put him in the
guest bedroom but that just seems stupid. He appears to be doing fine where
he's at. Blaine yawns, stretches, flips out the dining room light and heads to
bed also. Better get some rest. No telling what Todd would get them into
tomorrow. 

The morning comes bright and clear. They have some
coffee and then head down the street to see Mandy, but when the door on the
copper Craftsman opens after they knock, it is Doug from Bilke's standing
there, yawning at them as he opens the screen door.   

 "Yeah?" he says, looking from one to
the other. It appears to Blaine like they may have woken him up. Shame. He doesn't
seem very happy. 

 "Hey Doug, Mandy home?" he says. 

 "I think she's still asleep," Doug
says, scratching the belly of the sleeveless undershirt he has on. What do they
call those things? Beaters or something. "You know what time it is?" 

 "About 8 a.m.," says Todd. "Say,
Doug, could you tell her we're out here. It's kind of important." 

 Doug doesn't look like he is going to move at
all. He's hanging in the door looking at Todd now. "Do I know you?"
he says to him. 

 "We go to school together, Doug? You look sort
of familiar to me, too." 

 "What year did you graduate?" 

 The potential reunion is interrupted by Mandy in
sweat pants poking around the side of the big guy. "What's up, fellas?
Come on in. No need to stand outside." 

 So Doug reluctantly swings the door open wide,
and Todd and Blaine file into what is actually an elegant living room, on one
wall the biggest flat screen Blaine has ever seen, with the giant speakers, and
facing it a huge, theatre-seating type couch. The room is a shade of light
mustard color that complements the copper outside. A couple of nice Van Gogh
prints hang on the walls, one of them that Starry Nights thing. Blaine loves
that painting. Facing the light is an easel with an unfinished painting of
Mandy on it. Paints and brushes are scattered around. The painting is quite
stunning. 

 "Wow," Todd says. "That is really
beautiful work. Who did that?" He has walked over and is standing directly
in front of the easel now. "Excellent color choices." 

 Doug clears his throat, "Just something I'm
messing around with." This is so obviously not true. They are all standing
in front of the easel now, the four of them, looking at it. It is Mandy from
the waist up, but dressed in a maroon dress with a ruffled collar. She is
turned slightly in the portrait, not facing the artist, but almost. She is
looking at the painter, though, and smiling slightly, a look of amusement on
her face.   

 "Doug," says Todd, "You have some
serious talent here, my man. Do you do this for a living?" Todd doesn't
know about Doug and the impound place. 

 "Just noodling around with it," Doug
says. He has the hair flowing free down his back this morning, probably sleeps
with it that way. It is dark and long. He flips it behind his ear unconsciously
and Blaine sees he has a diamond on it today. He is a big man, maybe 6 foot 3
or so.   

 "You ought to consider it," says Todd.
"I know a guy down here handles some artists. You ought to talk to him.
You got some other stuff or is this it?" 

 "I've got a few other things," Doug
says. It figures that Todd knows somebody that could represent him.   

 "This guy could probably set you up for a show,
if you've got enough work for one," Todd says. He is still standing in
front of the easel, chin in one hand, looking down. 

 "You guys come in here and get some
coffee," hollers Mandy from around the corner, and after a minute more of
looking at the painting they all troop into the dining room, which is large
also, clear glass table in the center with a chandelier hanging over it. Mandy
has put out cups, and brings a large pot out and begins filling them as they
settle in. The table is oblong with rounded corners. A couple of simple,
fruit-basket paintings hang on the walls, which are white. Blaine is glad. He
thinks that mustard color in the other room could get to be a bit much after a
while. She brings out a small platter of Danish pastries, and Todd takes one
though Blaine declines his, and they all sit, the other three chewing on the
pastry, and Blaine sipping the coffee, which is excellent. 

 After a minute Mandy asks, "How are you
feeling, Blaine?" 

 "Good," he says. "Little stiffness
in the neck, but I've been running, exercising, and it's going away. Other than
that: great." 

 "Great," she says. "So, what are
you boys up to this morning?"   

 So Blaine launches into his analysis of the
insurance situation, and she is listening intently, munching on the pastry,
eyes on him as he talks, wipes her mouth a couple of times with a paper napkin.
She had put out napkins and coasters for all and put the coffee urn in the
center of the table on a large pad, in case they want more. She is leaning to
the side a bit to look over it at Blaine. 

 "So you're saying the insurance company is
going to come after me, no matter what you and I agree to," she says,
looking at him, coffee cup in midair. 

 "That's what I figure," Blaine says. "I'm
not a lawyer or anything, but that's what Todd and I were kicking around, and
we don't see how it could be any other way. The insurance company may pay for
me, but then they're going to come after you and try to recover their
losses." 

 "Makes sense," she says. "What do
you think, Doug?" 

 Doug leans forward on his elbows. They are
resting on the glass table and Blaine feels it shift as the big man puts some
weight on it. 

 "Yeah," he says, "That's probably
the way it will come down. Those asshole big companies never lose a penny if
they can help it. I could have told you that, Mandy, if you'd asked me." 

 "Just hadn't come up yet," she says,
looking at him. "I haven't really known you long enough to give you my
entire life story." She looks somewhat pissed because everybody else at
the table seems to know how the world works so much better than she does.
Blaine hadn't known much either at her age. It was a type of
feel-it-out-as-you-go process learning how it all worked. You had these common
sense ideas how things would go, and much of the time those didn't pan out. He
is thinking that Doug is a bit old for her. He is mid-thirties or so, like
Blaine, he bets. None of his business, though. He wouldn't have complained if
he could cut a slice of that. He glances over at Todd and would bet that
something similar is running through his mind. She really is a stunning woman.
Probably has the waves part for her pretty much everywhere she goes, is used to
it in the way that beautiful women grow accustomed to that style of treatment.
It is the other side of the sexist pig coin, he thinks, the side you don't hear
that much about. She's not stupid, not at all. She just hasn't had that much
experience handling stuff. 

 Todd has been quiet, for Todd, but now he leans
forward on the table, too, looking at Mandy. "So how did you know your
insurance went out?" he says. "Did they send you a notice?" 

 She nods. 

 "What about the card you carry?" 

 "Misplaced it somewhere," she says. 

 "Did you try to make a claim on the
accident?" 

 "No," she says. "What would be the
point?" 

 "Did you read your policy?" Todd asks.
"Sometimes those notices don't have the correct date on them. The policies
usually give you some type of grace period." 

 "No, I didn't," she says. She gets up
and heads over to a small desk tucked into the corner, nice dark wood, and
opens the drawer and shuffles around for a minute, comes out with an envelope.   

 "Here," Todd says, pulling out a pair
of reading glasses from his shirt pocket. He is wearing a colorful Hawaiian
shirt. "Let me look at it for a minute." 

 She hands it over, looking a touch relieved, and
Todd shuffles through the pages, pausing here and there, Blaine and Doug
watching and drinking coffee. "Right here," says Todd, tapping the
sheet he has the policy folded to. It is one of those stapled documents with
writing on both sides. "This policy should still be in force," he
says. "You have a grace period." 

 "Oh my God," Mandy says, mouth slightly
open.   

 "What you want to do is get on the phone
right now," Todd says, "turn in your claim. Did they give you a
ticket at the accident scene?" 

 "Yes," she says. "No insurance. Their
computer was down." 

 "When you go down to take care of it,"
Todd says, "take a new insurance card and show it to them. They should
dismiss it." 

 "Oh my God," she says again