My grandmother talked to the press and then gathered us all around for a group photo with our esteemed mayor. Cassidy jumped right into the middle of the group picture. Her contribution had been not hurting anyone while she took a nap.
As we were about to leave, Billy came to find my grandmother and me, shaking his head.
“After I explained that I wasn’t going to arrest you all, he had the nerve to ask when you would be back to fix stuff around the house. ‘I pay my taxes,’” Billy said as he did air quotes around Mr. Hytong’s rant.
“Sounds like someone needs to do a wellness check,” Grandma Dawson suggested to Billy.
“You’re probably right,” he admitted. “I’ll tell the appropriate folks at the station, and they’ll have someone come evaluate him.”
There were safeguards in place for people who were no longer able to take care of themselves. The problem was that people like Mr. Hytong flew under the radar because they were shut-ins or had very little interaction with others. If he weren’t such an unpleasant person, I would feel sorry for him.
I thanked Billy for not arresting us and drove home to take a shower.
◊◊◊
I invited everyone who helped with the volunteer work today to go bowling tonight. It had been a long time since I’d gone bowling. I also asked Gina, Pam, and Tracy so my dateless guys—Phil, Tim, and Wolf—would have someone to hang out with.
Cassidy had declared me perfectly safe and bailed on her security duties for the rest of the day. With her PMSing, I made the executive decision to cover for her and risk an outing. If I’d been anywhere else, like LA or New York, I wouldn’t have done it.
The person I worried about a little was Lisa Felton; I’d invited her as my date. While I was willing to date her regardless of my friends’ opinions, it would be better if they accepted her. I hoped that a group outing like this would make it easier.
We were going to Bulldog Bowl, which had seen better days. Back in my grandmother’s day, bowling had been a big thing. Dad had told me that his mom had belonged to a women’s league when he was a kid.
Over the past several years, bowling alleys had started to go under. There were exceptions, though. When I’d spent time in Chicago, I’d been to a place that was a combination bowling alley, bar, and laundromat. It was the place to go on Friday and Saturday nights. They’d geared themselves to young single professionals and provided a unique way to meet other singles.
When we got there, we were the only ones bowling. There were a few older people in the bar.
“This is kind of sad,” Lisa observed.
I shrugged.
“I never promised going out with me was going to be fun.”
“You keep taking me to dives like this, and I’ll have to agree with you,” she said and then gave me a dick-hardening look. “Of course, this means you have to make it up to me.”
“Keep it up, and we’ll be skipping bowling,” I threatened.
“Don’t tempt me like that,” she fired back.
I could already tell I was going to enjoy dating Lisa.
That was when I spotted Dare coming in with Chrissy … and, wait for it … his mom.
“Hold that thought,” I said and pointed at Dare’s mom. “I have to go deal with that.”
I handed Lisa money to go reserve the lanes and get us snacks.
“Dr. Rossetti,” I said in greeting.
“David,” she said, and then had the presence to look embarrassed. “When I saw the outside, I wanted to make sure it was safe for them to come in.”
I did see her point. I hadn’t realized how run-down the place had become. It wouldn’t be long before they shut the doors unless they did something to reinvent themselves.
“I’ll make sure Dare doesn’t touch anything he shouldn’t,” I teased.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Thank you. You don’t know how much you’ve helped him. I’ll leave him in your capable hands,” Dr. Rossetti said and turned to leave.
“Hang on. Just so we’re clear, I’m not babysitting Dare. If he messes up, it’s on him.”
She smiled at me.
“But I know you won’t let anyone pick on him. If he should ‘mess up,’ it might be good for him,” Dr. Rossetti said and then left.
I got my shoes and picked out a bowling ball. I quickly discovered that they didn’t have any balls that fit my hand, so I picked the best one I could find. Lisa had claimed four lanes for us. I was a little confused when I found ten 10-ounce beers on a tray.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
“They have a special on Sunday nights. If you bowl, it’s quarter-beer night,” she explained.
“And they sold it to you?” I asked.
“They didn’t even ask.”
I started to get a bad feeling. If the high school crowd figured out they had quarter beers and didn’t card … It didn’t take too great an effort to connect the dots to that train wreck. Then again, I wanted to enjoy my senior year.
It was skunked beer; it had a wet-cardboard taste to it. Lisa tried a sip and wrinkled her nose.
“We should buy a few good beers before we start drinking this,” she suggested.
