20. Alan

Chapter twenty

Alan

Harrison is first through the door, Arlo by his side snuggled under his arm like a puzzle piece fitting just perfectly. Gramps’s eyebrows rise the second he spots him, but Harry gets in the first word.

“New guy giving you a hard time, Mr B?” Harry asks, and Gramps shakes his head.

“Young Mr. Tanner is a model neighbor.”

“I bet he is,” Harrison replies, turning his head to smirk at me but turning back just as Arlo moves in to say hello to Precious.

“Careful,” Harrison and Alan say at once.

Just like with Ryan, Precious is all purrs and soft head nudges, no teeth or hisses.

“I actually brought you something, Mr. Beaker,” Arlo says, reaching back to Harrison. “Did you grab the book?” he asks Harry, and he slips a notebook out from a bag slung over his back and hands it to Arlo.

“Kelly sent me a few pictures of Precious, and I had some free time this afternoon, so I drew you this,” Arlo says, sliding a page out and handing it over to Gramps. He immediately sits straighter in the chair, jostling Precious a little, but she settles again quickly.

He takes the page from him but doesn’t say a word, his gaze locked on what I can see from here is a cartoon representation of his Precious Satan, only without the horns and flames of hell. I’ll have to ask him to give me that version.

A small laugh escapes my lips at the thought, and Gramps’s attention flicks to me for a second before returning to the page.

“You drew this?” he finally asks, and Arlo nods, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Yeah, Kelly asked me to. Do you…like it?” Arlo asks, and I can tell he’s worried now too that Gramps doesn’t. He can be a tough old bastard, but he’s usually polite enough when it counts.

“Well, Mr. B, what do you think?” Harrison prompts, and Gramps smiles and leans down to Precious in his lap and holds the drawing in front of her face like she would be even able to make out what it is.

“It’s perfect, look, Precious, look at how pretty you are,” he says and then lifts the page back up to admire it more himself.

I release the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and lean back on the counter just as the doorbell chimes again. Here we go again.

I collect Duckie and Ian from the hall and am about to close the door when Gordon, Nicki, and Stevie arrive.

“How did you get a night off?” I ask Stevie as he saunters in all smiles.

“Bella is busy wedding planning, and my suggestions were starting to annoy her and her sister, so they sent me out for a few hours,” he replies, and Duckie laughs.

“Dude, you totally did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you mean. I was serious when I suggested we theme the whole wedding on baseball. It’s what brought us together, after all.”

“And you were shocked she didn’t go for that?” Harrison asks, sitting on the couch with Arlo beside him.

“Okay, maybe not shocked, but I hope she at least lets me have the little baseball chocolates for the favors. Oh, and I want you all to help me with a dance number on the night, too. You’ve seen those viral wedding dances, we are way cooler than them, so ours should be killer.”

“If you invite Dennis, he’ll make sure of it.”

“I might have to swap out a cousin, but hey, there are so many of those it’s not like the parents will notice one missing.”

“Sure,” Harry replies, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry, Gramps, this is Stevie. He recently got engaged to his girlfriend, and you know Duckie and Ian from across the alley.”

“Mr. Beaker,” Stevie says, reaching out to shake his hand.

“You best be leaving your fiancée to the wedding plans. It’s the honeymoon you want to be planning,” Gramps says, and my cheeks immediately burn.

“Gramps!” I say, and Ryan is trying to stifle a laugh across from me.

“Oh hush, if he’s getting married, he knows I’m right. The wedding is for everyone else, the honeymoon is for just you two. So make it special.”

“I was just going to go to Hawaii. I see posts all the time about how it’s the best honeymoon spot,” Stevie says, and Gramps nods and smiles.

“Is that where she always be wantin’ to go?” Gramps asks, and Stevie frowns.

“Actually, I don’t think so. She likes the beach, but she’s paler than me, so has to cover up all the time or she goes bright red like a lobster.”

“Then maybe not Hawaii,” Gramps says, and Duckie throws a small yellow duck at Stevie. It hits him in the chest and rolls into his lap.

“Think harder,” Gramps probes.

“She has this tower thing on her keyring and has had it forever. It’s the one in Paris, I think.”

“Ahh, the city of love,” Harrison says, snuggling into Arlo and kissing his forehead. “I’ll take you to Paris one day, my love.”

“I’d prefer Australia. Have you seen their animals? They are so cute.”

“Noted.”

“Don’t even think of proposing yet. I just got used to the idea of you two dating, I’m not ready for marriage,” Gordon pipes in.

Niki elbows his side.

“Like you wouldn’t love to have your best friend be your brother-in-law,” she teases.

“See, even Niki knows you’re full of shit,” Harrison says, and Gordon tilts his head up a little and sniffs the air.

“Ohh, what is that smell? It’s amazing!”

“Dinner and it will be ready soon.”

“Best you boys be going to wash up then,” Gramps says, and he climbs from the chair, Precious leaping from his lap. I see Harrison flinch, and it’s nice to know it isn’t just me that doesn’t buy this fake angelic persona the spawn of Satan is putting on for everyone else.

Gramps takes the drawing with him through to the other room, and I catch sight of the biggest smile on his face when he passes.

“I’ll set the table,” Ryan says, climbing from his chair.

“I’ll help,” Duckie offers, and when I bring the shepherd’s pie over to sit in the middle on the chopping board they put down, I see why he was so eager to help. On every plate sitting on top of the napkin is a rubber duck, only they are all different, like the fun ones we found all over the tour last year. The one on my plate is wearing a cowboy hat and holding a ring of rope. Arlo’s has a pencil under its wing and an ink smear on its cheek, and then I spot the one on the plate at the head of the table. The spot where Gramps is going to sit. It’s slightly paler than the other ducks, and there is a tuft of gray hair on top of the little duck head, and it’s wearing those half-circle glasses on the end of its little beak.

Gramps takes his seat and picks it up.

“Well, isn’t this a nice touch,” he says, sitting it to the side of his plate. I look over at Duckie and he’s wearing the same confused frown probably on my face right now.

“Smells fantastic. Shall we say grace?” Gramps asks, and just like that, everyone sits and takes each other’s hands. I don’t think we’ve ever said grace at any of the group dinners, but the second Gramps says it, they all just go along. My friends really are the best. But will they still be willing to play along when Gramps starts on about Banana Ball? Fuck. I hope none of them bring it up.

We get to the end of the prayer, and just when I think we’re in the clear, Harry opens his mouth.

“Oh, and thank you to the amazing sport of Banana Ball for which we would not have all met and come together tonight.” I open my eyes and look at Gramps, whose lips have pursed together a little, but his eyes remain closed.

But instead of making a snide comment about the Banana Ball, he just nods and says, “Amen.”

We all release hands, and Gramps nods to Ryan.

“Your meal. Do you want to do the honors?” he asks, and Ryan grabs the large spoon and takes Gramps’s plate first to dish him up.

“Have you ever played baseball?” Ryan asks Gramps, and my stomach flips. Really ?

“I did, in my youth, didn’t go on with it, though.”

“It’s the best game in the world, isn’t it?” Duckie adds, and I look at him pleading with my eyes that he stop.

“I’d have to agree with you there,” Gramps replies, taking a mouthful of his dinner.

“I never really liked it before I met Gordie, and now I’m obsessed. I heard you pitched over two hundred miles per hour a few weeks ago, Ryan,” Niki asks, and Gramps’s eyebrows rise a little.

“Yeah, two-oh-three, but I haven’t done it again. I’m stuck at two hundred and two.”

“You pitch two hundred and two miles per hour?” Gramps asks, but before he can respond, I find my mouth opening.

“Ryan is amazing,” I say, and he smiles my way and continues to dish out the food. “He’s the best pitcher in the league.”

“Hey,” Gordon chimes in. “You’re supposed to be on my team.”

“I am. But I was brought up to never lie, sorry if the truth hurts.”

“You lied about…” Gordon starts but then stops before finishing the sentence, his eyes moving between Ryan and me.

“About what?” Gramps asks, shoveling in another mouthful and looking around the table as he chews, waiting for his reply. We haven’t officially told Gramps about us. He probably suspects, given the amount of time Ryan and I are together, but he could also be totally oblivious, and at a dinner party in a room full of Banana Ball players is probably not the best time to announce our relationship to him.

“About being friends with a Funky Monkey,” Ryan finishes, and I smile.

“Ahh, well, good company is good company, no matter what they call themselves.”

Duckie goes in for a second helping, having almost inhaled his first serving in about two seconds.

“Alan still got his bat around that fastball last week,” Duckie says. “Were you a two-B like Alan when you played, Mr. B?”

He shakes his head. “I played center field for a little while and got a few good hits in, but never anything that fast. I’m not sure I’d even see that ball coming.”

“I can’t see it either. Half the time, I swear I’m guessing when to swing and hoping to feel the sting of the bat when it connects.”

“You haven’t seen Alan play, Mr. B?” Niki asks, and the whole table falls silent.

“I don’t really go out.”

“Oh, but you should for this. I mean, what they are doing is amazing. Banana Ball is everything you could love about baseball mixed with…”

“A circus,” Gramps finishes, and the guys go back to eating.

“That’s pretty right,” Ryan replies, only he’s happy about the comparison. I’m wondering why I didn’t put a stop to this the second it was suggested. I love Gramps and I love my friends, but the two of them in a room talking about baseball is not my idea of a good time.

“I loved the circus as a kid. Didn’t you?” Ryan goes on to say. “The way the ringmaster gets the crowd excited, ready for the show, the clowns lightening the mood, making people laugh, kids smiling, playing, and having fun. Then the real show begins and everyone is already hyped up and cheering along. A circus is a great way of putting it. All the fun of the circus mixed with all the best parts of baseball.”

Gramps doesn’t reply, just nods and continues to eat his dinner. It’s the closest I think he’s come to acceptance of anything baseball being related to what we play, and you know what? I’ll take it.

Something brushes up against my leg, and my heart jumps into my throat as I shove back in my chair, all eyes on me as it clamors to the floor behind me.

Precious meows from beneath the table.

“Seriously, dude, what is it with you and this cat?” Stevie asks, and Harry holds up his hands.

“Not getting into it. I moved out. I’m good now.”

Gramps calls Precious over and lifts her to his lap while everyone laughs, and Ryan dishes another helping onto Gramps’s plate.

“Alan thinks she hates him, but…” Ryan starts to explain.

“No buts. You’ve seen the gashes on my leg, the way that thing hisses at me the second I’m in the room,” I interject.

“And the way she just rubbed up against you to say hi,” Ryan adds, a smirk on his lips. “That was so scary.”

“It was. I had no idea what was under the table.”

“Because in a house with no other pets, it could have been anything?” Kelly adds.

“You would have freaked out, too,” I say, righting the chair and sitting back down, my heart still beating a million miles a minute.

“Would not,” she argues, but we both know she’s lying. When it comes to Gramps and his demon cat, we’re both always a little on edge. But tonight has been good. Great even, and as I look over at Ryan and Gramps deep in another conversation about the he grew up on, I can’t help but wonder, how did anyone ever let this guy go?