'Thanks, Diane. Folks, let's give a big hand to Diane Corrigan-Cochrane, the Voice of the North Delta.'
'Good crowd,' Robert said. 'Hundred and a half easy.'
'For eighteen years,' Charlie's voice told them,
'Dennis has been performing as a champion, the same length of time I spent in organized baseball. Like Dennis, ready to bear down wherever and whatever famous sluggers I was facing. While Dennis was showing his stuff all over the world, I was with the Orioles organization, the Texas Rangers, the Pittsburgh Pirates, the De-troit Tigers, Baltimore again, got traded back to De-troit and finished my career with the Tigers in the '84 World Series. When Dennis started out he knew he would never give up till he was a champion in his field. Just as I bore down in the minors striking out some of the biggest hitters in baseball. Al Oliver, Gorman Thomas, Jim Rice. Let's see, Darrell Evans, Mike Schmidt when I was with Altoona, back then throwing ninety-ninemile-an-hour fastballs. Bill Madlock, Willie McGee, Don Mattingly. And I fanned Wade Boggs twice in the longest game on record. Went eight hours and seven minutes. In other words I know and can appreciate what Dennis Lenahan has gone through to get where he's at today.'
Robert said, 'That man is all scam. I can't believe he's never done time.'
'You haven't,' Anne said. 'Or have you?'
'Jail, no prison. Charlie says he's gonna reenact. Wants to be a Yankee this time.'
'What about the diver?'
'Gonna be a Yankee.'
'But he doesn't know it yet?'
'He don't know shit, but he's learning.'
'How'd you do with the house-trailer guy?'
'Manufactured homes they're called. Got him lined up.'
'You've been a busy boy.' Giving him the look again.
They heard the key in the lock as Dennis went off in a flying reverse pike, Robert's eyes glued to him. Two seconds it took? Maybe two seconds falling sixty miles an hour. Robert turned, raising his arm.
'Hey, Jerry, you just missed the eighty-foot dive, man.' It seemed strange, seeing him with a beard.
Jerry took a cashier's check from his pocket, laid it on the table and began opening a bottle of red saying, 'How do you know it's eighty feet?'
'I either went up there with a ruler,' Robert said, 'or I counted the rungs. Take your pick. You win?'
'Course I won. You think I'd play if I lose?' He said to Anne, 'How you doing, sweetheart? You show Robert your outfits?'
'I took a nap while Robert looked at the view.'
'The show,' Robert said, 'it's still on.' It didn't make sense to him, Anne saying she took a nap, daring Jerry to check the bed for tracks. But that's the kind she was, liked to fool with being caught. So sure of herself she didn't see it: if Jerry ever did walk in on them she'd be the one would have to go.
Robert said, 'Listen, I'm gonna leave you all. I told Dennis I'd come by his house for a drink.
Wants me to check out his landlady. Says she's fine.' It was for Anne, but she wouldn't look at him.
Jerry was shaking his head. 'You're crazy, you know it? This whole business.'
'You're gonna have some fun,' Robert said. 'Be like olden times for you.' He finished his wine and started for the door.
Jerry stopped him. 'Wait. I want to show you my uniform.'
They were in Charlie's ten-year-old Cadillac he'd bought used in Memphis, on their way home.
'You did it again,' Dennis said.
'What I said out there? I was making the point of what you have to go through to be a winner.'
'I've been diving longer'n eighteen years.'
'They don't know that. I say eighteen years each, right away it's like I know what you been through.'
'Charlie, it was all about you.'
'Hey, didn't me and Diane keep referring to you as the world champ? What do you want? All that getting 'em to applaud? You know what I'll never understand? That business about you needing absolute quiet, like a pro golfer getting ready to take his shot, or one of those tennis players you see on TV Somebody in the stands gets up to go take a leak as the guy's serving-Jesus, he has a fit. You see that in baseball? Hell no. I'm three and oh on a batter in his home park, I'm trying to concentrate so I don't walk him and the stands are going crazy, banging the seats. How about a batter, full count on him, they're yelling their heads off and the ball's coming at him ninety miles an hour.'
'Anything you talk about,' Dennis said, 'you turn it around to baseball. You hear what Diane said? Somebody told her I was up on the ladder when Floyd was shot? I saw the whole thing?'
'I missed that.'
'She said it started in some bar and now it's going around.'
'There you are, bar talk.'
'She couldn't remember who told her, but thinks it was someone in the sheriff's office. Like one of the clerks.'
Charlie didn't say anything.
They got home and went in the house.
Vernice said, 'You think I'm terrible, letting you down like that.'
So then Dennis had to tell her no, not at all, no, don't worry about it-all that, even though he hadn't thought about her since finding out she wouldn't be there to call dives. No, what he'd thought about between dives, and waiting on the perch while Charlie gave his baseball talk, was Diane, what she'd heard. Charlie could call it bar talk because he didn't want to think about it, give it any importance; but he could tell it was on Charlie's mind. Charlie told Vernice about Diane CorriganCochrane filling in, Diane with her personality, her professional delivery, and all that did was make Vernice act more depressed. Maybe she really was. Dennis felt either way it wouldn't last.
They went in the kitchen for drinks, Vernice hanging back, telling them from the doorway she was going to catch up on her reading. She said, 'I won't disturb you. I'll let you talk about the show and Diane Corrigan- Cochrane,' and closed the door between the kitchen and the dining L.
Getting out the Early Times and the ice, Dennis said, 'Did somebody see me up on the ladder about that time? Then learn about Floyd on TV and believe I must've been there?'
'I told you,' Charlie said, 'what I thought, it's just talk, pure speculation. A clerk in the sheriff's office hears a couple of smart-ass deputies talking about it.'
'Or Arlen Novis told somebody,' Dennis said, 'one of his guys. Or Junebug was bragging about it. Charlie, I'm the one who ought to tell somebody, that CIB guy, John Rau.' He said, 'I'm ready to,' not happy with the way he felt, like he couldn't move because this redneck ex-convict had told him to sit.
Charlie didn't care for that kind of talk. He said, 'Let's don't rock the boat.' He said, 'Leave sleeping dogs lie.' He said, 'Don't duck if nobody's throwing at you.' And said, 'You know I was never afraid to come inside on a batter. They knew it and you'd see some of 'em at the plate with their butts stuck out, ready to bail.'
By the time they were seated at the table with their drinks, Charlie smoking, Charlie telling Dennis the clubs he was with when he struck out those famous hitters-'With Triple-A Toledo playing Columbus when I got Mattingly'- they didn't see the door open or look over until they heard Vernice.
'Charlie, there's somebody to see you.'
Vernice sounding like she didn't want to move her mouth.
'Yeah? Who is it?'
'Arlen Novis.'
Standing right behind her in his hat. No, a different one. Arlen putting his hands on her hips now to move Vernice out of the way. He came in and she closed the door, staying out of it.
Arlen sat down at the table with them, no one saying a word, sat back in his chair staring at Dennis-Dennis staring back, getting a close look at the hat, one soldiers wore, not cowboys, military from another time, soiled and misshapen, a gold braid turned green around it instead of a band. Arlen said, 'I finally got to see you dive. You're pretty good.'
The man's eyes holding on him, not letting go.
Dennis stood up, turned to get the Early Times from the counter and placed it on the table. Sitting down again he said, 'How would you know if I'm good or not?'
