Sean clicked on Trade Goods.
“Two minutes, thirty seconds,” said the computer voice.
“Click on Tobacco.”
Sean clicked on Tobacco. A message appeared on the screen: “Offer Arcturians Earth’s entire tobacco supply in perpetuity and at no cost? Y/N?”
“Y,” said Jewel.
Sean pressed the Y key. New message: “Offer accepted by Arcturian Grand Council. Web withdrawn to Galaxy 41-B in the Crab Nebula. Earth saved.”
The computer played a trumpet fanfare. “Congratulations, Captain Sean,” said the computer voice. “The Federation hereby authorizes me to promote you to commodore, effective immediately.”
“Hey,” said Sean, turning to Jewel. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it, Commodore.”
“How did you know?” Bobby said.
“That’s all they ever want,” Jewel answered. “They’re completely addicted.”
Sean went to bed a few minutes later. He asked to say good night to the nice lady. Bobby showed her into his room.
“Sweet dreams,” she said.
“I don’t have dreams.”
“Be polite,” Bobby said.
“That’s all right,” said Jewel. “If he doesn’t have dreams, he doesn’t have them.”
Sean nodded. He gave her a long look, one Bobby didn’t recall seeing from him before. “Do you like Bradley?” he asked her.
“Bradley who?”
“It’s my middle name. Instead of Sean. Daddy likes it better.”
Bobby felt Jewel’s gaze on him. He shrugged, as if at some childish fantasy.
“I’m sure your father wants you to be called whatever you want.”
“Even if it’s bad luck?”
Bobby saw Jewel tilt her head again at that measuring angle, but all she said was, “Sleep well.”
They sat in the entertainment center, Jewel with the legal pad on her knee, the tape recorder on the couch between them. Much more than fifteen minutes had passed. She’d asked him a lot of questions he’d been asked before, but for some reason Bobby wasn’t bored yet.
“A beer, or something?” he said.
“No, thanks.”
“Wine?”
“Not for me.”
She flipped through the pages of the legal pad, sighed. “What kind of ballplayer do you think Sean will be?”
That was a new one. He looked at her. She was waiting, her head tilted again. Bobby imagined he was seeing deep inside her, to some essence beyond the fact of her being a woman. That had never happened to him before either.
“No idea,” he said. “But I wouldn’t want him to be a ballplayer.”
“Why not?”
“I just wouldn’t.”
“Do you think you’re just saying that because of the slump?”
Bobby’s guard was down. He almost said yes, almost told the truth, because it was the truth, although he hadn’t known it until she’d spoken. But he got a grip on himself and said: “I’m not in a slump.”
“You’re a lifetime. 316 hitter, Bobby, and as of today you’re batting. 153.”
“They’re just not falling in, that’s all.”
There was a long pause. Bobby could hear the tape recorder whirring. “Do you feel any pressure because of the big contract?”
“How many times do I have to answer that? No.”
“Never again. I promise.” She scanned her notes. “What about your new teammates?”
“What about them?”
“Getting along okay?”
“Sure.”
“No problems?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes there are problems when a big star comes to a new team. You know that. Especially if…”
“If what?”
“If he gets off to a rocky start.”
Bobby rose, crossed the room to the wet bar, got a beer from the small refrigerator beneath it. “There are no problems,” he said.
“Not with any of the players?”
“Correct.”
She opened her mouth as though to say more, stopped herself. They sat in silence, broken only by the whirring of the recorder. He still wasn’t bored.
All at once, she began to pale again. She took a deep breath. “You’ve been generous with your time, Bobby.” She rose, again slightly unsteady. “Just one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Have you ever heard of someone called Gil Renard?”
Bobby thought. “I’m bad with names,” he said.
She laughed, seemed to lose her balance, reached out, touched his forearm. “Don’t I know,” she said.
“Is he in the minors?” Bobby asked.
“No.”
“Why do you ask?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jewel put the legal pad and the tape recorder in her bag.
“That it?” said Bobby.
“I might have a follow-up or two when I pull everything together.”
“Just call.” I said that? he thought, and felt a strange thrill that was almost of danger.
She tilted her head again. “Thanks, Bobby.” Then she was gone. Her touch lingered on his forearm.
Jewel walked toward the parking area in front of the four-car garage. She had a sharp pain in her head and a deep, dull one in her jaw, throbbing in some infernal harmony. She got in her car, parked next to Bobby’s Jeep, closed the door, rolled down the window, breathed in the cool night air, hoping for clarity, or simply the strength to drive home. Pull everything together? She didn’t know where to begin.
Jewel was about to turn the key when a car swept into the circular drive and stopped on the other side of Bobby’s Jeep. She sat motionless. The night was quiet, and what breeze there was blew her way. She heard Wald speak, low but clear: “And now the asshole wants to be traded.”
Then came Val’s voice: “For Christ’s sake, where to?”
“It’s a pipe dream,” Wald said. “No one would touch him. That contract makes him a leper.”
“So what’s going to happen?” Val said.
“Who knows?”
“Can’t you do better than that?”
Wald’s voice rose. “You’re complaining?”
“Shh. I’m not. It’s just that I’d like to know what’s going to happen. Is that so awful?”
Wald snorted. “This one’s up to him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He’s going to have to start hitting. It’s as simple as that.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“He’s through.”
