The Color of Law_ A Novel - Mark Gimenez [97]
“How’s Boo handling it?” Bobby asked.
Scott slapped a June bug off the water and wondered why June bugs hung around through August. Rebecca had been gone fifteen days today.
“Okay, I guess. Hell, I think Boo misses Consuela more—she was more of a mother to her than Rebecca.”
“Rudy gonna get her back?”
In spite of Rudy Gutierrez’s best efforts, the INS had deported Consuela de la Rosa to Mexico. She was now living in the four-star Camino Real Hotel in Nuevo Laredo on Scott Fenney’s American Express card and waiting for Rudy to secure her green card so she could return to the Fenney family in Dallas. A week ago, Scott had put Esteban Garcia on a bus south to keep her company.
“She cleared the background checks, I’m sponsoring her for citizenship, guaranteeing her employment…but the INS is slow-balling her green card.” He shook his head. “But I’ll get her back. I promised her. And Boo needs her more than ever now, her mother running off with a goddamned golf pro.”
“I understand Rebecca leaving you”—Bobby shot Scott a smile—“but how could she leave Boo?”
Scott shrugged. “The humiliation, I guess. This is a tough town if your life is less than perfect. Failure is not an option in Highland Park.” Scott paused and looked over at the girls. “Thank God she didn’t take Boo.”
“Maybe she just changed.”
“Maybe. Maybe I never really knew her. Back then, we were exactly the same, that’s why I married her. We were young and ambitious, two poor kids on the block trying to make it big in Dallas. When we stood in that church and said ‘for better or for worse,’ we weren’t thinking for worse. Things were good and getting better fast. I never figured on things getting worse.”
He shook his head.
“It’s just like football. You never really know your teammates until you start losing.”
“One problem with that, Scotty.”
“What’s that?”
“She started up with that guy while you were still winning.”
Scott nodded. “So the home, the cars, the clothes, none of it made her happy.” He looked over at Bobby. “What the hell do women want?”
Bobby chuckled. “Like I would know? Shit, Scotty, two women have walked out on me.”
“The last seven months, she didn’t want to have sex.”
Bobby caught an errant Frisbee flung by Boo and said, “My wives didn’t want to have sex on our wedding night.”
“I’ll probably never have sex again,” Scott said.
Bobby flipped the Frisbee back to Boo and said, “You? Shit, Scotty, half the married men in Highland Park are worrying their wives are gonna want a second shot at you. It’s me who’s never gonna have sex again. Been almost three years.” Bobby took a drag on his cigarette. “Course, I can crush an armadillo with my right hand.”
“That’s going to kill you one day, Bobby.”
“Nah, it’ll only make you go blind.”
“Not that. Smoking.”
“Oh. One can only hope.”
“Don’t start that depressed crap with me, Bobby. I’m the one who’s lost everything.”
Bobby exhaled smoke and said, “Yeah, but at least you had everything for a while. At least you know what it feels like.”
Scott sucked his tea and said, “You loved her back then, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but mostly I loved your life.”
“Me, too. Right up until two months ago. If Buford had called anyone but me, my life would still be perfect.”
“It wasn’t perfect, Scotty. You just didn’t know it.”
Scott felt the emotion building inside him again and the tears forming and thought he would burst out crying as he had each night in the shower until Bobby said, “You think he’ll make it?”
His tone was that of asking whether a patient would survive a life-threatening operation.
“Who make what?”
“Her golf pro—you think he’ll make it on the tour? It’s pretty tough out there.”
Bobby maintained his deadpan expression until Scott jumped on him and dunked him, Bobby holding one arm aloft