Broken Links

"I own a brokerage house. We help people with their investments."

"Are you local?"

"Pretty much. Right off 21st street and 12th avenue."

"Is it a one-man operation?"

I didn't want to come across as a braggart, so I undersold it. "No, I've got a few employees. We're not Morgan Stanley, but we're not some fly by night company either."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"You know, I never really think of it in those terms, but yeah, I guess I do. It sort of suits me. Analytical, but passionate about what I do."

Finished with our entrees, we enjoyed an aperitif.

"So, what's your life like, Scott Billings? What do you do when you're not working? What's a typical Tuesday night for you? Is tonight laundry night or do you go out clubbing?"

"Ah, no. Tonight is sort of an anomaly. I'm going to hit up a florist and spend a fortune to make up for being a crap uncle and go to my niece's recital or concert or... I don't know, whatever they call those school things."

She smiled. "Really? I can't picture you as an uncle, but then I also can't picture you as a crap uncle. I bet you're great with your niece."

"I am when I see them. Her and her brother. But I let myself get sidetracked too often. I'll be there tonight, come hell or high water."

"Does she play an instrument?"

"No, she sings."

Nancy had a knack for getting me to talk about myself and the things I cared about. Within a few minutes she knew pretty much everything there was to know about my niece and her hobbies, grades, likes and dislikes.

When we finished and I had the check, we had our first awkward silence. Nancy looked at me expectantly and I was drawing a blank. Should I ask her out for another night?

Her smile flattened and she tilted her head slightly. "Okay, you don't seem to do subtle, so I'm going to have to drive into the obvious, blurring on obnoxious, lane. We just spent ten minutes talking about a recital you're going to tonight. I'm obviously interested, and I gave no indication that I had plans. Is this a family-only event?"

Leaning back in my chair, I was a bit gobsmacked. "No, not at all. I'm just a little dense. Nancy Yee, would you care to join me at the very best eighth grade concert in Pueblo?"

"Well, Mr. Scott Billings, I think that I would."

She caused a bit of a stir as we entered. The fathers all stared and some people recognized her. After the concert, I gave my niece a bouquet that was almost larger than she was and was rewarded with a huge hug. We all went out for burgers and ice cream and my family seemed to love Nancy.

A week later my phone rang.

"Mr. Billings..."

"Alice, if you don't call me Scott, I'm hanging up."

"Uhm, okay, Scott. Ms. Yee has received some shirts from Nike and Titleist. She was wondering if you were available this Thursday for dinner. She could give them to you then."

We soon dropped the pretense of the gifts from sponsors and just started dating. I accompanied her to a few events, which likely disappointed most of the single males attending. She joined me at the charity outings my company sponsored. Most often, we had low-key dates, often renting a movie and having dinner at home. For someone of her stature, Nancy was remarkably down to earth.

We'd been seeing each other for about two months and had been intimate for a while when I decided to step up my grilling game. I had a Big Green Egg on the porch and we'd often throw in some fish in a foil pouch or some marinated skinless chicken breast. She kept pestering me about what we were going to have, but I refused to give up my secrets.

I drove us over to Frank's Meat Market on Santa Fe Drive. It was a beautiful day, so we had the top down. Getting out of the car, she started guessing.

"Bison?"

I smiled. "No."

"Elk?"

"Nope." I started getting a little concerned. She was guessing exotic and I was going for fancy. I was going to get us two dry-aged prime tomahawk-chops. It was a stupid cut that allowed the butcher to charge outrageous prices for bone, but it looked impressive as hell. It was a thick steak at the end of a bare bone as long as my forearm.

I opened the door to the shop for Nancy and heard the voice. My shaking was mild, but it was there. It was selfish beyond belief, but I didn't want to see her or her family, but there it was, the voice I couldn't escape, the emotions I couldn't avoid.

"Scott Billings! There's no way you're getting away without a hug."

Amber Casseli looked like she stepped off a California beach. Long blonde hair, large breasts, deep tan, and a perfect white smile. She had a bag of something from the liquor store next to Frank's when she stepped up and wrapped her arms around me as we stood there blocking the entrance to the meat market.

"Hey, Amber. How've you been?"

"Well, you'd know if you weren't such a stranger. I've been good, Scott. It's... it's gotten easier. I don't know if that's the right word. I'm dealing. How about you?"

"Yeah, good. Good. Things are..."

"Good?"

I let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah. Listen, this is Nancy. Nancy, this is Amber, an old friend."

They exchanged hellos and Amber hugged me again. "Listen, I've got to go, but give me a call, okay? You don't have to be... you know what I'm saying. Call me."

"Sure. I'll give you a call. Same number?"

"Absolutely. Nancy, it was nice meeting you."

She walked off to her car and I leaned back into the door that I was still propping open. Closing my eyes for a minute, I clenched my fists, got control and wiped the sweat from my brow. It all came tumbling back. The anger, the frustration and sheer outrage all oozed past the mental door I hid them behind. I tried to push it back, but it refused to accede the ground it had taken. Nancy looked at me oddly and we went up to the counter.

The rank injustice infuriated me.

When the clerk was free, I spoke up. "Hey. I have two steaks waiting under Billings."

"Two minutes, let me grab them."

He went into the rear of the store and was soon back. "I'm sorry, what was the name?"

"Billings. Scott Billings. I called in the order on Monday."

"And what were you getting?"

"Two tomahawk chops."

"Okay. Be right back."

He returned empty-handed. "Mr. Billings, it seems as though there was some sort of mistake. We don't have your steaks, but I did see them listed for pick-up. I spoke to my boss. Can we offer you two shell steaks on the house? 21 day dry-aged."

Looking at the floor, I slowly counted to three before responding. "Let me ask you something. If I wanted shell steaks, what are the chances I would have ordered shell steaks? Pretty damn good, right? This was a special dinner and I knew what the fuck I wanted. How many people do you get in here ordering tomahawks? Enough that you just forget an order? No big deal, you can afford to lose customers? Okay. No problem. Give me two A5 Kobe strip loins."

"Ah, we don't... Kobe has to be special ordered."

The door in my mind was buckling and emotions were bubbling out, drowning my self-control. "What the fuck sort of butcher shop is this? You lose my order, you don't have my second choice, what do you have? How about a fucking hot dog? You have hot dogs? I'll just grill up some fucking hot dogs instead of the steaks I went out of my way to order five days in advance. Don't worry, hot dogs will work. That's impressive, right? Totally romantic. You have some kick-ass relish to go with that?"

"Listen, I'm really sorry. I can get the owner if you'd like. Could you just hold it down a bit?"

"Hold it... No, I'm not going to hold it down. You think you're the only butchers in Pueblo? Fuck this place."

I stormed out and was turning on the car before Nancy managed to get in. The radio was blaring as I drove, and she eventually leaned over and turned it off.

"So, how long were you with Barbie and how badly did it end?"

Pissed off, I looked at the radio, the road and then at the woman sitting next to me. "She's not a Barbie, all right? If you don't know what you're talking about, just keep your mouth shut." I snapped the radio back on.

She looked out her window for a while, before speaking. "Drop me off at my condo. I'll get an Uber and pick up my car tomorrow."

Embarrassment was overwhelming the anger. We were about fifteen minutes from her place when I turned the radio off. "Amber's not a Barbie. Farthest thing from it. And we were never together. She's happily married and has three kids. She's... She was Anthony's mom. What sort of a world..." I paused. "It was always Anthony, never Tony. Make that mistake and he'd correct you right away in the sternest voice you ever heard come from a five-year-old."

Pausing, I remained silent for a minute. "I'm sorry, Nancy. Really. You familiar with the Ronald McDonald House?"

"I've been to the one in L.A."

"So you know. They provide housing adjacent to hospitals for kids that are seriously or terminally ill and their folks. Free of charge. My family's been volunteering there the third Saturday of every month since... Well, for a long time. I usually call ahead and find out if there are any new kids and if they had any hobbies or interests or anything. You know anything about American Girls Dolls? Girls love them and I don't have a clue. Anthony? He was obsessed with baseball. He was a kid I met there. Just crazy about the game. Anthony wanted baseball cards. That was my... I don't know, my field, I guess. Baseball cards I could do.

"I went to a card shop and got three boxes of Topps cards. That weekend was the first time I met his family. I swear, that kid had the biggest eyes I've ever seen. We'd bought the House an outdoor pizza oven the previous summer. What kid doesn't like pizza, right? So that was our thing. Caroline, the kids, my brother-in-law and me. We were the pizza people, every third Saturday. We'd stop at Gagliano's and pick up all the ingredients. The kids got to make their own pizzas, choose their own toppings, the whole deal.

"Anthony couldn't care less. All the other kids were going nuts. They'd make smiley faces on the pizza with pepperoni or try something disgusting like peanut butter, but they weren't getting fast food delivered or thinking about treatments or needles or whatever. Anthony was sitting in a corner opening pack after pack and carefully sorting them. Amber brought him his own small pie. I don't remember what was on it, but she could barely distract him from the cards.

"I don't have kids. I don't know what a five-year-old is supposed to weigh, but he looked so damned small and he was so serious. He was just a kid, Nancy. Just so small... We always tried to respect the family's privacy and only spoke to them if they approached us or needed help with the food. I don't know why, but I went over and sat down next to him. The next thing I know, we're talking about the Rockies, his favorite players and stats.

"He was tenacious, like a dog with a bone. I just couldn't get him out of my head, you know? I went back a few times the next week and they invited me to their home when he got out of the hospital. I'd bring some rare cards or a jersey and we'd watch the Rockies on their TV. I arranged a few trips to Denver where we caught some live games.

"Things were going really well until they weren't. It went bad really quickly. I'd arranged for him to meet a couple of players the last time we were at Coors Field. Six months later he was gone. I couldn't take it again. I pulled myself through it once, but... it was just too much. Like a dick, I completely dropped them. That was the first time I'd seen Amber since the funeral. Seeing her, it just, I don't know... everything came spilling out. Anger at myself, at the doctors who let him die, at the world that didn't seem to give a crap. I know it's not... rational, or whatever, but it all just, I don't know."

Nancy was quiet for a moment and then reached over and took my free hand. "Take me back to your place. We'll order in some Chinese. Scott, you said you couldn't pull yourself through it again. Was... was there someone before Anthony?"

Pulling my hand from hers, I wiped my eyes and paused for a long time. "Caroline had another daughter. My eldest niece, Bobbi. She stayed at the House a lot towards the end. We try to give back, you know? Sort of for us, but also for her. She... look, can we talk about this later?"

"Of course. Tell me if you want me to back off, but do you try to keep this a family thing? Would it be too much or a little weird if I came down one day?"

Trying to smile, I looked over at her. "Saturday after next?"

Nancy took my hand again and took her phone out with the other hand. She hit some numbers with her thumb, waited and started speaking. "Alice? Saturday after next, clear my schedule." Pause. "Don't care. Make sure I'm back by seven in the morning and clear the day." Pause. "Alice, not trying to be a bitch, but just do it. Tell them I'll make it up to them." Pause. "Okay, thanks."

I knew that she was rehabbing her knee, but still, even I knew it was a big deal to just drop everything.

Our evening that night was quiet and more meaningful than any other to that point in our relationship. It had been a step forward and I believed that Nancy felt like she had broken through some sort of wall. Seeing me vulnerable and that emotional was important to her, but embarrassing for me.

When she came to my bed it was slow there as well. I knew that I was doomed. I wasn't having sex with her, I was making love. Convinced that there was no future with someone like Nancy, I still couldn't pull myself from her gravity. I was falling quickly and deeply for a woman that was out of my league, but my heart was ignoring my head. She could pull the plug on us at anytime, but I was staying in the game for as long as she'd let me.

The Saturday we went to the Ronald McDonald House, I saw Caroline's husband as we pulled into the parking lot. I grabbed three bags from Gagliano's from my trunk and Nancy grabbed two. I yelled over to him.

"Hey, Jim. Everyone inside?"

Looking over, he waved. "Morning. Yeah, I'm just grabbing some games." Two shopping bags in hand, he joined us as we entered. "Morning, Nancy. Thanks for coming."

She'd been unusually quiet all morning and that continued. "Morning. Thanks for letting me... I'm sorry if this is like a family thing or something."

"No worries. Everyone's welcome. Scott talked to you about Bobbi?"

"Yeah, a bit. I'm so sorry, Jim."

"Thanks. Listen, I know it can be awkward for people. Don't worry about it. You have any questions, just ask. It's okay."

She gave him a small smile and we made our way back to the kitchens. Caroline and the kids were back there cleaning off counter space and a couple of tables. Trish, my niece, was singing under her breath as she cleaned and her brother Pete grabbed the bags from his father and started unpacking everything.

Nancy and I gloved up and began washing produce. Tomatoes, cubanelle peppers, onions, arugula, and basil all got rinsed off and chopped or sliced. We cut up pepperoni, meatballs, and sausages next. Caroline started putting the sauce into pots and the kids divided the pizza dough into quarters.

Whenever we moved near each other, Nancy would touch me somehow. Rubbing my shoulder once and leaning against me a couple of times; I wasn't sure what was going on. Was she concerned I was getting maudlin due to my history there?

By the time parents and children staying at the Ronald McDonald House started coming down to the kitchen, Jim was loading the lump charcoal and wood into the pizza oven. We had an array of healthy snacks out, as well as juice, iced tea and lemonade.

Adopting my worst, over-the-top Italian accent, I addressed the growing small crowd. "Okay, for alla you thatsa never met me, I'ma Giuseppe." I looked at a little girl who was there the last time we had Pizza Day. "You'a I know. We metta before little girl?"

She pointed at me and spoke emphatically. "You're not 'Seppe, you're Scott!"

"How'd you get so smart, Laurie? Okay, my name is Scott. That was actually pretty offensive, wasn't it? I'm going to retire my cartoon Italian voice. So, here's how it works. Everyone gets their own dough. We have plenty. My super talented nephew Pete will be showing you all how to shape it out. If you're feeling a little crazy, he'll show you how to toss it. You can choose any toppings you want. We brought a bunch, but if you want to try something else, go for it. The fridges are right behind you.

"The guy outside is Jim. Here's one of our only rules; no one but Jim touches the oven. If you ask him, he'll show you how it works, but no one touches the oven but him. Cool?" I saw nodding heads. "Rule two. Parents or employees decide who uses knives. No arguments. Everything is pretty much chopped or cut already, so there shouldn't be a need. My beautiful niece over there will help with the dessert pizzas for afterwards. Talk to her when you're done with your lunch pizza.

"We all good? Okay, let's get started!"

There were ingredients, flour, specks of dough, and pizza crust everywhere. I spent my time cleaning and Nancy was a natural with the kids. Some of the parents recognized her and they talked to others. She was soon signing autographs, but for the first time since we'd met, she seemed to blow it off and was signing them and passing them back as quickly as possible.

If she was asked about golf, she'd find a two or three-word answer and then walk off to help another child with the pizza cutter or ladling out some sauce. There were a few times that I'd turn to see her staring at me. It was odd and a little disconcerting, but I was too busy to pay much attention.

Trish helped with the assembly of the dessert pizzas, loading up bowls with fruit slices, cinnamon, chocolate, jam and gummi bears. Kids who swore that they couldn't eat another bite of the savory pizzas seemed to magically find room for the dessert pizzas. We had a buddy system where they'd decorate half a pie and another kid the other half. As the pies were already quartered, they wound up being the perfect size for children.

It was an exhausting but fun afternoon. We spent an hour cleaning up, said goodbye to the staff and headed out. All of us thought of Bobbi as we were leaving. It was bittersweet. I shook Jim's hand, kissed my sister on the cheek and hugged the kids. Nancy and I were comfortably quiet most of the way back.

"Scott, I'm staying over tonight."

I just reached over and took her hand.

Caroline called me a few days later and seemed concerned. "Jim thinks that the pizza oven is going and we'll need to replace it. It's not burning as hot and there's lots of rust."

"Okay, not a problem. We can order a new one. I'll take it out of the company's community outreach budget."

"Jim and I can float the money if needed. I don't want to miss a week."

I knew how much the Pizza Days meant to her and I knew that she always stopped at the cemetery to see Bobbi the day after. "I'll get it taken care of, sis. Don't worry about it. There will be a new oven waiting for us next month."

She took a deep breath before replying. "Thanks, Scottie. I... It's just..."

"I know. I feel the same way. Listen, did Nancy seem, I don't know, a little weird? She was brushing off parents and kept staring at me and, well, it was strange."

"Strange from a guy's perspective, I guess. She didn't want to be the golf star. She wanted to be Nancy, the woman with her boyfriend helping some kids. And she kept looking at you because you're her boyfriend and you were surrounded by kids, who you were excellent with, by the way. You're good daddy material, little brother, and I think she was recognizing that."

"Oh, that's... well... okay then."

After we hung up, I got on the internet and ordered a new oven.