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haven’t visited her
since April.”
    “We had her over for
Thanksgiving. Doesn’t that count?”
    “She said it’s not the same
thing.”
    “Listen, little brother, I visit
our mother and the dentist twice a year. That’s all the pain one man can
endure. Anyway, forget Ma, I need you focused on Nancy.”
    “Who’s Nancy?”
    “Your date for this evening!”
    “The Hooter’s waitress?”
    “She’s not a Hooter’s waitress,
she’s a psychologist. I may have texted she has nice hooters. Jesus, try to
stay focused.”
    “Please don’t call me Jesus. I
may be a miracle of creation, but I can’t perform miracles.”
    “You can move out of my guest house;
that would be a miracle.” Vin winced as the heel of his right shoe caught something
beneath the seat. Reaching between his legs, he dragged out a Jet Blue
Airline inflatable life-jacket. “Expecting turbulence?”
    “You know I suffer from severe
hydrophobia.”
    “Don’t tell me this hunk of rust
you’re driving is amphibious?”
    “Don’t you ever read the news?
People die in canals every day. Florida’s a virtual death trap.”
    “Jacob, you’re my kid brother and
I love you, but you need serious help.”
    “Is that why you set me up with a
shrink?”
    “She’s cute and my patient
assures me she’s nice. Why don’t you give her a chance.”
    “If she’s so nice, how come she’s
not married?”
    “As a matter of fact, she was
engaged twice.”
    Jacob jammed on the
brakes—sending Vinnie’s forehead slamming into the glove box.
    “Ow, fuck! Are you crazy?” Vin
leaned over and punched his brother in the arm.
    “Ow.”
    “Drive the car, you lunatic.”
    “Two broken engagements are a red
flag. My Spidey sense detects a severe case of Androphobia.”
    “What the hell are you talking
about?”
    “The Hooter’s waitress has trust
issues.”
    “Psychologist!”
    “Take it from an expert—trust
issues are nearly as difficult to overcome as Apotemnophobia, and that took me
three years.”
    “What’s that? A fear of being
normal?”
    “It happens to be a fear of
amputees. Some doctor you are.”
    * * * *
*
     
    Nancy Beach followed her sister and
Jeanne through the east entrance of the bowling alley, her ears assaulted by
the echoes of rolling balls and crashing pins, her nose by the overpowering
scent of industrial cleaner mixed with cheap buttered popcorn and overcooked
pizza. “I can’t believe I actually let you talk me into this.”
    Lana reached back and pulled her
sister by the crook of her elbow so she was walking between herself and Jeanne.
“Don’t even think of running. And try to smile, it’s not an execution.”
    “There they are.” Jeanne waved in
the direction of the west entrance where Vincent and Jacob Cope were making
their way across the worn scarlet and violet carpet, the taller brother intercepted
by a perky brunette in a black and rose colored bowling shirt and matching
skirt.
    “He’s too tall for me.”
    “That’s his brother, my new
goolie doctor. Jacob’s the guy in the beard.”
    “He’s sort of cute, in a Danny
Devito meets Woodstock kind of way.”
    Across the room, Jacob eyes the
three women. “I thought you said she was cute? She looks like The Rock with tits.”
    “That’s my patient. Nancy’s the
blonde in the middle.”
    “Oh. Hey . . . she
really is cute.” Jacob checked his breath. “Damn burritos. Quick, I need gum!”
    Helen fished through her purse,
locating a breath mint. “Here, suck on this.”
    Jacob popped the white tablet in
his mouth as the two trios met at center court.
    Jeanne handled the introductions.
“Dr. Cope, this is my sweetheart, Lana Beach—”
    Jacob laughed—launching the
breath mint from his mouth, striking Nancy in the face. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”
    Vin rolled his eyes. “And this is
my little brother, Jacob.”
    Jacob shot him a look.
    “Sorry. I meant younger. He’s not
little. None of the Cope men are little.”
    Helen smirked.