I turned, uncertain. William wore a shit-eating grin. “Remember,” he said. “Go for the rich Manhattan lawyer.”
I followed his gaze to where Amy and Jennifer surveyed the crowd from the arched entry. Beside them stood a tall, preppy-looking guy in khakis, loafers, and a blue button-down. Amy wore a waist-length faux-rabbit-fur jacket, tight blue jeans, and black boots. I didn’t think it possible, but she looked better than she had in her bikini. I’d had two glasses of liquid courage at this point, and quickly drained my third glass and poured another while William kept a close watch, I suppose to see how I handled myself. Then I slipped through the crowd.
“Hey,” I said, offering the women my best smile. “You came.”
“Sorry we didn’t make it to the game,” Jennifer said.
“We won,” I said.
“I can see that.” She turned to the guy, who looked bored and largely disinterested. “This is my boyfriend, Scott.”
He gave me a half-hearted handshake. Because I was feeling magnanimous and emboldened, I said, “Can I get you a beer?”
Scott shook his head. “Jennifer and I are on our way out. Can Amy hang with you?” His tone sounded like he was dropping off his child at the sitter. Amy looked embarrassed, uncomfortable, and humiliated all at once, and I deduced she had not willingly come to Village Host. More likely she did not have much say in the matter, and with her being from New York, I was the only potential game in town.
“Yeah, sure. No problem.” I turned to Amy. “I’d be happy to drive you home. Come on in and have a beer. You’ll like these New Yorkers. They’ll make you feel like you’re at home.” I said the last sentence while glancing at Scott.
Amy smiled. Then she and Jennifer hugged, and we said our goodbyes. I turned to Amy, still a bit uncertain, but she alleviated any concern with one question. “You said something about beer?”
I brought her into the crowd, poured her a beer, and grabbed a few slices of pizza. I would have sat at a table in the corner, but Vincenzo having a cute young female was a novelty, and William had apparently told Mike and everyone else that Amy was the girl next door and soon to be rich. My sister, who rarely stayed long at the Village Host—neither softball nor beer were her thing—was the first to come over. Mike followed. Turned out Amy had grown up in Queens, one of the boroughs where Mike had once lived. Mike and my sister asked Amy about law school and where she would be working in Manhattan, and she and Mike discussed clubs in the city where Mike used to hang out. Common ground seemingly relaxed her, and me. I was grateful for the conversation, but also worried that Mike, or more likely my sister, would spill the beans that I’d just graduated from high school, but both either were adept in this situation or never thought to bring it up.
“You’re a Yankees fan then,” Mike said.
“Born and raised,” Amy said with pride. “I wore a Yankees pinstriped jersey home from the hospital. I have three older brothers and they’re also die-hard fans. We go to about twenty games a year.”
As she talked with Mike and the other New Yorkers, Amy’s accent thickened. “Father” became “Fawther.” “Billy Martin （Mawtin） is coming back, that’s the rumor in the Bronx, and he’ll get them playing great baseball again. Guidry and Munson will take them back to the World Series.”
“They may get there,” I said, “but I don’t see them beating the Pittsburgh Pirates with Willie Stargell, Dave Parker, and Bert Blyleven.”
“You watch. Yankees will sweep them.”
“Not going to happen,” I said. “They’d have to get by Baltimore first.”
She stuck out a hand. “Big words. How about a bet?”
I took her hand. “How am I going to recover when I win?” I said.
“You better figure out how you’re going to pay when you lose. What do you want to bet?”
“Ten bucks,” I said.
“Ten bucks? What, are you scared?”
By now several of the Northpark Yankees had become interested in the conversation and made clucking noises and uttered unflattering words about my manhood.
“A hundred bucks,” Amy said.
Since I could not envision how this bet would ever come to fruition, I agreed. “A hundred bucks,” I said to a roar of delight from the people around our table.
The conversation flowed easily now, and I went from thinking I’d never see this woman again to imagining going to Yankees games with her and her brothers. I fantasized about living in New York City with a big-time corporate lawyer. As I said, an all-guys high school didn’t exactly foster realistic expectations of relationships between men and women.