THE BRO-MAGNET by Lauren Baratz-Logsted

says this so loud, the neighbors must’ve heard her. Certainly Alice did.
    “Well, I…”
    “Aw, I’m sorry, Johnny.” Dawn covers my hand with hers like she did earlier. Come to think of it, that little move of hers coupled with her “That’s so cute” about my din-din story coupled with the fact that it was her idea to have Alice have us over at the same time in the first place – all of that’s what gave me the impression that maybe my invitation would be welcome.
    “I already have a boyfriend,” Dawn goes on. “Actually we’re sort of engaged to be engaged, which is another reason I’m grateful for you not taking advantage of me at the wedding. Imagine how awkward that would have been, me having my usual pregnancy scare only this time also not knowing if the baby’s my almost fiance’s or yours? It’d be like something on General Hospital !”
    Ouch. I just got rejected by someone I never really wanted to go out with in the first place, at least not for anything to do with her personally.
    Then I look over at Alice and for once she doesn’t look annoyed with me. On the contrary, she looks like she feels sorry for me.
    Pissed. Sorry. Pissed. Sorry. In a world where Alice is mostly just mad at me, I’ll take looking like a pathetic loser if it means she stops being mad for a few minutes.
    * * *
    Dawn’s gone and I’m getting ready to head off.
    “Can I use your…?” I gesture with my hand down the hallway.
    “Sure thing,” Billy says, so I go to hit the head before hitting the road.
    Then, as Billy and I are saying our final goodbyes, standing at the door trading a few last comments about the Mets, Alice heads down the hallway. I hear a lock click, followed thirty seconds later by…
    “ Fucking Johnny! ”
    “Oh, shit,” Billy says. “You leave the lid up on the toilet?”
    I nod.
    “She’s so skinny, her ass gets wet when that happens. You better get out of here while you still can.”
     

Men at Play
     
    In my mind, I’m thinking in my best bass voice imitation: I’m in the front row!
    Steve Miller called me up the week before.
    “You’re nor going to believe this,” he said.
    I was on a job at the time, standing on a ladder, cell phone in hand.
    “What?” I said. “Your wife wants to paint the dining room a different color for the fourth time?”
    “Good one.” He laughed. “You know you’re a very funny guy?”
    “So I’ve been told.”
    “Katie’s happy enough with the dining room, at least for now. She loves the aqua.”
    People always do.
    “No,” Steve went on. “That case I told you about? The burglar with a heart of gold?”
    “Yeah?”
    “I won! I followed your advice to the letter, and I won!”
    “Hey, that’s fantastic.”
    “Well, the opposing attorney didn’t think so. You should have seen her face!”
    “I’ll bet.”
    “Anyway, the reason I’m calling is: About that Opening Day game…”
    I hadn’t really wanted to go to a game with Steve Miller nor did I want to sacrifice a half day’s work, and I even resisted for a long time, but then I asked myself: Aren’t I my own boss, and isn’t one of the perks of that the ability to say screw work for the day and just go play? Plus, when in my life am I ever going to get to sit in a seat that costs more than my last long-weekend vacation?
    So here I am, and I keep trying to pump myself up by telling myself in that bass voice: I’m in the front row!
    Which is inevitably followed by a smaller interior voice saying: Too bad it’s for the fucking Yankees, the World Champs – how annoying is that?
    That’s right. Here I am at the home opener – Steve had kept calling it Opening Day but the Yanks were on the road for the season opener so this is just the home opener – at Yankee Stadium, which is another annoying thing. The Mets have to play at Citi Field now but of course the fucking Yankees get to keep the name of their stadium, even after the new stadium opened, even after the