A sweet elderly woman who had on an apron and a name tag walked over to us. “It’s okay,” I told her. “I think he can carry that stuff by himself. But thanks for offering to help.”
She stared up at me and looked puzzled. “What—wait, I came over here to tell you that you can’t have an open beer in here! We get most of our volunteers from the AA group that meets next door, and they wouldn’t be happy seeing a beer in here.” She frowned. “Or maybe they’d be too happy.”
I sighed. “Look, ma’am, we’ve only got about ten minutes to wrap this up and head back to the house before we have news trucks followin’ us. I only have about nine or ten beers left and I don’t know how many of these ‘AA’ people are around here—we just don’t have time for a party right now.” I downed the beer and handed the empty to her. I nodded at Rob and we moved over to the jeans. I pulled his jacket away from his waist and the old lady gasped when she saw the gun. I asked him, “So, what are you? About a 34?”
“Try 32.”
“We don’t have time for you to shove yourself into 32’s, you’ve probably already stretched out my jeans. There’s no shame in 34, you’ve got to be like 28 years old or something. Nobody expects you to be in good shape at your age.”
He started to argue but I threw some jeans at him and moved on to the shorts. After I handed him some more shit I tapped the face of my watch and we headed to the cash register. The same old lady rang up everything and said, “That is going to be thirty dollars, Sirs.”
I looked at Rob. “Does that sound right to you?”
He looked at the huge pile of clothes. “I’m not sure, my wife buys everything for me.”
I shrugged and handed her a hundred. “I buy everything online and I hate to admit it but the credit card bill goes to my father’s office.” I wondered if that was going to keep happening. I told the lady, “Keep the change, it sounds like those AA people need the money.”
That made her smile and she said, “Thank you! That will mean a lot to them.”
I looked over my shoulder at her as we walked out. “Well, I don’t think they should be denied a beer bash just because I’m in a hurry.”
I pulled Rob’s sunglasses off his head and put them on. “I’ll drive back to the house, okay?” I climbed into the driver’s seat and Rob shook his head. “It’s okay, Secret Agent Man, I’ve driven in a lot worse shape.”
“I’m going to drive. I have the keys, and—”
“And what?”
“You’re sitting in what looks to be a late 1990’s Jetta.” He pointed to the other side of the parking lot. “Our car—your car, is over there.” I walked over and got in the passenger seat and Rob drove us back.
We got back to the house and I was relieved that there wasn’t a single truck with a satellite dish parked on the street. The same cop that had given us shit earlier pushed a barricade out of the way and let us in. I tipped my beer to him in a salute but he just scowled at me. Rob pulled the stack of clothes off of my lap and we headed upstairs to my room. By the time we got to my door Spence, Dave, and Brent were tagging along. I loaded the bong and looked around. “Where’s my media guy? Where’s Levi?”
Spence shrugged and lit the bong. “Last time I saw him he had a phone in each ear and he was jumping up and down crushing his laptop.”
I took the bong from him and said, “Maybe Ashley was right, maybe he does have potential.” I exhaled and walked over to my dresser as Dave and Rob spread our purchases on the bed and they sorted through them.
Dave held up the Call Me Maybe? tee and nodded. “This must have been chosen by you, Foster. I like it, it’s old enough to be back in or vintage or something.” He grabbed a pair of faded yellow board shorts out of the pile and handed the clothes to Rob. “This will be your new look.” Dave frowned a little. “But you’re not going to pass for an undergrad, even in that stuff. Say lots of sarcastic and pretentious things and openly scoff people—you’re a little old but you may pass as a grad student.”
I got out of the suit and pulled on some boxer briefs and a pair of lacrosse shorts. I sat down on the couch with a beer and the bong in front of me. Spence patted me on the head and threw his arm over my shoulders. He studied my face and asked, “Rough day, little camper?” I sighed and downed the beer. He tried to sound cheerful and said, “Well, the day is still young.” He walked over to the window and frowned. “I see a lot of reporters and cameramen down there on the sidewalk.”
Rob walked over and pulled the curtains shut and we all sat around in the dark until the door opened and Levi walked in. He hit the light switch on the wall and said, “Okay, I came up here to give you a quick update. We set up a hotline outside of the school switchboard to field calls—interview requests and whatnot. Anything urgent will be forwarded to me and I’ll deal with it. And by the way, you two,” he pointed at me and Rob. “I let you guys out of here for an hour—I tried to be a nice guy, and this is what I get in return.” He handed me one of his phones and I studied the screen. I motioned for Rob and he turned a little pale when he saw it. The pic was taken from the street in front of the convenience store and was a crystal-clear shot of me smoking the joint and Rob walking out with the beer. “You two are just lucky that that was taken by somebody in the media relations department who I had tail you. I thought maybe someone should be keeping an eye on your little road trip. And I understand that you, Foster, harassed a little old lady at the thrift store—something about giving beer to alcoholics, flashing a gun at her and God only knows what else!”
I grabbed another beer and sat back down on the couch. “I may have made...mistakes? But that was my last shot at freedom until all of this blows over! I mean, I’m pretty much under house arrest, now.” I turned to Spence and asked, “Have you taken care of my classes?”
He nodded. “The word’s gotten out and I think they’d prefer you lay low. The only instructors who said it was okay for you to show up were your water polo coach and your political science professor. The general consensus was that you hardly ever show up for class anyway—why should this week be any different? I’ve fielded all of the text messages that I can—you do need to call your mother, and at some point you’re going to have to talk to your father or his people. And there was another call from the White House—you might get Rob in trouble if you don’t return that one at some point.”
Rob looked flustered and said, “That’s a call you just can’t dodge, Foster. I mean, if you don’t call him he’s just going to send somebody here. And that’s one visit from the Secret Service you don’t want.”
Dave was flipping through the channels so fast I could barely keep up, but other than some reruns and the Home Buying Network the news conference was the only thing on the screen. Rob hung up his suit in my closet and was looking around. “Foster, where’s your underwear? I guess that’s the one thing they wouldn’t sell, or I wouldn’t buy, in a thrift store.”
Dave shook his head and pointed at the faded board shorts. “Put those on and that t shirt. Wearing underwear under board shorts is a common mistake on the East Coast. You don’t need ‘em.”
Rob pulled on the shorts and looked down. “I dunno fellas, I mean these things are worn pretty thin. You can see...everything. I saw Foster put something on under his shorts.”
Spence nodded. “He’s the exception, Rob. One layer of fabric just isn’t enough to... contain things. If he doesn’t do that then nobody else has a shot at picking up women.”
I shrugged. “It’s true, Rob. They took a house vote and everything. Besides, these are lacrosse shorts, not a bathing suit.” I looked around the room. “And you may want to go swimming. We don’t have anything else to do, we may as well have a pool party.” Everybody nodded and split up to change and organize things. I started throwing stuff into a backpack and at the last minute grabbed some sunscreen. I showed the bottle to Rob. “You should probably use a lot of this, you’re unbelievably white, Bo.”
He held on to the sunscreen but added his
gun to the backpack. “Just in case,” he explained. “We don’t want anybody crashing the party.”
We went downstairs and out the doors to the backyard. I pointed at a table in the shade of the house and we sat down to wait for everybody else. “So,” I asked Rob, “do you and the wife have some wild parties in suburban DC? Does everybody just get naked and crazy on Apple Blossom Court or wherever you live?”
Rob shook his head. “I wish! When we first moved in we found out the couple next door were both CIA, and I figured they’d be a lot of fun. Turns out CIA people only know how to spy, they don’t know shit about entertaining guests. The last New Year’s Eve party they threw was so boring I fell asleep at ten.” He looked around the backyard and whistled. “I can’t believe this place—the pool, hot tub, volleyball court, basketball court, it’s got it all!”
I nodded. “This setup was one of the main reasons I pledged this frat, just don’t tell the other brothers that.” I pointed out the fraternity houses on either side of our house and the sorority house behind us. “It’s pretty private back here, but we’re close enough to the other houses that you can always find a good party within stumblin’ distance.”
Rob looked around and said, “It should be okay for you to stay out here for a while, the trees, bushes and fences will make it hard for people to get to you back here.”
Spence and Dave showed up lugging a keg between them. They set it next to the one that was already chilled and tapped. Spence said, “We let everybody know to come down here and help Foster deal with his crisis. Ella has some of her crew delivering pizzas and whatnot. She said she wished she could be here for you, but she’s taking delivery on a Jag or some kind of car like that this afternoon. And Foster, I spoke to your stepdad, he’s with your mom in LA. He said she’s suffering from ‘uncontrollable fits of laughter’, and she’ll call you when she’s able to talk.”
“What about my brother?” I wondered how he was taking all of this.
“He’s fine, he’s on a flight out there to be with them until this settles down.” He looked around at the guys wandering out on to the patio and lowered his voice. “That other guy, you know—”
Rob raised an eyebrow. “POTUS?”
I looked at him and shook my head. “You just wanted to say that, to be all like Secret Service impressive and shit. And the last time I saw him he told me to call him ‘Chuck’. But I’m not so sure he’s calling me to just say howdy or ask me if I’m doing my homework.”
Levi walked up to us. He was still doing his electronic juggling act but he had changed into shorts and a t shirt. He pointed at Dave and said, “I borrowed these clothes from him, I figured I may as well be comfortable while the vultures tear me apart.” He walked over to the keg and I noticed the back of his t shirt said I screw guys who screw girls. Brent walked out and grinned as he headed toward us. He was wearing cargo shorts that were so low on his hips I thought he was going to trip over them. I couldn’t help but notice he had no tan line.
Everybody except Rob started drinking and a few joints were passed around. The sun was bright and the air was warm, I moved over to a lounge chair and watched the crowd around me. All of the beer and bong hits, not to mention Brent’s mystery pills, were helping me relax despite watching the clusterfuck of my father’s life play out on TV. Rob and Dave walked past and stopped long enough for Rob to hand me sunglasses and a baseball cap. He said, “Put these on, if somebody tries to take a pic this is all you need for a disguise—you guys all have the same body, most of you are wearing those mesh shorts, and not one of you can walk in a straight line.” Spence and Levi settled into the chairs on either side of me and Rob kept a close eye on things as he and Dave joined a game of volleyball in the pool. His attention was divided between the game and guarding me, and his head became the primary target of spiked balls after everybody realized it.
Dave finally came out of the pool and joined us on the patio. He pulled up a chair for himself and one for Rob. “The Secret Service guy may not realize it yet, but with that volleyball smacking his head about a thousand times he probably already has a concussion.” I waved at Rob to join us and he made his way up the ladder. When he stepped onto the patio most of the people on our side of the pool went silent. “Wow,” Dave commented, “he may as well have just wrapped his junk in Saran Wrap.” Rob realized everybody was staring at him and looked down. He tugged at the front of the shorts and laid facedown on his chair.
I smiled and said, “That went even better than I thought it would when I saw those in the thrift store. Those things are one thread away from disappearing into thin air. You gotta love it when a plan comes together.” Rob gave me the finger and Dave handed him a bottle of water.
The girls from the sorority started to show up and Rob raised his head. “Jesus, they could all be swimsuit models.”
Spence nodded. “A lot of them are.”
“Where are they coming from? I mean, I can’t believe they just walked past all those cops and reporters without causing a riot!” The way Rob was staring at all of them I figured the reporters could just walk right up and kidnap me and he’d never notice.
“They’re coming from their house.” I pointed at a shadowy spot in the landscaping at the back of the yard. About that time my friend Brittany popped out of the hedges wearing nothing but three square inches of swimsuit. I grinned and waved and she poured a beer from the keg then headed our way.
I sat up and she sat down next to me and said, “Do you know how hard it is to spot one of you guys in a crowd? It’s like trying to recognize one duck out of a whole herd.” I nodded and handed her a joint somebody had lit. I introduced her to Levi and Rob. Levi came out of his media fog long enough to nod at her. Britt studied Rob’s back and said, “You may want to let me put some lotion on your back, I’m not sure albino animals who live in caves are even quite that white. And those shorts are doing nothing to protect your ass, I can see right through them. Slide ‘em down and I’ll rub some lotion on those cheeks, too. Or sit up and I’ll start on your back.”
Rob moaned and shook his head. “I’m so ha—so, you know—I can’t sit up right now.”
Britt shrugged. “Okay, but it looks like your face is already burned, you’re completely red.”
Dave threw an empty plastic cup at Levi and asked, “So, how long do you think the press is going to keep us stranded here in paradise? I mean, this isn’t a bad way to spend an afternoon, but after a couple of days of this the bros will get restless.”
Britt pointed at the hedges. “Well, anybody can come and go through the back gate.”
Dave studied Rob and said, “I’m not sure when I’ll get tired of hanging out here.” He was just about drooling and I threw an empty cup at his forehead.
Levi surveyed the situation. “If somebody figures out that gate’s there it could cause problems. I’m gonna tell the police to have somebody keep an eye on that house, too.”
Rob looked at me and put his hand out. “That reminds me, Foster. We could have one other problem. Give me my phone so I can contact the office.” He tapped out a text and sat up in his chair. He looked down at the front of his shorts. “Talking about work seems to have...solved my problem.”
I watched Levi tapping away on his laptop and asked him, “Didn’t you destroy that thing like an hour ago?”
He nodded and explained, “I had another intern run a couple more over here. Ashley keeps about twenty of them synced and ready to roll in her office.” He looked sincere and added, “I hope this anger management retreat works out for her, I’m beginning to understand her cynicism and hostility.” He started barking Mandarin Chinese into one of the phones and we all looked a little impressed.
The food showed up along with a few more kegs and the party seemed to be rolling along pretty well, until the cop who had given me and Rob shit this morning appeared in front of me. “You could at least put that marijuana out when I’m talking to you,” he said sternly.
I shook my head and
passed the joint to Britt. “So, ‘sup Officer Buzzkill?”
As he stared down at me I realized he wasn’t bad looking, it was just his attitude that needed improvement. “Okay, I’ll tell you ‘sup. You need to turn down the music and get this party under control. We’ve never had so many noise complaint calls in the middle of the afternoon.”
Spence spoke up. “I can’t believe that the neighbors are complaining. Their parties aren’t as fun but they’re just as loud.”
The cop shook his head. “It’s not them complaining. It’s the reporters, they can’t make any live reports with all this noise in the background.”
I looked at Spence and asked, “You know what to do, right?” Spence nodded and pulled up an app on his phone. The decibel level from the huge speakers on the patio suddenly doubled. The cop threw his hands up in the air and walked away.
Brent walked over to me and asked, “How are you holding up, Foster. Do you need any chemical adjustments?”
“Bro, between the pills you gave me, and everything else in my system, I think I’m okay—I’m actually fairly fuckin’ happy. I’m in the happiest place on the planet, Fosterland.”
He nodded and handed me a little plastic box. “I’ve put some different things in here to keep you happy. I think you’ll recognize most of them but if you any questions let me know. Just don’t mix the red ones with the yellows, or the white capsules with the green, and if a yellow one hits you funny then take an orange tablet. Okay?”
I nodded and picked something at random and washed it down with a fresh cup of beer.
Foster's Fall (Foster's Life) Page 6