“Wanna open up about it?”
“Nope,” Parker said.
“No problem. I’m here for you.”
Nick watched Parker as he ran across the field to gather his gear for further practice.
“His parents are in prison. They were addicts and had a meth house,” Aiden said.
“Wow. That’s a tough one,” Nick said.
“Yeah. Well, I’m going to grab my gear,” Aiden said, just before running across the field.
“Sounds good.”
Nick took notes on each of the kids’ talents as he assisted Coach Don during the practice. He determined that they all had something to offer the team, and that several were blessed with extraordinary athletic talents. They could even secure college scholarships if directed properly. “They just need the right guidance,” he said to himself, “and to stay out of trouble in their later school years when trouble always rears its ugly head.”
***
After practice, Nick again walked up to Aiden and Parker.
“Hey, it was great practicing with you guys today. I can see you’ve both got a lot of talent. Aiden, you’re a natural out there. Great arm and great throw. And Parker, wow! You run faster than most of the guys I know on the college fields. Keep it up, boys, and you’ll make names for yourselves.”
Aiden looked at him, “Thanks Coach. Your words mean a lot to us.”
“Yeah, thanks Coach. See you tomorrow,” Parker added.
Nick watched them with a smile as they left the field and climbed into a white van that was waiting for them in the parking lot. He wanted to help those two kids, and he wanted to find out more about the Collins’ Foster Home and about the other kids there. He recalled success stories from Barbara Collins’ speech at the luncheon. “Hopefully they’ll find success,” he thought.
He watched them climb into the van and close its door. Then his eyes turned to its driver. A woman. Drawing closer, he realized that he knew the woman: Piper McCoy.
“Wow! What a coincidence.” His eyes opened widely as he took a deep breath.
“More than a coincidence,” he huffed as he began strolling towards the parking lot. He had to say hello. This was too much. This was….meant to be. His pace picked up as he watched her turn her head and look at him. Tilting her chin up with a slight smile, she acknowledged him and backed the van out of its parking spot. Then she changed gears into forward and drove away.
“Nice to see you too,” he whispered.
As he walked back towards the field, his thoughts moved away from Piper and back to the kids. His first day on the new job had been great. “This isn’t even like work. It’s fun. I’m helping them and, actually, they’re helping me.”
Chapter 6
Must Have Won the Lottery
Tanner plugged Nick’s new address into the navigator on his cell phone before leaving his condo, just west of Orange Bay. He tossed his overnight bag in the bed of this truck, hopped into the front seat, and backed out of the parking lot. Before long he was on Bayfront Drive. Soon he saw the O’Brien home, and Bob in the driveway smoking a cigar. He pulled up next to him and parked.
“Dude! Long time, no see. What’s the good word?” He asked as he climbed out of his truck.
“Whole lotta nada. Looking forward to tipping a few. Brought the cigars. Swisher Sweets.” Bob took a long pull on his cigar.
“How’s that Swisher?”
“Sweet.” Bob exhaled, blowing smoke from both his mouth and nose. His get-up was amusing; always played the redneck part well, even though he was originally from Michigan. This day he donned a cowboy hat, snakeskin boots, a button-down plaid shirt, and a pair of khaki shorts, which exposed his knobby knees.
“Nice duds. You kill me, man.” Tanner laughed as he grabbed his bag from the bed of his truck. Bob pulled what he could from the end of his cigar before throwing it to the ground and smashing it with his boots. He didn’t appear to have an overnight bag.
“Didn’t want to walk into the McMansion alone,” he said. “First I thought he won the lottery. Then I googled his mom while waiting for you. She’s a big time CEO now. Probably should have worn my best boots and ironed my shirt.” Bob laughed, exposing his crooked teeth and a piece of tobacco. “But, nah. That would be takin’ it too far.”
“Far upgrade to the old crib, huh?” Tanner said. He glanced down at Bob’s worn boots and said, “No worries on the get up; you know that Nick’s a casual dude. It’s all about flip flops, cowboy boots, and good times.”
Tanner considered his own tousled blonde mop, wrinkled fishing shirt, and flip flops to be fine attire in the home of his good friend. At least he’d washed. He was all about cleanliness. Unlike Bob. When they reached the front door, he knocked. A dog barked. “Must be Chipper,” he said to Bob.
A couple of minutes later, Nick opened the door, wearing an outfit almost identical to Tanner’s. His well-coiffed dark hair contrasted his recently whitened teeth. Tanner made a note to whiten his own teeth.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, “Come on in.”
They followed Nick into the house.
“This place is awesome,” Tanner said.
“Thanks.” Nick replied, still walking toward the kitchen.
As they reached the kitchen, Tanner watched Bob checking himself out in the mirror on the wall. There was a wink just before he said, “Hey, I gotta hit the head. Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure, it’s down the hallway to the right,” Nick said as he pointed to the hallway.
Tanner followed Nick around the island in the center of the kitchen where both found a swivel bar chair to sit on. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Nick’s mom as she came out of a back room and walked into the kitchen.
“Good to see you, Tanner. I heard another voice. Was that Bobnoxious?”
“Yeah, he’s in the bathroom. Good to see you too. Love your new house.”
“Thank you.”
Tanner swiveled his chair to get a glimpse of the view outside. “Great view!” He could see a flock of doves as they flew together in the distant sky over the bay.
“We really like it too. It’s peaceful here. Can I get you something to drink? We have soda, orange juice, apple juice, beer, or bottled water.”
“I’ll take a soda,” Tanner answered, wanting to impress Nick’s mom and trying not to seem anxious for beer, though he knew he’d have a few later, just to be social.
“That works for me too. Thanks, Mom.”
She grabbed two bottles of soda out of the refrigerator and placed them in front of Tanner and Nick on the kitchen island.
“Thanks, Mrs. O’Brien,” Tanner said.
“You’re always welcome, Tanner. Well, I’ve got to finish a report. It was good seeing you,” she said. “I’ll be back in a little while to say hello to Bob.”
“Nice seeing you again too.”
Tanner watched her head back into her home office. She seemed different than she was in their old neighborhood, more attentive to a professional appearance. In the past, he’d seen her donning much more casual outfits.
“My mom’s still the same, always working, traveling, or in her home office. Married to her job and its golden handcuffs.” Nick said.
“Well her success shows,” Tanner said. “This place is awesome!”
Nick nodded with a half-smile, “Yeah, but you can’t take it with you.”
Tanner smiled at Nick. He understood Nick’s response.
“Have you tried out the church just up the road? I see it’s a fellowship church in the same denomination as ours. I wouldn’t mind going to the service there tomorrow morning.” Tanner said.
“No, I haven’t been there. My mom doesn’t do church, but I’m game.”
A few minutes later, Bob entered the room and plopped himself down in a bar chair. “This is good stuff, buddy,” he said as he looked around. “Nice crib.”
Nick stood up
and went to the fridge. “Beer, soda, or water.”
“Really, Nick, you have to ask? C’mon.”
Nick grabbed three beers and handed two to his friends. “You guys bring your swim trunks?”
“Nope, but don’t worry. I’ll keep the shorts on.”
“Good!”
“I’ve got mine,” Tanner said. He got up and said, “I’ll be right back.”
When Tanner returned, Nick led them onto the patio.
“I’m gonna fire up the grill in a little while. We have burgers, dogs, and chicken. You name it and I’ll cook it. Oh, and check this out.” He opened a large cooler, stuffed to the brims with waters, sodas, beers and ice.
“Cool. I’ll eat what you’re eating. What’s good for you is good for me,” Tanner said as he plopped himself on a chaise lounge and looked over at Bob.
“Yeah, I’m game buddy. Whatever you feel like cooking. I’m drinking.”
Bob paused for a few moments before adding, “Hey, tomorrow I’m going bungee jumping with Flypaper and some girls he met last weekend. Nothing like bungee jumping in the woods. You guys wanna come?”
“No thanks. Doing something with Marlis tomorrow,” Tanner said.
“Yeah, thanks but I’ve got other plans tomorrow. I might be game some other time,” Nick added.
Bob started peeling off his cowboy boots, which exposed a yellowed pair of socks and his sweaty calves. He rolled off his sticky socks and freed himself from his shirt, before removing his cowboy hat. That exposed his dark brown hair, which was matted down on top of his head and matched the patch of fuzz in the center of his pasty white chest.
After standing up and stretching, he grabbed a couple of pool floats and jumped into the pool, making a hearty splash. “Wonder what the poor people are doing today? Ha! Yo, Tanner. Can you hand me my beer and hat?”
Tanner handed him his stuff and caught a glimpse of his dirty fingernails. Sharing the same water with Bob was going to be painful, but he’d have to suck it up. Chlorine. Thank God for that.
He sat back down on the chaise and guzzled down a beer. It tasted good chilled, like liquid gold. He’d have to pace himself though. Didn’t want to get drunk. “Just a few beers,” he told himself, “Just a few.”
But that wouldn’t be easy with Bobnoxious around. The last time he saw Bob, he was drunk on a boat in a lightning storm. He recalled that night and the way it had started out as so many nights with Bob do. With alcohol. Alcohol probably fueled Bob’s plan.
Tanner pictured him on his patio that night as he said, “We’re always talking about old stories. Regurgitation blows. Let’s make some new stories. I’ll fire up the boat. You with me for some night skiing?” Lightning wasn’t in the plans, but Bob probably figured that the lightning was a bonus. “Now he can tell a story about fools,” he thought. “Fools lucky to be alive.”
A few minutes later, he jumped in the pool, followed by Nick. The three basked at opposite ends and listened to country music, which blared from the patio speakers. The beers started flowing and Bob started telling stories about Flypaper, which cracked Nick and Tanner up. Tanner had heard some of the stories before, but Bob’s new tweaks made them better.
Suddenly Bob had a serious look. “Dude, I hope you’re planning a gig here. This place is a chick magnet with serious scoring potential.”
Nick laughed, “Yeah, I’m thinking about it.”
“Well think harder, pun intended,” Bob said as he pulled himself out of the pool and strolled over to a palm tree, where he relieved himself.
“So classy. At least he didn’t do it in the pool,” Tanner thought.
***
“Barefoot Bluejean Night” by Jake Owen was the last song Tanner remembered hearing. A cheeseburger was the last thing he remembered eating. What he couldn’t remember when he woke up on the chaise lounge by the pool was the number of beers he’d drunk. Or when Bob and Nick left. Or where Nick told him he’d be sleeping.
He walked into the house and spotted the time: 3:13 a.m. Creeping through the kitchen and towards the front door, his steps were silent on the marble floors. The stairs jutted out in front of him as he approached the front door, and he turned to his left and climbed up them.
No one was occupying a room halfway down the hallway. Now he was in the bed in that room.
“Just a few beers. Yeah, right. Just a few beers.” He felt disgusted with himself as he slipped himself under the covers of a queen-size bed and fell asleep.
Chapter 7
Lowly Women
Nick woke up the next morning, showered, and put on a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. He headed down the stairs and out the front door for the paper. That’s when he noticed that only Tanner’s truck was still in the driveway. Bob’s was gone. He walked back into the house and into the kitchen and looked out onto the patio. Tanner was no longer on the chaise, yet his shoes were by its side. “Good. Must be upstairs sleeping.”
“I need to go to church,” he thought to himself.
His mom strolled out of the downstairs’ master bedroom a short while later. She’d already jogged, showered, and appeared ready for the day.
“Top of the morning to you, Mom,” Nick said with a smile.
“Top of the morning to you too!” She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out some orange juice.
“Would you like to join us? We’re going to church today, to the big fellowship church just down the road.”
“No, no thanks. I have work to do,” she said as she sat down on one of the swivel bar stools along the kitchen island.
“Are you sure, Mom? It’s always good to learn about God. I’ve learned a lot at church.”
“Well that’s special Nick, but I’m not a fan of the church. There’s too much corruption, too many cover-ups, and too few women in leadership positions.”
“Mom, I know there are some bad people in the church, but they shouldn’t ruin the whole bunch. Believe me. I’ve learned a lot from the good ones.”
“For what?” She stammered, “How are you going to use this knowledge? Church knowledge certainly doesn’t pay the bills. Plus they expect you to give them ten percent of your salary in tithes, which would be around $1.2 million dollars annually for us. There could be a better use of your time, and your money. I’d rather give my hard-working employees raises.” She paused and added, “The average pay for median employees in my organization is $35,000. I’d like to raise that to $40,000, but of course that would go against our board’s desires to keep payroll costs to a minimum.”
Nick pulled out a calculator and said, “So you make just over 342 times the average worker in your company? And if you gave them the $5,000 raise, you’d be making three hundred times the average worker. Seems a bit much.”
“Oh, Nick, that’s the norm in U.S. firms. Look it up,” she snapped. “Plus, I work harder than my employees and I’ve put in my time!”
Nick thought, “Not 342 times harder,” but he decided to keep that quiet. She seemed testy, so he figured he’d get back to the original topic.
“Mom, you should know that it’s important to learn about Jesus.”
“Jesus,” she sighed, “that famous myth.”
“I thought you said you believed in him,” Nick said, feeling a great sense of disappointment. Now he knew why she’d never brought him to church.
“Yeah, I believe he lived. I just don’t believe everything they’ve written about him, such as how he walked on water, turned water to wine, and turned a few loaves of bread and pieces of fish into enough food for thousands. That stuff was written later by people to perpetuate the myth and control the masses through religion. People needed controls in those days.”
Nick’s heart sank. Deep down, he knew she was wrong, but standing up to her was difficult. He respected her in so many ways, and her worldly knowledge far exceeded his.
“When I was your age, I believed in Jesus too. And
when I was younger than that, I also believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. My mom taught me to be a believer and we went to church every Sunday all throughout my childhood.
Then I went to college and started reading books by philosophers. Famous ones like Friedrich Nietzsche. That’s when I realized that Jesus is only a myth whose persona was developed by men after he died to control people. Look around the world. Most wars are waged over religion. Consider World War II, the battles in Northern Ireland, the genocides, and all of the terrorist attacks by Muslim extremists. It’s all about religion and religious control. The world would be a better place without religion and religious controls. We don’t need religion anymore.”
“That’s your opinion and I have mine.” he said. “I’m still going to church. I’m not going to risk my salvation and I wish you wouldn’t risk yours.”
His mom shook her head and smiled, “Please Nick. Get realistic. Kids in their twenties are always so idealistic and liberal. They all want to save the world. By the time you reach your forties, you understand the way the world works, so you shift to conservatism. You can’t save the world so you worry about saving yourself.”
“Mom, can you imagine a world in which everyone’s out for themselves? It would be an ugly place, devoid of empathy and full of selfishness. The greatest example of selflessness is in Jesus. Look at the way he died for us. Look at the sacrifices he made for us so that we can go to Heaven. You do believe he died on the cross, right? You do believe that he suffered, right?
“Yes, there’s proof of that from Roman and Jewish historians,” she responded, “Even Nietzsche acknowledges his death on the cross, yet goes on to say that he was merely a teacher and a political criminal who simply fought against the world order of his time.”
“You’re scaring me Mom. I’m worried about you.”
“Please, Nick, grow up! Your beliefs only reflect your age and your lack of knowledge. Read Nietzsche and the other philosophers of his time. They were able to see past Christianity and religion.”
“Nietzsche? I’m not reading his crap.” Nick was frustrated. He couldn’t keep arguing with her and he’d just have to accept the fact that she wouldn’t be joining him at church that morning. Or ever.
But at least she believed that Jesus had lived and had acknowledged his death on the cross. That was a start. The pastor at the church at State had indicated that the 1.6 billion Muslims in the world refused to acknowledge the historical Roman and Jewish texts outside of the Bible that documented his death on the cross. Their prophet Muhammad said that Jesus was merely a prophet.
Wayward Paths and Golden Handcuffs Page 4