by Greg Trine
“Where are we going?” Vern asked.
“San Joaquin River, best fishing in the Eastern Sierra.” Tuck reached into the back seat and grabbed his fly reel and began fiddling with it. “First one who catches a fish wins.”
“You’re on,” I said. I didn’t know what the prize would be, but I was up for the challenge.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The thing about camping is that there’s no sleeping in. The sun makes itself known pretty darn early—so do the birds—and in the High Sierra in early April you freeze your ass off all night long, and the only thing on your mind is getting up and starting a fire as quickly as possible.
We were camped at a place called Soda Springs, along the San Joaquin River, and I’d just survived the coldest night of my life. I had on every piece of clothing I’d brought, my sleeping bag zipped tight around me, and I was still freezing. I couldn’t move my toes. We’d spent the previous day getting skunked on the river, followed by a night of freezing. Whose idea was it to go camping?
On the flip side, no one had gas. Yet.
I stumbled out of the tent and saw Tuck pouring gasoline over a pile of wood in the fire ring.
“Isn’t that cheating?”
“You want Jeremiah Johnson, or do you want warmth?”
“Warmth sounds good.”
“Stand back.” He struck a match and dropped it.
Whooosh!
Flames shot up over our heads for a few seconds, then settled down to a normal campfire, popping and crackling. Tuck and I moved closer. The tent unzipped behind us, and Vern poked his head out. “I heard a whoosh,” he said. Just like me, he was wearing every piece of clothing he’d brought. He joined us at the fire. “Froze my ass off last night.”
“Join the party,” I told him.
“I’m trying to. Move over.”
I roasted both sides of myself until I had to remove my extra layers. My friends did the same. Two hours later, the sun crept into the campground, and I began to feel I could move about like a normal person.
Tuck said we’d been skunked on the river the day before because of the full moon—the fish had been feeding all night. Today should be better. They’d be in the mood to eat.
I hoped so. I could endure a freezing night or two if something worthwhile happened during the day, like catching a load of fish. After breakfast, we grabbed our rods and headed to the river. Vern and I used salmon eggs with a few split-shot weights to keep them below the surface. Tuck had his fly rod. He wouldn’t stoop to using bait.
We fished all morning, wandering up and down the San Joaquin. At some point I lost track of Vern. Tuck was still in sight. He wandered over to me after a while.
“Hey,” he said, “you know what?”
“No, but I know his brother Who.”
He shook away my attempt at a joke. “One of my girlfriends has a friend coming in from out of state. Nice-looking girl. And she’s going to need a date.”
One of his girlfriends? “I’m sorry. What did you say?” I couldn’t get past the idea of multiple girlfriends.
Tuck repeated himself. Then he added, “You want to double-date?”
“So she’s fat and ugly. Is that what you’re saying?”
Tuck flicked his fly out onto the water and let it drift below a rock, never taking his eye off it. “Nope. I saw a photo. She looks hot.”
“Why me?” I asked. “Why not Vern?”
Tuck glanced up and down the river. “You’re here. Vern’s not. You want me to ask him instead?”
“No. I’m interested. But if she weighs three hundred pounds, you die.”
“Fair enough. I’ll set it up for next weekend.”
A girl from another state. Who knows, maybe bagging a California boy was what she had in mind. I moved downriver to a place where the fast water flowed into a deep pool. But the fish weren’t interested. I wandered back up to Tuck and said, “You know what?”
“No, but I know his brother Who.” He grinned.
“The fish aren’t biting. I could go for a nap.”
Tuck nodded and reeled in his line. “A nap sounds good. I didn’t sleep at all last night.”
“Yeah, freezing your ass off will do that.”
Back at camp, we found patches of sunlight and spread out our sleeping bags in them. I was asleep almost immediately. I dreamed of rock-and-roll music again—and tomatoes. Only they didn’t smell like tomatoes. It was more like rotting fish. Vern was on bass and kept saying my name over and over again. “Elroy, Elroy, Elroy.”
I opened my eyes and came face to face with an eighteen-inch rainbow trout. Vern was waving it under my nose. “Elroy, Elroy, Elroy.”
I sat up. “How’d you guys do?”
“Skunked,” I said.
“Skunked,” repeated Tuck.
“So I win. Lay the prize on me.”
Tuck walked over and gave him a hug.
“No, really,” Vern said. “I want the prize.”
“That was the prize,” Tuck said. “Women would pay good money for that.”
“You suck, Mayfield.”
The next morning, we packed up and drove out of the San Joaquin River Valley to Mammoth Lakes. It was only our third day, but we all looked like we’d been sleeping in the dirt for weeks, and we smelled of smoke.
“There’s gotta be a place around here to shower,” Tuck said.
That was the plan. Find a place where we could get cleaned up before starting the seven-hour drive back to Highmont. We stopped at a ski shop in Mammoth to ask about a shower but came away empty—they didn’t know. We got back into the car and were moving on when Vern suddenly began yelling, “Gas station, gas station, pull over.”
I checked the gas gauge. “We’re fine on gas, Vern. We’ll fill up in Lone Pine.”
“No. I need to use the facilities!”
I looked at his face and saw how he was clutching his stomach. This was no laughing matter. It could be way worse than Templin Highway and the Night of Gas if I didn’t find a gas station, and quick. I pulled over at a Shell station, and Vern jumped out and sprinted to the men’s room. Actually, it was more of a sprint/walk—pretty hard to go fast when you’re squeezing your cheeks together.
Before he got back, Tuck was doubled over in pain. “Must have been the Vern Zuckman Surprise,” he said.
Vern Zuckman Surprise was our dinner the night before. It was Vern’s trout mixed with rice, chili, spaghetti noodles, and just a hint of pinecone. It wasn’t bad-tasting, but obviously it wreaked havoc with the human digestive system.
Tuck got out of the car and headed for the bathroom, cheeks flexing the whole way. “Vern, hurry it up.”
It was a good twenty minutes before I saw Vern and Tuck again. When I did, they were smiling. And they’d found a place where we could shower. “There’s a boarding house down the street,” Vern said. “Showers for three bucks.”
They directed me to the boarding house, a place called Miss Watson’s, and we went in. The girl at the desk was an older version of Marisa, which is to say hot and then some. Vern and I looked to Tuck to do the talking, since we were in the presence of beauty and had temporarily lost our ability to speak.
Tuck shook his head at us in disgust, then said, “We’d like to take showers.”
“Yes,” the girl said, smiling, “I was just going to recommend that.” She fanned the air in front of her face. “Seriously.”
She gave us towels and directed us down the hall. “Soap and shampoo are provided.”
I went first. The hallway door opened directly into a tiny changing area about two feet square, which was right next to a glass shower door. I stripped and turned on the water as hot as I could take it. Soon I had soap all over me, well on my way to becoming civilized again . . . and that’s when the Vern Zuckman Surprise hit. It was the Templin Highway and the Night of Gas all over again, only this time it wanted out of my body in solid form. Or liquid form. I wasn’t exactly sure.
I burst out of the s
hower stall and into the hallway, water pouring off me, every inch of my body covered with suds. “Where’s the bathroom?!”
Vern and Tuck, who were sitting in chairs reading newspapers, looked at me, not really registering that there was a naked Elroy in front of them, covered in soap, holding his privates.
“I need a bathroom!”
They saw the desperation in my eyes and burst out laughing. The commotion brought the Marisa-caliber receptionist into the hallway. Her hands flew to her gaping mouth.
“Bathroom!” I yelled, no longer able to communicate in full sentences.
She took two steps toward me and opened a door. I sprinted to her—she didn’t bother to avert her eyes—got inside and shut the door behind me. By the time I emerged, everything had dried, but there was no longer panic on my face. I strolled back to the shower.
“See you guys in a few minutes,” I told my friends. They were no longer laughing, but I could hear them start up again as soon as I closed the door.
Later, as we were heading down the mountain toward Bishop with Vern at the wheel, Tuck tapped me on the shoulder.
“So, Elroy, I need to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest.”
“Shoot.”
“Is that the first time you’ve been naked in the presence of the opposite sex?”
“Yes,” I told him. “But don’t tell my mom.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
We stopped for gas in Lone Pine. Vern pumped while Tuck and I headed into the store for supplies. On the way back to the car, Tuck stopped me.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“About?”
“The blind date.”
“The blind date with Shamu?”
“You need to come prepared.”
“With a harpoon?” I looked over at the Trap, where Vern was busy cleaning the windshield.
“I’m serious,” Tuck said. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“I wish you would.” Vern had finished the windshield and was looking at us with his best what’s-up expression.
“Condoms,” Tuck said.
“I thought you were going to spell it out for me.”
“Fine. C-o-n-d-o-m-s.” He slapped me on the back and headed toward to the car. “Just in case. Elroy might get lucky.”
I just might. But I had to admit the thought scared me. I’d kissed a couple of times, but that was it. What if she wanted more? What if she really wanted to bag a California boy and I didn’t know what to do? The thought had me terrified and excited at the same time.
As soon as we got back to Highmont Ridge, I headed to the Walgreens. I wandered the aisles, not able to bring myself to ask where they kept the condoms. The assistant manager, who was a lady about my mom’s age, kept watching me like I was some kind of criminal.
“Can I help you, young man?” she asked finally. She had on reading glasses connected to a chain around her neck and was looking at me over the tops of the lenses.
“Uh . . . help me? Why would I need help?”
“Because you’ve been wandering the same aisle for fifteen minutes now.”
I’d found the condom aisle. I just couldn’t bring myself to grab one of the boxes. And I certainly wasn’t going to do so with Miss Reading Glasses watching.
She cleared her throat.
“Uh . . . where do you keep the Gatorade?”
“I see,” she said. “You’re looking for Gatorade in this section.”
“I’m new in town?” It came out like a question. “It’s hot out and I’m thirsty?” I could feel myself starting to sweat. A cool drink would come in handy, come to think of it.
The lady pointed to the far wall, where the word DRINKS hung in gigantic letters. It was the largest sign in the store. She took a step toward me and glanced at the condom display. “Is there something else I can help you with, young man?” But her eyes said, Don’t I know your mother?
I grabbed some Gatorade and got out of there.
The next day, I went back at a different time, hoping to find a different set of employees working. I didn’t see Miss Reading Glasses anywhere, but I still couldn’t bring myself to get what I needed. I came away with toothpaste, a pair of socks, a box of toothpicks, and something that would relieve temporary itching of hemorrhoidal tissue.
“I can’t believe you didn’t get them,” Tuck said.
“No, but if you ever have hemorrhoid problems, I’m your man.”
Tuck had borrowed his dad’s SUV, and as we drove to pick up our dates, I couldn’t help noticing the size of the back seat. If this girl from out of state really wanted to get to know me, there was room for it to happen.
Tuck reached for his Skoal can and offered me a mint. “Just in case you have lizard breath,” he said. “And remember, look her in the eye when you speak to her.”
Dang, he wanted me to talk?
“I’m good at eye contact,” I told him.
“I know you, Elroy. You tend to drop your eyes and keep them there.”
“That’s Vern. I’ll keep my eyes where they’re supposed to be.” At least I’d try.
The closer we got to his girlfriend’s house, the more nervous I became. I’d spent most of the year trying to get past first base, but what if she wanted a home run?
Tuck sensed what I was feeling. Maybe because I was sweating while the air conditioner was on. “Relax, man,” he said. “It’s like I always tell you guys—just be friendly. Expect nothing in return.”
“And look her in the eye?”
“Yes.” As we turned onto his girlfriend’s street, I began to imagine my blind date. Would she be Shamu or something a little more delicate? I’d hate to get squashed by someone I hardly knew.
When Tuck pulled into the driveway, both girls were sitting on the front steps, and my jaw dropped. It was like Marisa had two sisters, both dark-haired, both stunning. They had on jeans and sweaters that left little to the imagination. Tuck reached over and lifted my chin to shut my mouth. “Stop drooling.”
“I’m trying,” I said. “Which one’s my date?”
“Does it matter?”
He had a point. How do you decide between beautiful and gorgeous? We parked and got out and walked over to the girls. Tuck yanked off his John Deere hat and bowed. “Ladies.” Then he turned to me. “This is Elroy. Elroy, meet Cindy and Rachel.”
I shook their hands, not letting my eyes wander. They really, really wanted to, but I forced them to behave. “Nice to meet you,” I said.
Cindy kissed Tuck on the lips. Either she was extremely friendly or Rachel was my date for the evening. I guessed it was the latter. This was confirmed a few minutes later, when she got in the back seat with me. We headed across town to Santino’s, best pizza on the West Coast. Or at least West Highmont Ridge.
The place was pretty packed. I thought I saw a few Second Base Club members. And I noticed a few jaws drop. Yes, gentlemen, I may not be a member of your organization, but the hottest girl in the room is with me. At least, she was in the top two.
We took a booth near the back, and I promptly forgot about the Second Base Club. I was on the verge of getting there myself. I was thigh to thigh with Rachel from—
“Where did you say you’re from?” I asked her.
“Atlanta,” she said. “Y’all from California have such cute accents.”
“I don’t know about accents,” Tuck said, “but we are cute.”
Our pizza came, and we ate and talked, and I was part of it all. I initiated conversation. I told jokes. And I kept getting looks from Tuck, as if he was saying, Who are you and what have you done with Elroy? He also gave me little gestures to tell me when my eyes were wandering.
It was a good time. After a while, I forgot that I was thigh to thigh with a hot girl. Okay, maybe I didn’t forget, but I was enjoying myself.
By the time we finished the meal, it was dark. We got back in the SUV, and Tuck said, “So—you guys want to go for a drive?” Which meant, Do you girls want t
o go park?
“The night’s young,” Cindy said.
“And so are we,” Rachel added.
Let me just say that at this point I was thanking my lucky stars. I was full of hope and good ol’ American horniness. Tuck drove through town, then turned off on a road that took us up into the hills. If you were going to park, you might as well have a view. The road turned to dirt after a while, and we kept climbing. This eventually led us to a chain-link fence with a locked gate.
“Be back in a second,” Tuck said and got out, leaving the car running.
I got out and followed. At the gate, Tuck pulled out a key and inserted it into a padlock, which was connected to a chain. “Got a friend who works in the oil fields.” He gestured to the oil pumps beyond the fence, bobbing up and down like feeding horses.
I nodded and helped him swing the gate open, then turned back to the SUV. “Wait.” Tuck grabbed me by the shoulder and shoved something into my back pocket. “Protection,” he said. “This is your night, Elroy.”
I could feel myself starting to sweat again. I knew what was coming—or at least I had a hunch.
“Just go with it,” Tuck said. “Be friendly, no expectations.”
We got back into the SUV and drove through the gates and parked in a small turnout in the dirt road. Tuck got out and went around to the rear of the vehicle, opened the door, and grabbed a blanket. “Come on, Cindy,” he said. “Let’s give these two some privacy.”
Yikes!
The rear doors closed, Cindy got out, and Rachel and I were alone. I kept my eyes straight ahead at first, but I could feel her eyes on me, and her perfume was doing a number on my nose. My smoothness and confidence from dinner vanished. I was no longer Super Elroy—it was just me. I turned to her and said, “So . . . uh . . . Rachel, tell me about—”
She put a finger to my lips and leaned in and kissed me. A tiny peck at first, but then her lips parted, and so did mine. We kissed again. This time deeper—it went on and on. I wanted to glance at my watch but I didn’t. I just went with it, as Tuck had suggested. Just be friendly? Well, okay. Kissing was friendly, right?