by JR Thompson
Brock pulled off the road to turn around; he must have come from the other way.
As he switched directions, his eyes fell on a sign for the Rose Pedals Flower Shop; there was no way that was a coincidence. The chances of accidentally pulling off the road that close to a flower shop right before a first date were slim to none.
Brock drove up to the shop and went inside. He didn’t have a lot of money, but they had an awesome special going. One dozen red roses were on sale for only $9.99. Knowing that was a bargain, Brock made the purchase and couldn’t wait to take them to his special new lady friend.
He hopped back in the truck and headed down the road. In a matter of minutes, he came to a familiar looking intersection. Turning right, he drove a couple of blocks, and arrived at the shoe store at 4:00 on the dot.
Putting the bouquet behind his back, Brock marched inside. Nikki was in the process of clocking out when he walked in. She spun around when she heard the door open, grinning from ear to ear. Nikki immediately noticed Brock’s hand behind his back. “Well, poop on my boots if you didn’t bring me something, sweetie,” she said with a smile. “You didn’t have to do that!”
Collin wanted to laugh out loud. Poop on my boots, he thought. Now there’s a way to get and keep a guy. Trying to stay out of the way, he gathered his belongings and headed to the time clock.
Brock brought the roses out from behind his back. He was disappointed to see the beam on Nikki’s face mellow a little. She reached out and took the bouquet, sniffed the roses, and casually said, “Thank you.”
Brock didn’t get the feeling she was thrilled about the gift. Her baby blue eyes reflected a huge letdown in her soul. “Is something amiss?”
“No, not at all. That was very thoughtful of you,” Nikki said, still in a quiet voice. The flowers were obviously not what she had been hoping for.
“Your sinuses are not inflamed by the fragrance of flowers, are they?”
“It’s not anything like that. Flowers are just a bit too cliché. Every guy gets every girl flowers. I’m not trying to be rude or mean or anything like that — but flowers are for pimple-faced teenagers. We’re both grown-ups. A mature young lady wants a mature guy to recognize her unique qualities and to bring her well thought-out gifts. I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the roses though — that was very sweet of you.”
Brock couldn’t decide if he was hurt or embarrassed. Had it been that long since he had dated? He apologized for not being more thoughtful and promised to put more brainpower into anything he bought her in the future.
This is quite entertaining, Collin thought. If I was Brock, I would have bought you some shoes to get you out of those tacky crocs you wear all of the time. Collin knew Nikki could be particular, but wow! Had Alayna acted that way on their first date, there would not have been a second one. He didn’t say a word about it though. He just took the keys from Brock, clocked out, and headed out the door.
◆◆◆
Too afraid to make a suggestion for a date, Brock asked Nikki if she had anything in mind.
“I’m so glad you asked, sweetie. “I thought it might be fun to go thrifting. Have you ever done that?”
Thrifting? Brock thought for a moment. Does she mean shopping at thrift stores? Surely not. “I’m not positive if I understand your proposition. Would you mind elaborating?”
“I’ve never done it either, but I’ve read about it. We’ll go over to Tammy’s Secondhand Shop. We’ll separate and each of us will spend between $5 and $10 on the most hideous looking outfit we can find. It’s a contest — I try to find an uglier, crazier set of cloths than you and vice versa. We buy the rags, go into the powder room and change, and then we go down to Town Central Plaza to see what kind of crazed reactions we get from people. Are you game?”
Brock’s idea of a first date was something like going to a movie and having dinner afterwards or perhaps going ice skating or to see a play. No wonder Nikki was upset by the flowers; she was definitely anything but the ordinary girl. As uncomfortable as he was with the idea, Brock agreed to go thrifting with her.
Since Brock didn’t know where anything was in town, Nikki drove. She went about three blocks down the road and pulled into Tammy’s, a bigger thrift store than any he had ever seen before. Nikki said she would leave the car unlocked and they would both meet in the car wearing their hideous outfits.
Once inside, the two separated. Brock went to the men’s section to browse. He saw a grape juice stained, torn orange t-shirt that was big enough to fit Shamu. It looked hideous alright, but he was sure he could find something better. He found a brown corduroy jacket. Too boring, he thought. He considered a tight spandex-looking neon-green shirt — weird, but not really hideous.
Then he saw it — the perfect top! It was the worst looking Christmas sweater he had ever seen. The background was dark green. The belly part of the shirt was covered with an ugly gingerbread man that looked like it had been drawn by a kindergartener. There were huge white snowflakes that weren’t printed on the sweater, but that had been sewn on separately so they appeared to stick out from the rest of the material. Around the entire neck of the shirt were what looked like huge Christmas lights of various colors. It was most certainly the worst looking shirt he had ever seen. Someone obviously made this thing themselves — perhaps as a punishment for an unruly teenager? The sweater alone would certainly win the contest. Even better was the price; it was only fifty cents.
Now for the pants. Brock walked down the next aisle. There were plaid shorts, extremely wrinkly khaki pants, and some grease stained white sweats. Any of them would have looked hilarious with the sweater, but he continued walking. Brock was a competitor; if he was going to enter a contest, he was going to win!
After searching for about ten minutes, he found a pair of tree-trunk colored bell bottoms straight from the ‘70s. He didn’t know who had cleaned out their closet for the first time in decades, but he was pleased they did. The pants were $2.50. He still had $7.00 left and he planned on spending every red cent.
He found a Davy Crockett-style raccoon hat for $3.00 and a pair of house slippers that looked like giant grey rats for $2.00. He only had $2.00 left and he was determined to spend it wisely. Brock walked several laps around the men’s department, determined to find a winning idea and sometimes catching himself chuckling at the thought of wearing such a ridiculous outfit.
He finally settled on a pair of white boxer briefs that he would put on over top of his bell bottoms and a red bow tie with white stripes. Brock laughed his way to the checkout line. His face turned slightly red as he began emptying his shopping basket onto the conveyor belt.
The teenage cashier wore her blonde hair in pig tails. She donned wire-framed glasses and her jeans rose way above her belly button. At least she’s not attractive, Brock thought.
He quickly explained to the cashier why he had purchased such hideous clothing. She laughed like a hyena and snorted like a pig. She told Brock he was more than welcome to use the restroom to change; she couldn’t wait to see him in costume.
Taking the merchandise into the restroom, Brock was disgusted — someone had tinkled on the toilet seat and the floor had quite a bit of what he hoped was mud scattered across it. As nasty as that restroom was, Brock knew he had to go through with the plan.
CHAPTER 9 – SOUNDING THE ALARM
Keeping his shoes on to avoid having his feet touch the grimy floor, Brock attempted to take his pants off. It was easier said than done. He closed the lid on the toilet and sat on top of it while trying to force his jeans to come off over his shoes. They got stuck — majorly stuck. Brock tried and tried, but they wouldn’t come off. Fine, I’ll put them back on and then take my shoes off, he decided.
Nope, that wouldn’t work either. The pants were so connected to his shoes that they wouldn’t go on or off. He could feel his face turning as red as a beat. He was thankful the door had a lock on it. If someone came in and saw him in that position, he would be humiliated. Thi
s was a story he probably wouldn’t be sharing with Nikki.
After several minutes of wrestling with his clothing, he finally pulled his shoes off, while they were still wrapped up in his jeans.
He glanced at the items he had purchased – in particular at the well-worn underwear. He shook his head, perhaps this is going a bit too far. He finished getting undressed and then put on the ugly Christmas sweater and the clashing bow-tie. Checking himself out in the mirror, he had trouble not bursting into loud laughter. He couldn’t believe he had allowed himself to be talked into this.
Brock grabbed the bell bottoms and slipped into them. They were significantly smaller than he realized. He struggled to get them up to his waist. Even after sucking in his stomach, he was unable to fasten them. Not to mention they were way too short. Perhaps I better model the unmentionables after all. At least they’ll cover up the open fly and people won’t have any cognizance of their tenaciousness about my midsection.
If Superman could wear red briefs over top of his tights and that was okay on national television, then surely it would be okay for Brock Pearson to wear white boxer-briefs over top of bell bottoms. He put them on, no longer being able to contain his laughter.
Starting to put his slippers on, Brock realized it would look even funnier if he took his socks off since the pants were now high-waters. He took his socks off and slipped his feet inside of the rats. Brock was scared to death to walk out of the restroom — he sure hoped Nikki wasn’t playing a prank on him. He feared he would walk outside to find her still in her normal clothing and he would look like a fool. After throwing the raccoon hat on his head, it was time to become the center of attention.
When Brock opened the door to the restroom, the studious looking cashier was standing close by with her cell phone camera aimed right at him. She laughed hysterically, snorted multiple times, took a picture, laughed and snorted some more, and said, “I hope you don’t mind! I couldn’t resist.”
If Brock thought his face had been red before, he hated to think how it looked now. Other customers stopped in their tracks when they saw him. They pointed. They laughed. It was humiliating! One thing was for sure — Nikki had better be wearing something ridiculous as well!
Brock hustled to the car as quickly as possible. As long as he had taken, he was sure his date would be waiting impatiently for him. To his surprise, she wasn’t there yet. He got in the passenger side and slid as far down in the seat as he could, hoping no one would see him.
A few minutes later, Nikki came out of the store. He looked her over from head to toe. Had she been wearing a regular outfit, her camouflage work boots would have looked hilarious. Her green and black striped panty hose somehow managed to lessen the hilarity of the boots. Funnier still was the flowy bright yellow skirt sporting a huge black smiley face that covered the entire thing. The top was a long sleeved white turtle neck with giant angel fish of various colors swimming sporadically across it. To top it all off, she was wearing a pink ball cap with white lettering that read, “Your sweater is ugly.”
Brock got out of the car so she could see his outfit. The two of them laughed so hard their stomachs hurt. This was going to be one date neither would ever forget. As a matter of fact, it was a date that no one in the mall would ever forget either.
Town Central Plaza was only minutes from the thrift store. They laughed their whole way there. When they pulled on the lot, Brock thought, Great. Here we go.
“This is awesome! I can’t wait to see the expressions on people’s faces,” Nikki said.
Brock laughed as he and Nikki stepped out of the car. A family of four was walking past them. Pointing, a little boy said, “They look weird, Mommy!”
Nikki nor Brock knew what was funnier — the words of the little boy or the response of his momma. Knowing they could hear her, she said, “Honey, it’s not nice to judge people. I think their outfits are lovely.”
Once inside, they stopped by a coffee shop where they ordered a couple of lattes. There was no line, but the guy working the register certainly noticed their outfits. “Ya’ll headin’ to some kind of party? Or are ya goin’ through some kind of initiation?” he asked.
Brock replied, “No, we are just out on our first date.”
◆◆◆
Nikki looked at him as if he was a complete moron. Of course, they were on a date. He was right about that, but he should have had some fun with the guy. Instead of getting a cool reaction, the guy just rolled his eyes and said a long, drawn out, “Okay.”
Next, they headed into a men’s suit store. A salesman looked their direction, cleared his throat, and coughed a couple of times trying to get his manager’s attention. Eventually, the manager saw them. “I’ve seen it all now,” he muttered, while approaching them.
“This store is for paying customers only!”
“Who says we’re not paying customers?” Nikki replied.
“Get out of my store or I’m callin’ the cops!”
Nikki interlocked her arm with Brock’s. “We don’t have to take this. Brock, will you kindly escort me out of this fine establishment?”
A kind, concerned citizen followed them out of the store. They couldn’t help but to notice the way she was looking at them. Thinking it was slightly humorous, they continued their journey.
After about a five-minute walk, they passed three boys around Remmy’s age. They looked at Brock and Nikki and then at each other and busted out laughing. A minute or so later, one of the boys ran up behind them, yanked Brock’s boxer briefs down to his knees, and took off running and laughing. Brock tugged them back up and he and Nikki joined in the laughter.
Looking back over her shoulder, Nikki saw the concerned citizen again. Realizing she had been seen, the lady shyly asked, “Are you okay? Are you lost? Do you want me to call somebody?”
It was obvious she thought they had broken out of a psych ward or something.
Nikki decided to play along — using the slowest speaking childish voice imaginable, she said, “Cud you call Santa Kwaus? He forgetted to bwing me my pwesents wast night.”
The lady’s concern grew, “Do you have a guardian here? Who did you come with?”
“Can you keep a seqwet?”
“I sure can.”
In as low of a voice as she could muster without laughing, Nikki said, “We dwown-ded-ed him in the wivver. He was very funny wooking. He was yelling, ‘Help, help!’ We frew mud balls at him. It was so funny.”
The concerned citizen took a step backward. It was obvious she didn’t know what to do.
“Don’t forget — you pwamissed not to tell,” Nikki added.
The lady turned and high tailed it toward the security desk.
Brock and Nikki decided to get out of there. They ran so fast they could barely breathe!
CHAPTER 10 – HARMONY’S SECRET
When Nikki dropped Brock off at the Russell house, Collin and Alayna were anxiously waiting to hear how his date went. That is, until they saw him walk in dressed like a drunken clown. They looked at each other and then burst into laughter. Partially covering her mouth with one hand, Alayna said, “What in the world?”
Trying to figure out what all of the laughter was about, Remington sneaked down the hallway sporting his brand-new dad-designed nerd glasses. Fastening his eyes on Brock, he started to snicker. Not wanting Mom or Dad to know he was awake, he tried to hold it in. His whole body began to tremble and just as his parents’ laughter subsided, he chuckled out loud.
Collin turned to Remington and said, “Boy, you better —,” but he couldn’t continue without bursting into another bout of laugher. It was just too funny. Still chuckling he continued, “You should have been asleep an hour ago. I’ll deal with you in the morning, young man. Get to bed.”
◆◆◆
In the morning, Collin had to leave for work a little earlier than usual so he could drop Brock off at the tree nursery by 7 am. He hadn’t forgotten about Remmy’s escapade from the night before. Should I wake h
im up and deal with him before I leave? he asked himself. After all, I did tell him I would deal with him this morning.
After thinking it through, Collin decided to go with another option. He wrote him a note detailing his discipline. Remmy would be grounded until he wrote, “I will stay in bed when I’m supposed to” one hundred times, washed the Jeep, scrubbed the toilet, cleaned every pair of his shoes by hand, and mowed the lawn. If it took him one afternoon, wonderful! If it took three weeks, oh well.
Collin attached the note to the refrigerator. If there’s one place a teenage boy would see a note, that’s where he would see it. Remmy stopped at the fridge every time he passed through the kitchen.
On their way to work, Collin told Brock about a conversation he and Remmy had while he was out on this date with Nikki.
Remington wanted to meet the boy who had been kidnapped — to see if the kid could provide him with any clues as to who the real assailant was. Collin thought that perhaps Brock could tell him the boy’s name so on Saturday he could take Remington to the kid’s neighborhood and see if he could arrange an “accidental meeting” of the two.
Looking out the passenger side window, Brock complained, “It’s just too risky. I don’t like the idea.”
Suspicious, Collin glanced over at him. Brock was still looking out the window and didn’t notice. “Too risky?” Collin asked. “Too risky for who? Are you hiding something, Brock?”
That got Brock’s attention. He turned and gave Collin an infuriated glare. “Did I not tell you before that the pages of my life are available for display? I thought you knew I have been telling you the truth! Are you suggesting I am guilty of anthropophagitism?”
Collin didn’t want Brock to take off again. However, it did seem a bit far-fetched that a man who wanted to have his reputation restored wouldn’t want more facts to be gathered. He convinced Brock that he trusted him, but in all reality he didn’t understand why Brock was opposed to Remington meeting the boy who had been attacked.