“And that’s why they pay you the big bucks,” I said, quizzical looks all around. I needed to surround myself with a better audience. “Let’s go, kids.”
We made a quick pit stop in the office to alert Miss Mabel about the leak in the auditorium. She called Maintenance, but they wouldn’t be able to do anything right away, so I marched my merry band of misfits over to the gym, flung open the doors and boom! A football came flying towards me and landed in my arms, scooped up like a little baby.
Luke jogged over, sheepish grin on his face. “Hey, Mr. Walter. Sorry about that.” His hands were placed on his hips in the classic coach stance. “Nice catch, though! Where’d you learn to do that?”
“We’re not all Marcia Brady, you know,” I jeered, and tossed the pigskin back to him, with as much force as I could muster. He caught it smoothly, of course, pulled it in, a slight smile on his face.
“I can see that. What can I do ya for?’’ he said. Does he always have to be so nice?
“Well, we were hoping to use the piano. The theatre seems to have sprung a leak, and we’re planning on auditioning for Grease, not Singing in the Rain. We thought maybe we could use the gym.” I peered around, but could see that my case was about to be dismissed. The floor was full of sweaty teens covered in shoulder pads and protective helmets, running from one end of the floor to the other.
“Ah, well, we had to bring practice inside today,” he explained. “The field became a mud swamp, and I can’t afford for any of my players to get injured before the big Homecoming game. We have to beat Billington, ya know.’’ That grin. White teeth. Those dimples. God, he is making it awfully hard to hate him.
“Well, kids, it looks like Coach Walcott doesn’t care about your dreams,” I said, turning to my flock. “Auditions are postponed to Monday. Sorry. Hopefully our auditorium will be back in shape by then.”
Luke looked at me slightly anxiously, as if I had wounded him unnecessarily, again. He then turned back to his team, football in hand. Damn it. I can really be an ass.
7
ONE MORE, ON ME
After my latest run in with Luke, I was looking forward to meeting the Scooby Gang at the Firelight tonight.
I raced home for a quick shower. Mom left a note on the fridge along with a peach cobbler she had whipped up on the counter. Uncle Barry was at his club and she was out with her girlfriends. I was convinced that she was trying to fatten me up so that I would never have a social life again and I would spend more time with her. I made a quick costume change, checked my look in the mirror, and hopped down the stairs, practically tripping over myself. I had a goal, of course. I wanted to get to Happy Hour before it ended.
And… shit. The car won’t start. When I showed up on Mom’s doorstep after leaving my boyfriend, my city and my life, I didn’t exactly have the cash on hand for a new set of wheels. Luckily, Mom still had her old car parked behind the house, but it needed a little work. Her 1978 baby blue Buick Regal with the “Honk if You Love Willie Nelson” bumper sticker had seen plenty of adventures (and honks) during my lifetime, but it was time to bring him back into service. We put just enough money into him to make him run, but I guess it wasn’t enough.
Click. Click. Click. Nada.
I called Tommy. “Hey, it’s me. Willie Nelson’s dead,” I said. “Can you swing by and pick me up on your way to the Firelight?”
“No problem, man,” he said. “I’m on my way.” That’s Tommy. He’ll show up for you in a heartbeat, and just expect a smile in return, no questions asked.
I walked down to the end of the driveway and waited for him by the mailbox. I absentmindedly looked at my phone and checked my e-mail and text messages. Not a word from David since I left New York. I hoped he was doing okay, but truthfully, I didn’t want to hear from him just yet. I knew Marcos and his other friends would check in on him, but I wasn’t ready to take that step, myself. I imagined he hated me. I would. But I was dreading the moment when our Wall of Silence would inevitably come crashing down and I would have to deal with the repercussions of my decisions.
Tommy pulled up and I jumped in the passenger seat. “Thanks, man,” I said and reached over, giving him a one-armed half hug. “Really sorry about that.”
“All good! I’m glad to spend some time with you,” he said.
“So, how are things? How’s the family?” I asked.
“Ah, you know,” he said. “Everyone’s crazy but we don’t really deal with it.” He took a drag off his cigarette and flicked it out the window.
“Welcome to my trailer park,” I agreed, and we laughed. I knew all too well what life was like in a Southern family. We keep our loved ones in the attic, the basement, or the closet. Literally.
We pulled into the Firelight and found a parking spot up front. Bammy and Kit had both sent text messages to say that they were already there and had scored our regular booth. Tommy and I walked up the steps and into the bar to the strains of “Blister in the Sun” blaring from the jukebox, and sure enough, the ladies had their pitchers propped in front of them at the wide circular booth in the back, but it seems their text messages only told half the story. Yes, they had saved seats for me and Tommy, but it turned out they were sharing the booth with three others; Scooter Lee, Tammy Jeffries, and… Luke Walcott. Seriously?!
“Hey, y’all,” I said, trying to act cool. But even I could tell I was faking it. I do not have a poker face. At all. Luke barely registered my presence, which only pissed me off more. He was too busy talking to Tammy’s breasts, pushed up and out for the world’s approval.
“There you go with the ‘y’alls’ again,” Tommy snickered. “You just pull those out in front of a crowd to prove your Southern street cred, right?” Laughs all around, at my expense.
“Fuck all y’all,” I said, pointedly, and smiled. “Now, where’s my drink?”
Tommy and I scooted in next to Kit and Bammy. Kit was decked out in her best Audrey Hepburn Funny Face get up, complete with French beret. Bammy had on a cashmere sweater with an embroidered crest. How I was able to pull this group of friends together, I will never know, but I was sure grateful for their friendship.
“Hey there, Derek. Welcome back.” Scooter offered up his beer for a toast. Scooter Lee and I had never really talked that much in high school. He didn’t run with the jocks or the popular kids, so I wasn’t sure why Luke was hanging with him and Tammy. Scooter was pure redneck, and proud of it.
“I been followin’ you on Instagram, you know,” said Tammy. “I bet you got all kinds of stories for us about New York City.” From the way she was basically in his lap, I figured that Tammy and Scooter were still an item. They looked good together, actually.
“Ah, well, I loved New York, but it was time to come home,” I said, gripping my beer. “I missed my fiends, my family. You know.” I also loved avoiding discussing David in Tennessee. Too much drama, too much gay. Few people went there.
“Not really. None of us have traveled like you have,” she said, one arm on Scooter’s leg, another holding her pint glass. “We ain’t had the opportunity. I lead more of a ‘white trash’ kinda life.” She giggled.
We all laughed. It wasn’t really a derogatory thing if you said it about yourself.
“Exactly how white trash are you?” said our resident southern belle, Bammy, playing into the joke.
“Third generation trailer park,” said Tammy proudly.
“Wow. That’s impressive,” I offered, glass raised.
“Thanks,” she said. “The men kept movin’ on, but we kept the house. Though a few of Mama’s boyfriends did try to take it. It’s on wheels, after all.”
Pitchers were emptied and new rounds bought. The jukebox offered up scores of the best of Country and Indie Pop, and the conversation flowed. Every now and then I’d catch Luke glancing at me, but overall he was hanging with Scooter and Tammy, while my friends and I caught up in our end of the booth. No drama so far, and I was fine with that. I wasn’t sure what this tension was,
but I was beginning to feel I owed him an apology for tearing into him at the lunchroom table my first week at school. I just wasn’t looking forward to starting that conversation. I do not eat crow well.
Kit was telling us about how she met her boyfriend Shawn, her Guitar Hero. “He was playing bass one night at the Bongo Room with his 80s cover band, Shock the Monkey, and we kinda made eyes at each other during this really bad Phil Collins medley. We ended up talking a bit during their break, but nothing really came of it. I kept seeing him around town, but it’s like he was afraid to approach me. Then I found out he was talking about me, and not in a good way. I totally would have slept with him if he hadn’t already told all his friends that I had slept with him, you know? Anyway, I made up my mind that he was a total jerk, so I just ignored him. A lot. And don’t you know it? A few weeks later there he was, tail between his legs, flowers in hand. Y’all know I’m a sucker for flowers. And now he’s trained!” They had been together for over a year now, and she seemed brighter and prettier than I had ever seen her. I was really happy for her.
“Well, you seem to have found the one,” said Bammy. “And Tommy seems pretty serious with his new girlfriend, Meredith. Let’s hope there are a few princes left for me and Derek.” With that, we emptied our glasses and set them down on the table.
“Who’s got the next round? I lost count,” I said.
“Sorry, guys, I’m out. Today was a killer, and I just want my couch, a movie and my cat,” said Bammy.
“Me, too,” said Kit. “Sorry. Not the couch and the cat, but Shawn is playing a late set tonight at the Bongo Room and I need to play the part of ‘Hopeless Groupie #1.’ It makes him happy, and the happier he is, the more presents for me.” She clapped her hands with glee and we all smiled.
“Well, Tommy, I guess that leaves you and me,” I said, and stood up to give the girls a kiss and turned to head towards the bar.
But Tommy stood up, too. “Sorry, man. Meredith just sent a text message. Duty calls. You mind if I take you back to your mom’s place now?”
A voice spoke up. “I can drive him back.” We all turned our heads towards the other end of the table. “Your mom lives out west, down by the lake, right?” said Luke.
“Uh, yeah. She does. But…” I didn’t know what to say.
“No, really, it’s no problem. I got ya.” He looked up at me with those baby blues and set his empty glass down. “One more round? It’s on me.”
Expect the unexpected, right?
■ ■ ■
My Scooby Gang deserted me, and Scooter and Tammy said their good-byes, as well. Scooter was a mechanic and he had an early shift at the auto repair shop, and Tammy needed to rest up for her full night tomorrow. She was pulling a double at Chesty Cheese.
Luke headed to the bar and I sat in the booth, watching him from behind. Or rather, watching his behind. My god. That man did not skip leg day at the gym.
Luke turned and made a beeline towards the booth, a full pitcher and two fresh glasses in hand. He darted in and out of the crowd, deftly avoiding any other bodies, running interference like the good football player that he was. He slid into the booth next to me, grinning, placed the pitcher down and poured two perfect pints.
“Cheers,” he said, straight white teeth and soft laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. What the hell is going on? I have no idea. Just go with it, right?
“Cheers,” I offered back, glass raised, never breaking eye contact. We drank. Glasses down. And then the silence. Followed by silence. And more long, uncomfortable silence. My god, someone has to give…
“So, listen,” I began. “I really wanted to say…” and before I can even get my apology going, he starts talking.
“Derek, sorry for interrupting,” he said “but something’s been bugging me. I just need to get this off my chest, man.” He looked over at me, and I couldn’t refuse. He had my attention.
“And what a chest it is.” Damn it, Derek. I always fall back on humor to break the ice.
He smiled, softly. “Seriously. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said during lunch last week.”
I looked down, swallowed meekly, then back up into his eyes. My teeth gnashed and I tightened my jaw. Where the hell is he going with this?
“I don’t really remember things the way you did,” he started, “but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t do some stupid things that may have hurt you. I don’t know if you know or not, but I had a classic Southern family: all good on the surface, but really messed up on the inside. I didn’t really talk about it to anyone, well, because I didn’t really have anyone to talk to. You see, my mother died right before high school started. Breast cancer. So I was raised by my father and our housemaid for a few years, and well, it was kinda rough. Tough love and all that. He did his best. Anyway, that’s not an excuse, just an explanation. Rosa had been with us since I was a kid. Our mother hired her to help out with my younger sister, Lana and me. Rosa was pretty amazing. Still is. But this isn’t about that. What I did, I did, and if the man I am today could go back in time and change the way I acted as a kid, I would do it. Because I think you’re a cool guy, Derek. I really do. I’m sorry. Truthfully, I am.” He reached an arm up and placed a strong hand on my shoulder, squeezing softly.
I swallowed hard and looked deep into his eyes. He was being honest, or at least it felt that way to me.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“Accept my apology?” he said. Those eyes. That smile.
“Of course, and I wanted to apologize, too, for jumping all over you in the lunchroom,” I sputtered. “That was just way out of line and way out of proportion. I guess I had just built up this…”
“Water under the bridge,” and he squeezed my shoulder again. “Let’s start fresh?”
“Sure.” I smiled, paused. “Hi, my name is Derek,” and I held out my hand.
“Hi. I’m Luke. Nice to meet you.”
Firm handshakes, and we both grinned.
We spent the rest of the night “shooting the shit.” Nothing major, nothing tense, and nothing out of line. It seems Luke had evolved a lot since the days spent under his dad’s thumb, and we had a few good laughs. Before we knew it, “Closing Time” was queued up on the jukebox, and we all made our way towards the exit and the parking lot.
“You sure you’re all right to drive?” I asked.
“This good ole boy knows his way down a back road or two,” he said as he unlocked the passenger side of his black Jeep Wrangler and held the door for me. “Ladies first.”
“Asshole.” I smirked.
“You love it.” He smiled.
“Whatever.” But I did. God help me, I did. What the fuck? Am I really flirting with Luke Walcott? Big Man On Campus, Luke Walcott? Homecoming King, Luke Walcott? Captain of the football team? How on Earth do I end up in these situations?
I crawled up into the leather seat, reached over and unlocked his door and put on my safety belt. The interior of the car smelled of leather and wood. No Polo cologne, thank God. So Luke wasn’t 100% frat boy, after all?
He turned the radio on to the local college indie station, and we pretty much drove in silence. I know he was concentrating on the road and the turns, but I was concentrating on his strong right hand as he shifted gears, the vein in his arm pulsing. My jeans were feeling awfully tight, and I had to readjust a bit.
“Everything all right over there?” he smirked.
“All good,” I said, remembering to act sober. “Just keep your eyes on the road and we’ll be fine. Next left, then straight on down past the marina. You’ll see a big barn up on the right, and it’s the green mailbox on the left, just after that.’’
He pulled into Mom’s driveway and stepped out, engine running, headlights on. He then walked in front of the car and over to my door, my eyes following him as I unbuckled my seat belt.
“Home, sir, as promised,” he said, opening my door, other hand outstretched as if to lead the way.
I
stepped out and he closed the door behind me. I turned, and before I could speak or think of what to do or say, he pulled me into his arms and held me there, tight, my head on his shoulder, just inches from his neck. My god he smelled good: smoky, almost like wood, as if he had slept the night downwind from a campfire.
“I had a great time,” he said, over my shoulder. “Thanks for hanging with me.” His strong arms held me there, for a second longer than a friend should. One second more, in fact, and I was about to give in, give up, and surrender. I felt my knees weaken and my own hands started to explore the muscles in his back…
Then he pushed himself away, firmly. He held one hand on the back of my neck and another at my waist and looked me deeply in the eyes.
“I’m actually a good guy, ya know?” he said.
“I can see that.” I smiled, dumbfounded.
“Good night, buddy. Sleep tight.” He patted me twice on the back, walked back over to the driver’s side, jumped in and reversed out of the driveway, leaving me in the headlights, wondering what the hell just happened.
Good night…buddy?
8
HELLO, DOLLY
As I had promised myself, I went for a run by the lake Saturday morning to clear my thoughts. It didn’t really work. Luke Walcott, what the hell are you doing in my head, and am I crazy? Readjusting to life in Tennessee was hard enough, but dealing with yet another crush on an unattainable straight boy was something I just didn’t think I could go through right now. I had had enough heartbreak this year. It was time to just concentrate on my friends, my family, and me and have some fun.
The towing service came by and hauled Willie Nelson off to Scooter’s shop for repairs. Kit picked me up at noon and we headed to the Tater Tot for lunch. One huge plate of cheese fries later and I was in carb heaven. All the worries and stresses of the last few weeks departed my body.
“My friend, this is better than any spa I’ve ever been to,” I said, as that potato-filled cheese covered fork made its way towards my gaping pie hole.
Home is a Fire Page 4