James Ross - A Young Adult Trilogy (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  barrydebohn: no not at all. Why would I do that?

  kittypurrs4u: then I won’t tell u the rest

  kittypurrs4u has signed off

  barrydebohn: kitty

  barrydebohn: kitty

  “Dammit!”

  CHAPTER 50

  Julie was one of the first in the clubhouse the next day. She beat Fred to the front door. The sun had barely broken from the horizon. Looking out the window she saw the irrigation lake cast a mirror image of the sunrise. The repetitive sound of the sprinklers and the chirping of the birds sounded a lot more peaceful than the buzz of rush hour bumper-to-bumper traffic.

  She got the coffee started as J Dub ran the carts from the cart barn to a spot outside the front door. B2 nipped at his heels. Maybe Trot was right—man’s best friend was always happy to see him no matter what happened the night before. The aroma from the percolating pot smacked J Dub as he entered.

  “Mmmmm. Pretty soon we’ll be offering lattes and espresso. How many guys would be interested in that?”

  “This crew?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The regulars are progress-challenged.”

  “You think?”

  “If it isn’t served cold out of a bottle or can there’s not much interest.”

  “You mean Captain Jer?”

  “All of them are the same. They might have some hard liquor once in a while.”

  J Dub spread the morning paper across the countertop. “I can’t blame them. I’m not much of a coffee drinker either. Maybe we can get the women to drink the fluffy drinks.”

  “That would be real smart-spend several hundred dollars on a special machine that takes five minutes to make one drink.”

  “We could be a full-service cafeteria.” He laughed.

  “To make sure that all ten women that come through the door every day are happy?”

  J Dub spread his arms. “I can see the banner now. Gourmet hot dogs, choice of chips, cream filled doughnuts and lattes.”

  “Maybe we should try to recruit cardiologists too.”

  The pro chuckled. He glanced to the corner and eyed the box that had been delivered the day before. “That didn’t take long to get delivered. We ordered it last week.”

  “What is it?”

  “Curt wanted a new driver.” He retrieved the package and examined it. “Did Curt get it yesterday?”

  “No, he wasn’t even in.”

  “This has been opened.” He looked inside. “There’s nothing in here.”

  “That’s where I put it after Ralph dropped it off.”

  “Was it opened when he delivered it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Now what do we do?”

  “I guess we’ll have to tell him when he stops by today.”

  “What,” J Dub pondered, “that the package he dropped off yesterday was empty?”

  “Sure.”

  “He’ll say that it was sealed when he dropped it off.” J Dub looked at Julie. “I mean we signed for it, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah, I signed for it.”

  “Dammit.”

  “What?”

  “We may have signed for an empty package.” He counted silently in his head. “There went three hundred bucks.” J Dub leaned the box against the wall behind the counter. “Make sure you get me when he gets here.” He grabbed a dog biscuit and gave one to B2. The dog had been jumping on his leg.

  The door opened. “Good morning.” Fred took a deep breath through his nose. “I’m not a coffee drinker and that makes me want to have a cup.” The morning box of doughnuts went on the counter. Then he fetched a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. “Whew! That smell loosened everything up.”

  J Dub examined the doughnuts. “Did they come that way?”

  Fred looked at him oddly.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I mean without the box being sealed.”

  “Every morning. Why?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Never mind.” J Dub was deep in thought. His mind was already racing ahead to Ralph anticipating what the conversation would be like.

  Within minutes the clubhouse was bustling. BowTye arrived on his bicycle. Aieshia drove up with the kids. Pork Chop stopped by with Uncle Woo. It looked like three foursomes would tee off and beat the crowd off the first tee. The others would congregate and kill time.

  BowTye was busy tidying up the place. It was his nature. He straightened up the magazines, got all the same sized shirts orderly and picked up several bar rags. “Come on, I’ll show ya sumptin’,” he said to Pabby. One of his chores was to do the laundry. He headed downstairs with his arms full of soiled towels.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I doubt if they show ya how ta do this at the foster home, but I’ll show ya how ta do laundry.” The wash machine was a front-loader. BowTye opened the glass door and threw the towels in the machine. He grabbed the detergent and measured a cup. “All ya need is one cup of this.” After the water had filled, the towels flopped around in the soap and water. Pabby was fascinated. He stood quietly and watched the entire cycle through the window.

  BowTye continued to the bathroom. He picked up the newspapers that were left in the stalls and scattered on the floor. Next was the unpleasant job of fishing the cigarette butts out of the urinals. He restocked the paper towels and made sure the soap dispenser was functional. A new roll of toilet paper was supplied. He returned to the laundry room.

  Pabby hadn’t moved. He stood fixed on the clothes that were going around and around in the washing machine and was humming the song that BowTye had sung for him and Shae. His torso was stretched forward, his neck craned out. Pabby had placed both hands together and extended his stiff arms through his legs so that his hands were on the backside of his kneecaps. He appeared to be studying the wash cycle much like a mural in an art museum.

  Without looking away from the laundry Pabby said, “Do you think anyone will ever want me?”

  BowTye was puzzled by the question. “Someone will always want ya.”

  Pabby remained focused on the clothes twirling in the water. “Is it ever going to stop?”

  “The wash machine?”

  “No, not feeling wanted.”

  “The guys ’round here love ya.”

  The movement of the clothes seemed to have put Pabby in a trance. “I want a dad.”

  Meanwhile upstairs the guys had headed out to the first tee. Pork Chop stayed with Uncle Woo who was busy playing Uno with Shae. The teen had placed a neon orange band in her hair, applied ample eye shadow and liner as well as pressing nails onto her fingers. Carla seemed to always blend into the woodwork. She read a magazine off to the side.

  Aieshia grabbed a stool and visited with Julie at the bar. “I still don’t quite understand how it all works over at the foster home.”

  “Whatcha mean?”

  “What your role is and Carla’s and Ms. Porter.”

  “Hmmm. Lemme see.” Aieshia rubbed the top of her nose between her eyebrows. Julie got a kick out of the alternating colors on each nail. “Ms. Porta is da administrata. She supervises. She’s responsible fo’ organizin’ da day ta day activities an’ schedule.”

  “That makes sense. You have to have some sort of chain of command.”

  “Dey alls know dat she’s da boss.” Aieshia smiled from ear to ear with perfect oversized shiny, white teeth. “An’ den Carla comes ta work most every day ta teach. An’ a few uh da others do too.” She fiddled with a scorecard, folding it and doodling on it. “But dey all leave at da end of da day an’ go home.”

  “And you stay there, right?”

  “Yeah. I have a room dere. An’ my duties are a li’l mo’ dan da rest of dem. I guess ya would call me a nanny.” She thought for a minute. “But I don’t know if dat would be da right description.”

  “Somebody has to be around to give them some adult supervision.”

  “I guess dat would be me. An’ den dere’s da security guards.”
>
  “There has to be more than just you.”

  “Two of da guys on staff are dere during da day. An’ dey alternate at night.” She tilted her head and looked at the scorecard from a different angle. “Unless ya want ta count Farley.”

  “What’s the deal with him? Doesn’t he have a wife and family and a job?”

  “He’s da fix-it man ’round da home. He’s married an’ has two kids.”

  “And he’s an alderman.”

  “Uh-huh. His real job is da night supervisa at da sewage treatment plant. Da other stuff he does is on da side.”

  “Is he around there a lot?”

  “Oh yeah, ’specially when Ms. Porta is dere,” Aieshia said as she reached for a drink, “an’ he tries ta be a fatha figure fo’ some of da boys but dat jus’ doesn’t seem ta work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well he’s not deir fatha, ya know. Deys knows dat he ain’t da real deal so deys don’t fall fo’ him tryin’ ta be nice ta dem.”

  “That’s a hard role to replace.”

  “Dat’s why Pabby likes ta come ova here so much. He gets dat from da guys here. Dey really make him feel special.”

  “You’d think that Farley would concentrate on his own kids more than the ones at the home.”

  “He’s funny. I don’t tink dat dere’s any love lost ’tween him an’ his wife. Deys don’t do much together an’ don’t even like each other I don’t tink. Kinda like Ms. Porta an’ her husband.”

  “We live in a crazy world.”

  “I don’t understand why dey all don’t jus’ git divorced an’ live a diff’rent kind of life. I don’t tink it’s real good fo’ da kids ta see him an’ Ms. Porta flirtin’ ’round wit’ each other all of da time.”

  “Do they do it right in front of them?”

  “Well, ya know, his truck is ova dere all da time. When dey don’t see him fixin’ sumptin’ den dey know dat he’s ova in da bungalow where she lives.” Her lips engulfed the neck of a water bottle. “Dey ain’t stupid an’ start ta wonda what’s goin’ on.”

  The front door opened and B2 busted through the opening. He immediately ran behind the counter and sniffed at Julie’s shoes. Then he jumped up her leg. His tail was working overtime, so much so that the entire back side of his body moved from side to side.

  J Dub entered next followed by Ralph. He immediately went to the package that was in the corner behind the counter. “Anyway we were busy and Julie signs for the box, then you leave.” He reenacts the scene. “We don’t pay any attention to it and the next morning we checked it and there was nothing in it.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “The package was empty when you dropped it off.”

  “Are you saying that I took the contents?”

  “No. I’m just indicating that the package that we got was empty. Somewhere between the time it was shipped and got to us someone opened it and took the contents.”

  “I don’t think that something like that would happen with the US Postal Service.”

  “Are you kidding?” Julie butted in. “I read all the time where about a third of the packages don’t get delivered.”

  “Sure,” J Dub followed, “what’s our recourse if something like that happens?”

  “You can file a missing package ticket with my supervisor.”

  “The package isn’t missing.”

  “Then indicate that the contents were not in the container.”

  “Who checks on it?”

  “We’ll track it from our end and if you call the manufacturer that shipped it they can track it from their end.”

  “How long is that going to take?”

  “Probably ten to twelve weeks.”

  “That’s real efficient,” J Dub answered facetiously. “I ordered a club for a customer and he wants to use it to play golf.”

  Ralph shrugged. “That’s protocol.”

  J Dub let out a guffaw. “Before it gets to you where does it go?”

  “Our distribution center.”

  “Could it have been pried open there?”

  “I don’t think that anything like that could happen.”

  “Here we go again,” Julie chimed in.

  “What else can I do?”

  “Examine the package next time before signing for it. In my report I’ll say that the package was sealed. Once her signature,” Ralph nodded at Julie, “went on the signature line you accepted it as is.”

  “That’s a bunch of BS,” J Dub hollered.

  Ralph shrugged and headed for the door. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry! We’re out three hundred dollars!”

  “Here’s who you need to contact.” He reached into his satchel and produced a business card. Then he turned and exited.

  “What are you going to do?” Julie asked J Dub.

  “I’ll call the supervisor, file a report and I’m going to call the cops to file a theft report.”

  “Will insurance take care of it?’

  “I’m sick of insurance companies. I’m sick of lawyers and courts. I’m not fond of our law enforcement and the whole band of crooks that are allowed to operate out there.” J Dub turned to walk into the office. “They all disgust me.”

  CHAPTER 51

  Pamela Porter had a new love interest. It was Just4Lust. com. Every waking hour seemed to be devoted to chatting, answering e-mails or trolling for prospective sex partners. Her sightings were fewer, quicker and much more caustic. Running the facility seemed to be more of a distraction than it had been in the past. Whatever she had to do around the kids would get tackled in a hurry and then she would quickly return to her cottage and spend countless hours online.

  Her fingers worked non-stop on the keyboard as Farley sat on the couch and watched TV. When she saw something that interested her she would beckon him to her side. He would look over her shoulder and put in his two cents.

  “This one sounds interesting.” She read an e-mail to him. “They’re from Tulsa and have been in the lifestyle for four years. She says they love it.”

  “I don’t care what you do, no face pictures,” Farley said.

  “They won’t show anybody your picture.”

  “How do we know that is where they are from?”

  “They want sex. I doubt if they’d lie about where they live.”

  “No. I don’t want my face broadcast all over the Internet.” He got up to look at the profile that was on the monitor. “If my constituency knew I was involved with anything like this I would be asked to step down immediately.” He chuckled at the absurdity of the comment. “Or I would be forced out in twenty-four hours.”

  “There are so many guys that have sent us an e-mail. I explicitly said no single men. We’re interested in couples only.”

  “Then block them so they won’t keep bothering you.”

  Farley sort of liked the profile pictures that were flashing on the screen. The women were in various forms of undress and in very compromising positions. On many of the pictures only body parts were visible. Very few pictures carried head shots. “No matter what, just remember the fifty-mile rule.”

  “I’ve got that plugged in the search request. No one within that distance is to contact us and we won’t look for anyone closer than that.”

  “There are so many couples to pick from we can eliminate those close to us and still have enough to stay busy for years.”

  Pamela took a healthy sip of Chablis and laughed. “No one must get laid anymore.”

  “Either that or they’re bored with their partner.”

  “Here’s a neat couple that sent us an e-mail.” She made a few keystrokes and their profile page popped up. “It says that he is 46 and she is 44.”

  “I hope that she looks as good in person as her pictures are.”

  Pamela read out loud. “First of all, we are a couple very much in love and have been in a longtime committed relationship. We are looking for some fun, energetic couples like us that are professional b
ut down to earth and classy. We are a full swap couple that can get comfortable in any atmosphere. Our likes are hiking, biking, boating, dancing and clubbing. Both of us like live music and lifestyle events.”

  “Nothing like being up front and open.”

  She continued. “We are educated and discrete and are physically fit with high sex drives. H/w proportionate couples are desired.”

  “Discrete? Their faces are all over the screen.”

  “That’s an odd way to advertise for playmates, but every one of these profiles is like that. What is nice about these two is that they live in Chicago.”

  “How many have you looked at?”

  “We’ve gotten over two hundred messages.”

  “You put our profiles up less than a week ago.”

  Pamela took a drink and laughed. “That only is counting our couple profile.”

  “We’ve got more messages?”

  “I got over three hundred on my personal profile and you got six,” she laughed, “but most of the ones you did get liked your package.” She reached up over her shoulder and rubbed the back of his neck, her nails scratching the hair behind his right ear.

  “You posted naked pictures of me?”

  “Of course.”

  “I told you no face pictures.” Farley smiled but he wondered what kind of pictures she had of him. “I guess I’m good for something.”

  “And it was clear what the single women wanted.” Pamela leaned her head back and kissed Farley as he leaned forward. “Most of the mail that I got is from single guys.”

  “I thought you put a request for no single men.”

  “I did.” She hit the keyboard. “I’ll block them. Just about every single one of them says that he is the best male lover on the planet. Then there is an attachment showing how the heavens blessed his manhood.”

  “I don’t know about all of this.”

  “Why would I want to invite some single guy into my life?” She turned her head, gave him an affectionate look and kissed him again. “I’ve got plenty to handle with you.” The profiles acted like an aphrodisiac to her. She had been on the computer for hours. It was about time for her to rip his clothes off.

  “Then why are we doing all of this?”

  “To have some fun!” The wine released her inhibitions. “I know how you guys are. You all want different women. Now’s your chance.” She rubbed Farley’s thigh. “Besides I want to watch you with another woman.”